Chapter 21

Alanza’s POV

“Your brother’s looking for you. I think he believes me that I don’t know anything, but I’m not sure. I’m deleting everything off this phone just in case. I have a bad feeling about this.”

I read the text from Lucia’s burner account and swallowed hard. My knuckles were white as I gripped the phone, the cheap plastic case digging into my palm.

“Be careful,” I typed back, rushing the words. “It might be better if we don’t talk for a few weeks. I just heard two shifters talking earlier today; it looks like they’re finally searching.”

I didn’t wait for a reply, but one came instantly.

“I love you, Alanza. I’m worried. Have I been watching too many crime documentaries? Anyway, I’ll text you when it’s safer.”

I shoved the phone deep into my pocket, the message a knot in my gut. My heart hammered a frantic, uneven rhythm against my ribs. They were searching. The shifters' hushed words from the lecture hall replayed in my head like a siren.

Escape. I had to get out of the building.

I pushed through the thick crowd of students spilling out of class. My movements were jerky, desperate. I wove between bodies, trying to put distance between myself and the lecture hall, between myself and the unseen threat. Every face I passed blurred into a potential danger. I could feel eyes on me, a creeping sensation that made the hairs on my arms rise.

When I reached the bus stop, I stumbled onto the bench and slumped over, sucking in sharp, ragged breaths. I scanned the area. Left, right, back again. Was anyone watching me? Did that guy with the backpack look too interested? The minutes stretched, thick and slow, amplifying the tension coiled tight inside my chest.

The bus finally arrived. I jumped to my feet and boarded quickly, clutching my shoulder bag so hard my fingers ached. I sank into a back seat, pressing myself against the window. The bus lurched forward. I watched the sidewalk, my paranoia riding shotgun.

Every passenger was a blank slate, a potential monster. I studied their faces, looking for the cold, calculating look of a shifter on the hunt. But they were just people: headphones in, staring at phones, oblivious. The ordinary world felt hostile because of my secret.

When the bus reached my stop, I practically threw myself off. A wave of relief washed over me. There she was. Sombra, sitting patiently, her bright, intelligent blue eyes fixed on me. She was a beacon.

“Sombra,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

She trotted over, her tail giving a hopeful little thump against the pavement. The weight on my shoulders eased, just for a second. We turned onto the sidewalk, hurrying toward my apartment. My steps quickened, eager for the lock on the door.

The moment I was inside, I slammed the door shut and slid down against it. The lock clicked, a small, satisfying sound. I buried my face in my hands, and the dam broke. Sobs racked my body, harsh and ugly. Fear, anger, and that deep, crushing isolation crashed over me.

Sombra whined softly. She nudged her warm head against my side. I clung to her, my fingers tangling in her soft fur, drawing comfort from her solid presence. The tears flowed. I cried for the life I’d had to abandon. I cried for the family who now saw me as a target. I cried for the constant, dark cloud of discovery hanging over me.

I jolted awake. My cheek was pressed against my knees, and the phantom sensation of a nightmare clung to the edges of my mind. The apartment was dark, lit only by a sliver of moonlight from the window.

A quiet, worried whine. I blinked, my vision adjusting. Sombra was curled at my feet, her blue eyes watching me with concern. A rush of warmth hit me. I reached out and stroked her silky fur. She was my anchor. I wasn’t completely alone.

The tension in my muscles began to ease. Then my stomach rumbled, loud and demanding. I hadn’t eaten much since breakfast. I groaned and pushed myself up, my limbs stiff and complaining.

“Dinner time, girl,” I murmured, offering Sombra a tired smile. I walked into the kitchen.

The familiar, mechanical actions of cooking were soothing. I sliced vegetables and listened to the oil sizzle in the pan. The aromas filled the air. My mind drifted back to the two shifters’ conversation, the one that had sent me spiraling.

The tight knot of fear began to loosen. It was replaced by something harder: resolve. I couldn't let the threat paralyze me. I wouldn’t go back to that life. I was free now, and I would fight to keep it that way.

A small noise broke my focus. I turned. Sombra was standing in the doorway. Clenched between her jaws was the unmistakable, shimmering gleam of the purple crystal. She was obsessed with that thing. I’d hidden it multiple times over the past few months.

“Where did you find this, you little troublemaker?” I chuckled, crossing the room.

I knelt and gently pried the crystal from her mouth. She didn't fight me. I held the object up to the weak moonlight, examining it.

The moment my fingers closed around the smooth, cool surface, a jolt of energy shot up my arm. My nerves felt instantly alight, a tingling, electric sensation. I gasped, nearly dropping the crystal, but my gaze was locked on the mesmerizing, internal light.

Then I heard it. A voice. It was soft, melodic, like a contented purr right inside my head.

It’s time.

The words echoed through my very core, sending a sharp shiver down my spine. I whipped my head around, searching the room, my body tense. The apartment was empty. Only Sombra was there, her head tilted, looking at me as if she could sense the shift in the air.

“Who’s there?” I called out, my voice barely a whisper.

Silence. The energy I’d felt a moment ago was gone, the crystal in my hand now just a cold, dull rock.

“Sombra, did you hear that?” I demanded, turning to face her fully.

She only tilted her head again, then walked over to her empty food bowl, looking back at me with wide, expectant eyes.

“Fine. Dinner first,” I sighed, but my hand was still shaking around the crystal. I placed it on the counter, then looked back at my dog. “But I’m not crazy. Someone said something.”

Sombra barked once, a short, clear sound.

“We are not having a conversation about my sanity right now,” I said, and grabbed the bag of kibble. “We’re making sure we eat before they find us.”