Her aura stretched for him, met a wall—a shield like before. Telepathic contact began with intention, but focus, aura, and distance made it easy for Audrey. Her family’s shields kept herout, but most people never noticed her at all. She’d never met anyone trained like her—except the killer.
The blue-eyed man had a crafted, disciplined shield. Each layer exerted a tiny push, a barrier. Unless someone’s guard slipped, deeper contact was unreachable for most telepaths.
But she wasn’t most telepaths.
She slipped in easily and found his memories of her killing Erik; he must’ve been replaying them, since they were clear. In his mind, she was cold and ruthless. While she sat on the pavement, reliving it, she felt nothing. Erik got what he deserved. She was alive.
Good.
“I’m here to help,” he said, interrupting her mind-reading. He was certain.
Audrey stayed put. Help always had a price. If her mother and the killer wanted something, why not this stranger?
She eyed him carefully.
If anyone understood what she was—what she could really do—there would be people keen to cut her open. See how she worked.
He might be one of them. And he’d seen everything.
He stepped over Erik’s body, hands up, palms out, and lowered himself next to her. She read no shock or disgust on his face.
Her breath faltered.
“You lasted longer than I expected against him,” he said. “We can’t stay here for long.”
“Why?”
“Because men like Erik attract attention, and attention attracts organizations that track people like us.”
“People like us? Telepaths?”
“Yes.”
He paused.
“Besides,” he added, “he would’ve killed you. When you walked in with that bag, I suspected tonight might end badly.”
Her eyes snapped to him. “You suspected I’d kill him?”
“I suspected he’d push you far enough to force the truth out of you.”
“You’ve been following me,” she said. “How long?”
“Long enough.”
Not reassuring, she thought.
He put out a hand and helped her up. The movement was controlled with no wasted time. A cold feeling slid along her back. “You’re like me,” she said.
“Yes.” No hesitation.
“And the man who burned my home? Is he like us?”
Disdain shone in his eyes. “We’re built on similar architecture,” he said. “That doesn’t make us aligned.”
An errant curl fell into her eyes. She swept it back, annoyed. “Aligned how?”
He glanced toward the alley entrance before answering. “He believes breaking people makes them evolve. He and the Separatists don’t care who survives the process. His group experiments with control and transformation, using people like weapons. For them, survival of the strongest is the key, and weaker people’s lives are just fuel for the mission.”
