Leave the archive. Now.
Faylan stared at the message, her grip tightening around her phone until her knuckles went pale.
No name.
No number she recognized.
Just that.
Her pulse answered immediately.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Louder now.
Not steady.
Insistent.
The archive room felt different.
It had already been quiet before—but this was something else. The kind of quiet that pressed in, that made every small sound feel too sharp. The faint hum of the lamp. The soft drag of her own breath. The whisper of paper as it shifted beneath her hand.
Faylan turned slowly, her gaze moving toward the narrow window again.
Nothing.
Just pale daylight and the suggestion of branches moving somewhere beyond the glass.
Still—
That feeling hadn’t gone away.
It had sharpened.
Like something had leaned closer.
Watching.
Waiting.
Faylan swallowed, her eyes flicking back down to the phone.
“Okay,” she murmured under her breath, more to ground herself than anything else. “Not ominous at all. Totally normal morning.”
Her gaze dropped to the table.
To the photograph.
Liora Vance.
Her fingers hovered for a second—then moved quickly.
She grabbed her phone, snapped a picture of the photo, then another of the article in the newspaper, her movements faster now, sharper. No hesitation.
If she left this here, she might not get another chance.
Her pulse kicked harder.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
Faylan shoved her phone into her pocket and reached for her jacket, shrugging it on carefully over her shoulder. The fabric brushed the bandage, and the sting grounded her just enough to keep her from spiraling completely.
Think.
Who sent that?
Cassius?
No.
If it were him, he wouldn’t text.
He’d just show up.
That certainty settled deep and immediate.
So not him.
Which left—
Faylan didn’t finish that thought.
She grabbed the folder, hesitated—
Then slid the photograph halfway out.
Paused.
“Don’t steal from the library,” she muttered to herself.
Another beat.
“…temporary borrowing doesn’t count.”
She slipped the photo free and tucked it into the inside pocket of her jacket.
Her heart jumped.
Not guilt.
Something else.
Like the room had noticed.
The lamp flickered again.
Faylan froze.
Just for a second.
Then she straightened.
“Yeah, no, we’re leaving.”
She turned, crossed the room quickly, and unlocked the door.
The hallway outside was… wrong.
Too empty.
Too still.
The distant sounds of the library—the soft movement, the low voices—were gone, like someone had closed a door on the rest of the building.
Faylan stepped out slowly, her gaze sweeping the space.
The circulation desk.
Empty.
No Mrs. Alvarez.
No cart.
No sign that anyone had been there at all..
Her stomach dropped.
“Okay,” she said quietly, “that’s new.”
The air felt heavier out here.
Not thick.
Just… watching.
Her pulse shifted again.
Tap.
Tap.
Tap.
Faster now.
Her body was reacting before her mind caught up, every instinct tightening, sharpening, pushing her forward even as something in her wanted to stop and figure it out.
Don’t stay.
That part was clear.
Faylan moved toward the front doors, her steps quick but controlled, resisting the urge to run. Running would mean panic. Panic would mean prey.
And she was already having a bad enough morning without adding obvious target to the list.
The front doors loomed ahead.
Light spilled through the glass, pale and hazy.
Normal.
It looked normal.
Faylan reached for the handle—
—and paused.
Her reflection stared back at her from the glass.
Moss green eyes.
Silver threaded faintly through them.
Too bright.
Too aware.
Behind her—
Something moved.
Faylan’s breath caught.
She turned sharply—
Nothing.
The hallway stretched behind her, empty and still, the archive door standing slightly ajar where she’d left it.
No footsteps.
No sound.
No one there.
Her pulse hammered.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
“Not doing this,” she whispered, more to herself than anything else.
Her hand tightened on the door handle.
And she pushed it open.
The moment she stepped outside, the world rushed back in.
Sound.
Movement.
Voices from across the street.
A car passing.
The low hum of a normal day snapping into place like nothing had happened at all.
Faylan stumbled down the steps slightly, catching herself on the railing as her lungs pulled in a sharp breath of cold air.
The shift was immediate.
Violent, almost.
Inside—silence.
Outside—life.
She turned back instinctively.
The library doors stood open behind her.
Normal.
People inside.
Movement.
Mrs. Alvarez back at the desk like she had never left.
Faylan stared.
“…nope,” she said under her breath.
That—
That was not normal.
Her phone buzzed again in her pocket.
Faylan flinched, pulling it out quickly.
Another message.
Same unknown number.
Her stomach twisted before she even read it.
She looked down.
You took something that isn’t yours.
Faylan’s fingers tightened around the phone.
Slowly—
very slowly—
she reached into her jacket pocket and touched the edge of the photograph hidden there.
Warm.
Real.
Her pulse kicked hard.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
Her gaze lifted.
The street stretched out in front of her, ordinary and unchanged, people moving through it like nothing was wrong.
Except—
Across the street—
The black car was still there.
And this time—
The driver’s door was open.
Faylan didn’t move.
Not right away.
Her body locked in that strange, suspended moment between instinct and decision, her fingers still curled around her phone, the message burning faintly against the screen like it had weight.
You took something that isn’t yours.
Her pulse answered hard.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
Across the street, the black car sat quiet and deliberate, like it had been waiting longer than it should have needed to. The open door angled toward the sidewalk, revealing nothing inside—just darkness, shadow, the suggestion of space where someone should have been.
No movement.
No figure stepping out.
No sound.
Faylan narrowed her eyes slightly.
“Yeah,” she murmured under her breath, shifting her weight carefully down the last step. “Not suspicious at all.”
She didn’t look at it again.
Not directly.
Instead, she turned her head just enough to take in the rest of the street, forcing her pace to stay even as she stepped off the library steps and onto the sidewalk. People moved past her—normal, unaware, carrying coffee cups and tote bags and the quiet rhythm of a morning that hadn’t been interrupted by anything supernatural.
It almost made her feel ridiculous.
Almost.
Her phone buzzed again.
Faylan didn’t stop walking this time as she glanced down.
Another message.
Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.
Her jaw tightened.
“Bold of you to assume I’m cooperating,” she muttered.
Her gaze flicked up again—brief, controlled—
The car door was still open.
But now—
There was someone there.
Leaning lightly against the frame.
Faylan’s steps slowed despite herself.
The figure was tall. Still. Dressed in dark clothes that seemed too sharp against the washed-out morning. One hand rested on the top edge of the door, fingers long, relaxed in a way that didn’t match the situation at all.
Watching her.
Even from across the street, she could feel it.
Not like before.
Not like Cassius.
This was colder.
More distant.
Less curious.
More… certain.
Faylan stopped.
Just for a second.
The world around her kept moving—someone laughed somewhere behind her, a car door slammed, a dog barked from down the block—but all of it felt slightly out of sync, like she had stepped half a second out of place.
Her pulse shifted.
Not steady now.
Pulling.
Tap…
Tap…
Tap…
The figure tilted its head slightly.
And raised one hand.
Not a wave.
Not quite.
More like a gesture.
A subtle beckoning.
Faylan’s breath caught.
Her body leaned forward.
Just a fraction.
Her mind snapped back hard.
“Nope.”
She took a step back instead, breaking whatever strange pull had brushed against her thoughts.
The figure didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Just watched.
Faylan turned sharply and started walking the other direction.
Faster now.
Not running.
But not casual either.
Her pulse picked up again, the rhythm uneven now, tangled with something else—something that felt like pressure behind her eyes, like a voice just out of reach trying to form.
Her phone buzzed again.
She didn’t check it.
Didn’t want to.
Didn’t need to.
She already knew what it would say.
Her steps quickened.
The street curved slightly ahead, leading toward a narrower side road lined with older buildings—quieter, less crowded.
Bad choice.
Her brain registered it instantly.
And yet—
She turned down it anyway.
Faylan slowed mid-step.
“Okay,” she said softly, frowning. “That was not my idea.”
Her pulse shifted again.
Tap…
Tap…
Tap…
Not louder.
Deeper.
Like something underneath it was responding.
The air felt different here.
Thicker.
Not physically—just… off.
Her thoughts didn’t feel as clean. Not as sharp. There was a faint drag to them now, like trying to move through something slightly resistant.
Faylan pressed her fingers briefly to her temple.
“…okay, don’t love that.”
A voice drifted faintly behind her.
“Fay.”
She stopped.
Her heart jumped.
Rowan.
That was Rowan.
She turned—
Nothing.
The street behind her stretched empty, fog curling faintly along the pavement.
No Rowan.
No footsteps.
No one there.
Faylan’s stomach twisted.
“That’s not funny,” she muttered.
The voice came again.
Closer this time.
“Faylan.”
Her name.
Soft.
Familiar.
Wrong.
Her body leaned again—just slightly—toward the sound.
Her mind caught it this time.
“No.”
She took a step back, shaking her head once like she could physically dislodge whatever was trying to settle into her thoughts.
Her pulse snapped sharper.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
The air shifted.
And suddenly—
He was there.
Not Rowan.
The figure from the car.
Closer now.
Much closer.
Standing at the edge of the narrow street like he had always been there.
Tall.
Still.
Eyes fixed on her with a calm, unsettling focus.
Up close, he looked… wrong in a quieter way than the creature from the alley. No feral edge. No visible hunger tearing through him.
Just control.
Clean. Precise. Intentional.
Worse.
“Faylan Hart,” he said, his voice smooth and even. “You’ve made this unnecessarily complicated.”
Her pulse slammed.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
Faylan straightened instinctively, every nerve in her body lighting up at once.
“Yeah, I’ve been told I have that effect,” she shot back, her voice steadier than she felt.
His gaze flicked briefly to her jacket.
To the pocket.
To the photograph.
Then back to her face.
“You took something that belongs to us.”
Faylan’s fingers curled slightly.
“Pretty sure it was in a public archive,” she said. “That’s kind of the opposite of private property.”
A faint smile touched his mouth.
It didn’t reach his eyes.
“It was never meant for you.”
Her pulse stuttered.
“Yeah, well,” she said, taking a slow step back, “a lot of things apparently weren’t meant for me lately.”
He moved.
Not fast.
Not sudden.
Just one step forward.
And the space between them felt smaller instantly.
“You don’t understand what you’ve stepped into,” he said.
Faylan let out a short breath. “You’re not wrong. Still not handing it over.”
Another step.
Closer.
Her body reacted before she could stop it.
Not fear.
Something sharper.
Her pulse surged.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
The air pressed in around her.
That strange pull returned, stronger now—pressing at the edges of her thoughts, trying to smooth them, slow them, guide them.
Give it back.
It would be easier.
Safer.
Just hand it over.
Faylan’s hand twitched toward her pocket—
—and stopped.
Her breath hitched.
Her brows drew together hard.
“…no.”
The word came out strained.
But real.
The pressure wavered.
Just slightly.
The man’s expression shifted—just a fraction, just enough to show something like interest.
“Unusual,” he murmured.
Faylan’s head cleared just enough to latch onto that.
“Yeah,” she said, her voice tighter now. “I’ve been getting that a lot.”
He studied her more closely now.
Not just watching.
Evaluating.
The kind of look that made her skin crawl.
“Come here,” he said softly.
Not loud.
Not forceful.
Just—
Certain.
Faylan’s body leaned forward.
Her foot shifted.
Her pulse spiked violently.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
Something inside her snapped.
Not cleanly.
Not fully.
But enough.
Her head jerked slightly as if breaking through water, her breath coming in sharp.
“No,” she said again, louder this time, taking a step back.
The man’s eyes darkened.
And then—
The pressure surged.
Harder.
Stronger.
Her thoughts blurred at the edges.
Her vision dipped slightly, the world tilting just enough to make her stumble.
“Stop fighting it,” he said, voice still calm, still controlled. “You’re only making this more difficult for yourself.”
Faylan’s hand shot out, catching the wall beside her as the ground shifted under her feet.
“…yeah,” she breathed, blinking hard. “Not really in the mood to make this easy for you.”
But her voice was weaker now.
Her body heavier.
Her mind slipping—
And somewhere, far too late—
she realized—
She wasn’t as unaffected as she thought.
Not immune.
Just—
Resisting.
And resistance—
Had limits.
Her vision blurred at the edges as the world tilted again, the pressure in her head tightening, pulling, trying to drag her forward—
One more step.
Just one.
And then—
Everything would be easier.
Faylan’s fingers dug into the brick beside her.
Her pulse roared.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
“Don’t,” she whispered to herself.
But her body was already starting to move.
One step.
Unwilling.
Uncertain.
Not entirely hers.
Faylan felt it happen and couldn’t quite stop it—her foot shifting forward, her balance tilting just enough to follow, her thoughts dragging like they were moving through something thick and resistant.
The man watched her with quiet satisfaction.
“Better,” he said softly.
The word slipped under her skin like it belonged there.
Her pulse fought back.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
Louder now.
Erratic.
Something inside her pushed hard against the pressure, like a door bracing against a storm.
Her vision blurred at the edges.
The street narrowed.
The space between them collapsed—
Another step.
Her hand twitched toward her jacket.
Toward the photograph.
Give it back.
This ends.
Easy.
Safe.
Faylan’s breath hitched.
Her fingers curled instead.
“No,” she rasped.
The man’s expression shifted.
Not anger.
Interest.
Sharp and calculating.
“Fascinating,” he murmured. “You shouldn’t be able to hold that.”
Faylan didn’t answer.
Couldn’t.
Her head dipped slightly, her focus splintering as the pressure in her mind tightened again—harder now, more insistent, like it was adjusting, correcting, finding a better angle to break through her resistance.
“Come here,” he repeated.
Closer now.
More force behind it.
Faylan’s body responded.
Another step forward.
Her pulse surged violently.
Tap—TAP—TAP—
Her hand shot out again, bracing against the wall as the world tilted sharply to the left. Her vision swam, the edges of everything dissolving into gray as something in her thoughts started to slip loose.
Not gone.
Not yet.
But slipping.
Her grip on herself weakening.
Her knees dipped slightly.
The man moved closer.
One step.
Two.
He was almost within reach now.
Faylan’s breath came shallow, uneven, her chest tightening as that strange, steady rhythm inside her fought harder—no longer just a pulse, but something reactive, something alive.
Tap—Tap—Tap—
The pressure faltered.
Just for a second.
The man’s eyes narrowed.
“…interesting,” he said again, softer this time.
Faylan dragged in a sharp breath, her head snapping up just enough to meet his gaze.
“Yeah,” she managed, voice rough. “I’ve heard that today.”
He reached for her.
And the moment his hand lifted—
Something changed.
Not in him.
Around them.
The air shifted.
Sharp.
Fast.
Wrong.
The pressure in her head shattered.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
Like a glass breaking.
Faylan staggered back, her breath ripping into her lungs as the weight in her mind vanished all at once, leaving behind a dizzy, hollow clarity.
“What—”
A blur moved at the edge of her vision.
Too fast.
Too sudden.
One second the man stood in front of her—
The next—
He was gone.
No.
Not gone.
Thrown.
Faylan’s head snapped to the side just in time to catch it—the man slamming hard into the brick wall across the narrow street with a force that cracked something behind him. The sound echoed sharp and violent, dust shaking loose from the mortar.
The man recovered fast.
Too fast.
He pushed off the wall immediately, eyes flashing—
And then he froze.
Because he wasn’t alone anymore.
Faylan followed his line of sight.
And her breath caught.
Rowan stood between them.
Close.
Too close.
His back to her, shoulders squared, his entire posture coiled in a way she had never—never—seen before.
Still Rowan.
But not.
Not soft.
Not easy.
Not the version of him that joked and hovered and made sure she ate and texted too much when she didn’t answer.
This version—
Was dangerous.
His voice, when he spoke, was low.
Cold.
“Walk away.”
The man’s gaze flicked between them.
Not afraid.
Assessing.
“You’re interfering,” he said evenly.
Rowan didn’t move.
Didn’t shift.
Didn’t even seem to breathe.
“I’m not asking again.”
Faylan stared at his back, something in her chest tightening as she tried to process the shift—the way the air felt around him now, the way the tension in the space had changed completely.
He wasn’t just standing there.
He was holding the line.
The man studied him for one long second.
Then another.
And then—
He smiled.
Faint.
Knowing.
“Of course,” he murmured. “There are two of them.”
Faylan’s pulse slammed.
Tap—TAP—TAP—
Rowan went very still.
Not reacting outwardly.
But something in his posture sharpened.
Dangerous.
Immediate.
“Leave,” Rowan said again.
This time—
It wasn’t a warning.
It was a threat.
The man’s gaze lingered on Faylan for one last second, something calculating flickering in his expression before it smoothed out again.
Then—
He stepped back.
One step.
Two.
And turned.
Just like that.
No rush.
No fear.
Just a quiet, deliberate retreat as if this had been nothing more than a conversation paused, not ended.
Within seconds, he was gone.
Vanished around the corner.
Like he had never been there at all.
Silence rushed back in.
Real silence this time.
Not the suffocating, unnatural kind.
Just… quiet.
Faylan stood there, breathing hard, her hand still pressed to the wall, her thoughts struggling to catch up to what had just happened.
Then—
“Fay.”
Rowan’s voice again.
Different now.
Back to something she recognized.
He turned toward her.
And the shift—
Was immediate.
The tension dropped from his shoulders, the sharp edge in his expression softening into something familiar, something worried, something him.
But not completely.
Not anymore.
Faylan saw it now.
Couldn’t unsee it.
“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer.
Too fast.
He stopped himself halfway, like he’d almost closed the distance without thinking.
Faylan stared at him.
Really looked at him.
At the way his chest barely moved.
At the way his eyes flicked quickly over her—shoulder, hands, face—taking in everything in a second.
At the way he had appeared.
Out of nowhere.
Her pulse was still racing.
But now—
It wasn’t just fear.
“…how did you find me?” she asked.
Rowan froze.
Just for a second.
Then smiled.
Soft.
Familiar.
A little too quick.
“I was looking,” he said.
Faylan didn’t move.
Didn’t speak.
Just watched him.
Because that answer—
Wasn’t enough.
And for the first time—
That bothered her.
A lot.