ChrisIt starts in my teeth.A low hum, like metal drawn across stone, like a war drum with no skin, only bone.It settles into my molars and echoes through my jaw. I stop mid-step and clamp a hand over my mouth, blinking through the fog.“What’s wrong?” Elliott asks immediately.I shake my head. “Nothing. Thought I bit down wrong.”He stares at me. “You’re not eating.”“Right.” I try to smile. “Maybe I just wanted some attention.”Elliott doesn’t laugh. He steps closer, brushing his arm against mine as we walk.The forest’s quiet again. No birds, no wind, just the pad of our boots on moss and the way our breathing syncs up without trying.Scarlett and Erik are up ahead, quiet in that intense, tangled way they get when things go sideways. Ilsa’s somewhere behind us, probably tracking ghosts again. I think she secretly loves all the shit happening around us.The hum hasn’t stopped.It shifts, dipping into my ribs, coiling beneath the skin at the base of my spine like a note too low for
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