I do not reject it. I narrow it. Focus it. Hold. The ground pulses at the edge of the cut. Close enough to strike.
The air hum passes once more, tighter and aligned. They are here. No more avoidance.
I steady my breath.
Set my weight. Calculate the first move. Contact.
9
LEENA
He moves before I understand why.
One second we’re crossing the dune, the next his hand is on me—harder than before, faster, no warning—and I’m pulled sideways, off my line and into his.
“Hey—”
The word barely leaves my mouth before he shifts again, turning me with him, repositioning me behind his shoulder so completely that I lose sight of everything ahead.
My heart leaps into my throat. Panic floods my brain, and I struggle without thought, needing to be free. He’s too strong. He can do anything. I can’t stop him.
“No! This isn’t—” He cuts my protest off with a hand over my mouth, muffling any sound I might make.
I struggle, staring at him, eyes wide, terror battering my thoughts. I’ve tried so hard to remain calm, logical, and to think things through, but this… this is final.
“Stay.”
The word cuts through everything. I stop. Not because I agree or the fear stops, but because something in the way he says it makes my body lock while my brain catches up. He moves, carrying me forward. Then sharply left.
Faster, without having to wait for me to keep up. This is far from the controlled pace with careful adjustments. This is something urgent.
He has me locked onto his side, rushing across the sand with an ease that belies his size and weight. His grip bites into me hard enough to hurt. He moves his hand off my mouth. I keep enough presence of mind to not scream.
“Stop,” I snap, breath hitching. “I can?—”
He doesn’t let go, but his focus isn’t on me. It’s everywhere else—scanning, tracking, listening to something I still can’t hear.
He shifts direction and we drop off the side of the dune into a narrow cut between rock formations. I hadn’t noticed it from above. The sand is tighter, packed against stone, the space closing fast as he drives us deeper into it.
“Wait—what are you?—”
He doesn’t answer. Of course he doesn’t. He keeps moving until the space narrows enough that the light cuts off. Shadows swallow us in a tight crevasse between two jagged rock faces. Then, abruptly, he stops. He sets me onto my own feet, but his attention is not on me.
“What is?—”
His hand comes up, not over my mouth this time. Just there. A warning. I freeze.
My pulse is loud in my ears, my breath coming faster than I want. The sudden shift from movement to complete stillness is harder than it should be. Adrenaline chases at the edges of everything.
“What is it?” I whisper.
No answer. He’s completely still. Not just holding position. Locked. Every line of his body set, attention fixed on something beyond the narrow opening of the crevasse. I follow his gaze, but all I see is sand. The wind dragging thin lines across the surface. Nothing else.
“This is getting old,” I mutter under my breath, quieter this time. “You keep doing that—seeing things that aren’t?—”
The sound cuts through the air, low and thin.
I go still because of that. It’s faint. Barely there. But having heard it, I can’t ignore it. That sound… it’s mechanical. My stomach drops. No. That’s not?—
