The town comes into view, the road twisting like a maze. I grip the wheel tighter, chasing a single goal—to reach the street where Allison is, with the one who took her. My heart pounds too hard, like it's warning me of something I haven't yet seen.
What if I'm too late? What if they're already gone? What if I get there… and find out the vision is a lie?
There's no time to hesitate. Every second could cost their lives.
I drive on. The world outside is quiet, with only the wind sliding through the open window. Still, an urgent feeling creeps up my spine. Once, I led—I controlled. Now I'm just driving, my heart gripping the wheel tighter than my hands. I'm inside my body, but I'm barely present.
I don't know if the voice I keep hearing in my head—Allison's voice, crying and calling for me—is a memory or a vision begging to come true.
My foot freezes. My heart halts for a second. I slam on the brake. Tires shriek, the sharp scent of burnt rubber floods the air, and the seatbelt cuts against my chest. My body jerks forward, breath stolen.
And in the blur between shadows, I swear I see a small dress… a flicker of movement. Maybe nothing. Maybe everything.
Then I see them. Oliver. Dylan.
What are they doing here? How did they know? Am I losing control of the situation, too?
"What's going on?" I ask, trying to sound calm and pulling myself back from the edge. But the words catch in my throat. What could I even say? Am I really heading straight into danger all by myself?
"Where are you rushing off to?"
Oliver steps closer and opens the door. He says nothing. But his look is enough—it tells me he's not letting me go alone.
He slips into the seat beside me like he belongs there. Like he always has. His presence fills the car like a hug I never asked for—or a silence sharper than words.
He doesn't ask questions. And when I try to speak, nothing comes. Only cracks.
Dylan leans in through my window, hands resting on the frame. His eyes are sharp, unreadable. His voice isn't angry—but it's final, like a verdict.
"I know where you're going," he says. Cold. Certain. "I picked it up. I read minds—and I can show all of us what happened."
He doesn't wait for my reply. "We're coming with you. And you're not saying no."
It's not a suggestion. It's a command.
I don't trust myself alone. And Dylan isn't giving me a choice. Maybe… maybe I don't want one.
"Okay," I whisper. The word doesn't even sound like mine. I don't know if I said it because I'd rather not be alone—or because I've lost the strength to fight.
And even before their answer reached me, something inside had already fallen. What if we all have? What if we're not approaching the edge—but living in it?
And this time… no one is pulling us back.