Laughter rippled behind me. Music. Voices. The world spun on like nothing was about to shatter. And then—it did.
A hand seized my arm—hard. Jace. Everything in him was raw. The sharp wave of alcohol hit me like a slap, souring the air between us. His eyes burned with fury—but beneath the rage, something was broken.
"What happened? Are you okay?" I asked, my heart twisting. I wasn't scared for me—I was afraid for him. Real fear. Real confusion.
"Why didn't you tell me?" He spat. His voice trembled—not just with anger, but with something deeper. Wounded. Every glance and every laugh we shared suddenly felt like a lie.
"Tell you what?" My lips pressed into a thin line. My stomach sank, hollow.
He dragged me down the hallway and pointed at a painting on the wall. It looked like a prophecy. A child's hand had painted it, yet it shouted truths louder than words. My chest split when I saw it. It felt like I had betrayed myself without even knowing.
"That you're… supernatural." His voice cracked. He wasn't only angry—he was shattered. He felt left behind in a world he never knew existed.
I froze. "There's an explanation," I whispered, but even I didn't believe the weakness in my voice.
I sensed Oliver nearby. Watching. And for the first time, he looked afraid. His fear was not for himself, but for me.
"And you let me be jealous of Oliver?" Jace's voice rose. Then he stepped back. His eyes screamed what his mouth didn't—betrayal, confusion, and loss.
I moved one step toward him. Just one. And he pushed me.
Not hard. But hard enough. Hard enough to unbalance me. Hard enough to make me feel like a stranger—in my own body, in whatever the gap was between us. For the first time, I was afraid of him. Not of the push—but of the distance. He touched me like I was dangerous. Like I wasn't his anymore.
Maybe it wasn't him who pushed. Maybe it was the fear inside him. Maybe he wasn't angry at me. Maybe he was terrified of who he was becoming.
He stared everywhere but at me. Dylan and Sierra were nearby, tense, already knowing. This was exactly what I had anticipated. My vision hadn't been wrong.
Then—it began.
Jace screamed. Pain tore from his throat like a flood unleashed. Fur erupted across his skin. He fell, convulsing, biting his tongue. Blood trickled from his mouth, iron stinging the air. I could barely watch. All I wanted was to touch the pain, take it from him, and ease it. Save him. But I didn't know how. Not now. Not alone.
"What's happening to me?" He gasped, his voice fading into the heavy silence that wrapped around us.
The vision seared me again—too real to run from. The kidnapping. It was supposed to happen now. But something didn't fit. Was I late? Or was this the moment the vision changed?
"Jace, I know you're hurting," I said, urgency sharpening my tone. "Dylan and Sierra will explain everything. But—do you know where your sister is?"
His eyes widened—something clicked. "I… I think she's home. With a babysitter." Then his gaze sharpened. "Why? Is there anything else you haven't shared with me?
He tried to stand, still fighting the war inside his body.
And me? All I could think of was Allison. All I could think about was running to her, saving her.
A chill slid down my spine. Too late.
Oliver touched my hand—gently, like a silent promise. I looked up, met his eyes, and without a word, I stood with him. I wasn't seeking comfort—just someone steady enough to hold me up.
"Don't panic," he whispered. But in his voice, there was something new. There was an air of fragility in his tone.
I pulled out my phone. I called. Again.
Silence. Not peaceful—piercing. The silence felt as if sirens were blaring in my head.
"Abigail isn't answering." My voice cracked. "I sent her to babysit. She always stayed with Allison. She was like a sister to Allison. Like a promise carved in stone. Not now. Please, not now."
I followed Oliver to the car. Slipped inside. Gave him the address. The road blurred by. The silence pressed harder than words.
This was the moment. The one that changed everything. The moment the vision wasn't prophecy anymore—it was reality.
And my heart already knew: this time, reality was faster than fate.
Please don't disappear, Allison. Don't vanish from my hands—not now.