The rain had thinned to a mist by the time Amara and her mother pulled into the gas station. The fluorescent lights hummed faintly, casting the cracked pavement in a pale, artificial glow. A lone attendant sat slumped behind the counter, half-asleep, the faint static of a radio buzzing beside him.
Her mother parked at the farthest pump, hands trembling as she slid the gear into park. "Stay in the car," she said firmly, unclipping her seatbelt. Her eyes were red rimmed, exhaustion etched deep into her face. "I'll fill up. Don't move."
Amara nodded, though her chest tightened. The air inside the car felt too thin, too heavy all at once. Her mother stepped out, pulling her coat tighter against the damp air, and began working the pump with shaking hands.
Amara exhaled slowly, trying to steady her heartbeat. But as soon as the sound of the pump clicked into rhythm, she felt it a shift. A pulse beneath her skin. The invisible tether pulled taut, dragging her chest forward as if the night itself had reached in and hooked its claws into her.
Her head snapped toward the tree line at the edge of the station. Shadows pooled thick between the trunks, too dark, too still.
And then she saw him.
Micah.
He stood just beyond the halo of light, half-hidden in darkness, his figure tall and motionless. The mist clung to him, beading on his dark coat, making him appear carved out of the night itself. His eyes caught hers pale, unwavering, impossibly steady.
Amara's breath hitched. She wanted to scream, to call for her mother, but her voice lodged in her throat. Her hand fumbled for the lock, but the car door clicked open before she even touched it.
He hadn't moved. He was still standing by the trees. Yet the door had unlocked.
The tether yanked harder.
Amara's legs carried her out of the car before her mind caught up. She stumbled onto the wet pavement, her pulse hammering. The world around her muted the pump's clicking, the buzz of the lights, even her mother's distant movements. All she could hear was her own breathing, quick and shallow, and the steady rhythm of footsteps.
Micah was walking toward her now.
Not hurried. Not aggressive. Just deliberate, as though he knew she would never run.
Amara's feet backed away on instinct, but the tether betrayed her, pulling her closer even as she shook her head.
"No…" Her voice cracked. "Stay away."
Micah's lips curved faintly, a smile that wasn't cruel, but terrifying in its calmness. "Why would I stay away, Amara?" His voice was low, intimate, as though he were speaking directly into her chest. "You are mine."
She shook harder, clutching her arms around herself. "I don't belong to you."
"You feel it." His steps slowed as he neared, his gray eyes holding hers in an unbreakable snare. "The blood that binds us. The call that won't be silenced. You've felt it since you opened the box."
Amara's heart lurched. "The letters…"
His smile deepened, but his gaze darkened too, an edge of hunger there. "She thought she could hide you from me. But blood finds blood."
Her throat closed. "You mean my grandmother—"
"Micah!"
Her mother's scream shattered the night.
Amara whipped her head around. Her mother stood by the pump, horror carved into her features. "Amara, get back in the car!"
Micah's expression flickered, a brief glint of irritation, before smoothing into calm again. He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper only she could hear.
"You can't run. Even she knows it."
Her mother was running now, her feet splashing across puddles, her keys clattering from her hand.
Micah straightened slowly, his gaze sliding from Amara to her mother. His smile lingered, but his body began to blur, like smoke unraveling in the mist.
"No!" Amara cried, reaching out before she realized what she was doing. The tether snapped taut, burning through her chest, leaving her shaking as his figure dissolved into shadow.
By the time her mother reached her, clutching her shoulders, Micah was gone.
Amara collapsed against her, gasping, trembling so violently she could barely stand. Her mother held her tight, whispering frantic words but Amara barely heard them.
The echo of his voice still filled her ears, curling deep into her bones.
You are mine.
And deep down, despite the fear, despite the denial, a part of her feared he was right.