The question of who killed her family repeated in Audrey’s head all night. Alone by the window, she wrapped herself in a wool blanket and shut her eyes, blocking its meaning.
You, me, your family…we’re not like the humans here.
Audrey didn’t know what it meant, but inside, she sensed the truth before her mind caught up.
When the sun appeared, every nerve screamed for that small baggie of crystals. Her teeth ached. Her skin felt raw. Need blazed in her belly, taking over every thought. She craved relief.
There was only one way to get it—and more.
She needed to talk to Alex about getting the money now.
She woke him.
The conversation was brutal. Humiliating. Audrey’s face burned as she spat out the words, struggling to confess how much she owed Erik. It felt like flaying a layer of skin. Unable to look her friend in the eye, she twisted her hands in the blanket. After she revealed everything, they fought about the money. At one point, she almost left out of spite. Beneath all the safety talkwas a simpler truth: she wanted a hit. She wanted the noise to stop.
Alex’s fury came in cold waves. No shouting—just a clipped tone, one argument from shattering. In the end, he agreed. If they were to run, every thread Erik entwined around her—including debt—had to be severed.
He gave her the safe code and told her to take enough to clear Erik and disappear. So, she took the money. Ten grand in cash and a little more for Erik’s silence. She ended up back at the club just before dawn, a heavy duffel thrown over her shoulder like a body.
At this hour,Sarai’sstreet lay bare and still. Audrey paused under the awning, adjusted the duffel, and held the knife in her pocket. She prayed not to need it. From here, she could see the club’s front windows vibrating slightly with bass. Inside, she heard laughter along with a woman shouting over music somewhere down the block.
Get in. Pay Erik. Get out.
She charged throughSarai’sdoors, trying to blend in. It was difficult, though, with no makeup, Cary’s leather jacket, black leggings, and one of Alex’s sweatshirts. She was pale as a ghost, and even Mags and Sam—security —hesitated, struggling to match this version of her to the one they knew.
But they recognized her, and she kept walking.
Inside, the main room pulsed with life. Saturday night merged into Sunday morning. Sweat, perfume, and stale sex wafted in the air.
Erik paced by the bar like a panther. His fury blazed. She’d ignored his calls all night—her arrival now would be gasoline on embers.
She squared her shoulders, held the duffel in her hand so it wouldn’t drag, and headed for the back. He’d follow her.
Halfway there, the sensation hit. A crawling at the base of her skull. The music didn’t stop, and something in her mind went quiet—the way the world does before a storm breaks. Someone was looking for her, using their aura.
Her heart throbbed, drowning out the bass. Audrey’s head turned before she could stop it.
There he was again.
Across the room, under the spill of colored lights, stood the man whose voice had intimately entered her mind. The man from the backyard, the prison gates, and the bus.
The killer.
His mind was walled off, but his face was clear now. No shadows.
How does he keep finding me?
Despite her cravings, Audrey’s mind stayed alert. If he was here for her, coming inside was a mistake. If for Erik, the money was a liability. If for both, Audrey held the duffel closer.
No. She needed to focus. Letting her panic distract her would be dangerous. She couldn’t get trapped in something she didn’t understand.
The bag mattered. The debt mattered. Whatever this man wanted, she couldn’t let Erik and the killer collide and trap her in between. Now wasn’t the time for panicking. She forced one slow breath into her lungs. Then another. If he wanted to talk, he could do it on her terms. But even as she told herself to control the situation, she could hear her own doubt. Nothing about this was really under her control, was it?
Fear iced over her confidence. Audrey was unaccustomed to fear. She lived in others’ minds—she sensed deceit, and she knew how to push people to their breaking point.
But this man felt like nothing she’d ever touched before.
He slid through the crowd with predatory grace. A smirk spread across his face. Tattoos ran up his neck—black flamescrawling toward his jaw. Another mark burned red over his hand as he raked back his hair.
