Miles felt the shift in energy the instant Atkinson focused on them a cold, intense scrutiny that felt like a physical weight. It was the same overwhelming power signature he'd sensed yesterday, now directed squarely at their backs.
"Walk fast, Ethan," Miles whispered urgently, not slowing his pace but pushing the speed just enough to appear naturally hurried. They kept a steady, rapid pace until they were clear of the massive front doors. The instant they were outside and shielded by the thick stone wall of the veranda, they abruptly diverted their path, ducking into a cluster of large, ornamental shrubs that lined the drive.
Atkinson rushed out the doors just moments later, scanning the manicured lawns and the long, straight drive. He saw no one. The magical presence he had felt was suddenly, inexplicably gone. He ran his hand over his chin, his composure momentarily fractured by confusion.
