The bus wove through the packed lanes, brakes stuttering, engines idling too long between stops.
Three cars back, the sedan hadn’t moved. His aura still pressed on her senses. It was focused and impossible to confuse with the usual mental scatter. Audrey had always seen auras as fields of color and pressure surrounding minds, each one shaped by emotion or will. Most people gave off messy trains of thought and feelings, a constant background hum she could tune out. But every so often, someone’s presence sharpened into something purposeful, cutting through the noise like a signal through static.
What she felt now was power organized and directed, impossible to ignore. If he was after her, every second she stayed visible narrowed her options. The sense of being hunted settled in her chest, making her all too aware that danger was already closing in around her.
Audrey swayed, nausea twisting in her gut. The city’s minds layered until it seemed everyone faced her. Her mother’s stern, familiar voice rose in her head.
First, build a wall. Brick by brick. Around your mind.
She squeezed her eyes shut, picturing bricks locking in place. In prison, drugs had built a wall, dulling the noise and others’ minds. Pills had blurred everything into manageable gray, leaving nothing but silence and slow hours. She remembered the hiss of fluorescent lights above her bunk, counting stains on the cinderblock ceiling when the world got too loud in her own head.
But here, outside the penitentiary, her defenses collapsed at a touch. Thoughts poured through the cracks like floodwater. She pressed her fingers to her nose, focusing on breathing.
In. Out. In. Out.
The bus jolted forward a few feet, then stopped again. Feeling trapped, Audrey pushed her senses outward and felt for him. Behind them, the sedan was there, still following. When she focused on the driver, his head was muted—unnaturally so. He didn’t honk or shift lanes. Instead, he just waited.
Up ahead, brake lights flared in a red chain. Audrey leaned just enough to see past the aisle. Two city cruisers blocked the intersection. No sirens, no urgency. The officers stood outside their cars, peering into windows and talking to drivers. It looked routine, unless you looked closer. Beneath the calm, their minds flurried with anxiety.
She hit her fist against her seat. This mess was because of her. Everyone wanted to see the monster. Other passengers lifted their phones and turned their screens at careful angles. Audrey hunched deeper into her sister’s jacket.
If the police boarded the bus, if a reporter saw her, if someone shouted her name, it would become another spectacle. Another story about her instability.
You always did draw attention, the killer murmured, as if summoned by her worried train of thought.I’ve been counting on that.
Get out of my head.
Let’s see what you can do while we’re waiting.
Across the aisle, the woman who had pulled the shank earlier lifted her head. This time, her eyes were entirely devoid of any rage. In fact, they were nearly vacant.
Audrey felt the intent before the woman moved. She lunged, but not for Audrey’s money; this time, she went for the throat.
With a single focused thought, Audrey plunged into the woman’s mind. She dove harder, deeper—almost violently—forcing her presence in with a decisive mental thrust. Psychic pressure pulsed between them, more intense than ever before.
Stop.
The woman froze mid-lunge, her body stiff, hand inches from Audrey’s throat. Audrey’s eyes darted from the hand to the frozen woman. Breathing hard, she struggled to undo it as panic spiked.
Move. Please move.
After several seconds, the woman blinked, swayed, and dropped her arm. A shaky breath escaped Audrey.
“She did something,” a former inmate whispered. Throwing a look over her shoulder, Audrey saw another passenger recording her with a phone. Audrey grabbed the device and crushed it beneath her boot.
“You want this to be your face next time?” she snarled. The woman flinched and leaned back, arms crossed and eyes down.
Good.
Shifting in her seat, she decided to look out the window another time. But before she could, a distinct sensation rose through the chaos.
The aura was cold and singular, sharp as glass. That strange lilting language slithered beneath the noise. It wasn’t words she understood, but something older, structured, forceful.
Damn it. He was still here.
Then she felt it—a psychic connection snapping into place. It wasn’t a stray emotion, and not a surface thought. It resonateddeep and physical, as if an invisible line had been drawn between their minds.
Their auras caught, locked together in a way she had never experienced before. Invisible threads twisted between them, binding them further. The only thing she’d ever felt like it had been with Cary. But her sister’s telepathic powers had been softer and safer. This was heavier and more intrusive. Audrey even felt his pulse pounding within her.
