Chapter Six- Amelia

Chapter Six — Amelia

The air in the living room felt heavier than it had when I’d first stepped inside.

He was pacing now, back and forth in front of the couch, the floor creaking under his boots. She stood near the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, eyes locked on me like she could pin me to the wall without moving a muscle.

I hated when they did this — circled me like wolves deciding when to pounce.

“I told you to keep a low profile,” he said, voice sharp enough to cut. “You think you can just let loose in the middle of the market and no one’s gonna notice?”

“I didn’t—”

“Don’t lie to me!” he snapped, the beer from earlier gone, replaced with that cold, focused anger that always made my stomach knot. “You think I don’t know what you are? What you’re worth?”

Worth.

That word made my skin crawl.

The woman stepped forward, her voice low and measured. “If she’s finally unlocking her powers, we can use this. No more waiting around for scraps from the others. We’d have leverage.”

Leverage. Worth. Tools.

Never person. Never Amelia.

I took a slow step back until my shoulder brushed the wall. My pulse was a drumbeat in my ears, my palms itching with that same heat from before — the magic wanting out.

“You’re not using me for anything,” I said, my voice shaking but not breaking.

She tilted her head, a thin smile curving her mouth. “That’s adorable.”

Before I could answer, the man stopped pacing. His head snapped toward the front door, nostrils flaring like he’d caught a scent. For a moment, his eyes sharpened with something I’d never seen in them before — uncertainty.

“What is it?” she asked, her tone shifting.

“Someone’s here,” he said.

I froze.

And then, faint but growing stronger, I felt it — that pull. The invisible threads in my chest tightening, drawing toward the street. My breath caught. They’d followed me.

Her eyes narrowed. “How many?”

“Three,” he said, voice low, dangerous. “And they’re not human.”

My heart leapt and sank all at once. I didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified.

He moved toward the door, his whole body tense, and in that moment, instinct roared in my blood — I knew, without knowing how, that if he opened that door, there would be violence.

“You should leave,” I blurted out, surprising even myself.

He turned, incredulous. “Leave? My house?”

“They’re not going to stop,” I said. My voice was stronger now, the truth burning in it. “If you open that door, they’ll—”

The sound hit before I could finish — a deep, rumbling growl from outside, low enough to vibrate the glass in the windows.

The woman’s smile vanished. “They’ve come for her.”

The man reached for the shotgun leaning against the wall, and something in me snapped. Power surged hot through my veins, sparking at my fingertips, the air around me warping like heat over asphalt.

“Put it down,” I said.

He sneered. “Or what? You’ll burn me alive?”

I didn’t answer — I didn’t have to. The lights in the room flickered, and a hairline crack split across the coffee table with a sharp snap.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. Then the front door rattled like something massive had slammed into it.

Not something.

Someone.