But even that feels too clinical and calculated. Perhaps even lethal.
I motion for Josephine, crawling with her to the back door. Then, I try to push her through. “Ride hard. Don’t look back.”
I’ll distract them, give her a chance to escape.
But she holds steady, amber and moss eyes simmering. “Not without you.”
The bond flares—too bright, too alive.
I slam a wall down between our minds—clumsy and incomplete—but enough to dull the panic roaring through us.
Her brow arches, defiant.
Her hand grips mine. “We go together.”
I let out a long, low sigh, watching a thin, pale light sweep across the pasture.
The moment it touches the cabin wall, the hum inside my bones spikes.
It’s trying to lock on.
“Ash…” she whispers. “Those things aren’t natural. And they’re not searching randomly. They’re mapping.”
My jaw tightens. “Scanning.”
They sync now behind the glass. The thin beams multiply until they form a grid.
My throat tightens. A weapon targeting system, perhaps?
The room goes dark.
Nothing.
Then I hear it. Tiny taps, like a centipede walking on glass.
Josephine’s eyes are dinner plates.
A flash of white light snaps across the window frame.
It shatters inward as if struck by a focused pulse, glass raining down. The hum becomes a roar.
Terror slices through me, reverberating. Fear of losing Josephine. Her fear of losing me… and the disorienting sensation that nothing makes sense anymore.
I try to control my breathing. Separate our thoughts. I’ve never felt so out of control.
“Go now!” I scream.
She springs forward, and I follow.
We burst into the open pasture. Lightning flashes, painting the night in violent silver.
Metal clicks behind us, like noisy dragonflies. Humming and clicking, then going silent.
Even eerier.
Because I can still feel them. Even when the hum dies.
We head for the paddock, and they come to life again. Clicking and whirring like mechanical cicadas, their pursuit furious.
