The kitchen dimmed around me, candlelight fading to shadows. Threads of light began to weave through the air. But stronger this time. Clearer.
I could see Alex's thread, that brilliant blue that pulsed with desperate urgency. It stretched across impossible distances, disappearing into a darkness so complete it seemed to swallow light itself. But it was there. He was alive.
I knew he was alive.
And connected to his thread by thin strands of silver was another. Steady, controlled, radiating the kind of calm strength that made the tightness in my chest loosen just slightly. This thread didn't pulse or flicker like the others. It moved with deliberate precision.
It felt like someone who could hold broken pieces together until they remembered how to be whole.
Elias.
The name whispered through my consciousness like a promise. Like the answer to a question I'd been too afraid to ask.
The vision lasted only seconds, but when it faded, I was gripping the edge of the table hard enough to make my knuckles white. My cousins were still talking, still planning strategies that danced around the edges of the real problem without ever touching it.
They didn't believe me. They wouldn't listen. And Alex was running out of time.
"I need some air," I said, standing so abruptly my chair scraped against the tile floor.
"Talin—" Aunt Judy started.
"I'm fine. Just... I need a minute."
I was already moving toward the back door, grabbing my jacket from the hook by the pantry. The night air was a bit of a shock as it hit my face, cool and clean after the suffocating weight of good intentions and gentle dismissal, and I took the first real breath I'd taken since I'd arrived.
I stood on the back porch for a long time, listening to the muffled voices of my family through the kitchen window. They loved me. I knew that. But love didn't always mean understanding, and understanding didn't always mean belief.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. It was a text from Alice.
Are you okay? You seemed upset.
I stared at the screen for a moment, then typed back.
I'm fine. Just tired.
It wasn't entirely a lie. I was tired. Bone-deep, soul-tired from carrying around these visions no one believed and knowing things I couldn't prove. Tired of being treated like the delicate one, the one who needed protection instead of respect. Tired of being the broken one, the girl who'd lost pieces of herself and never learned how to function as less than whole.
But more than that, I was tired of being afraid. Afraid my magic would hurt me again. Afraid that if anyone saw the real me—scarred and incomplete and desperate for connection—they'd find me as wanting as I found myself.
The silver thread in my vision was the only thing that felt like possibility. Like hope. Like maybe, for once, I wouldn't have to face this alone. And if that meant defying my family's expectations and risking their disapproval, well, then maybe it was time to stop making myself small enough to fit into their comfort zone.
And it led to a vampire who probably wanted nothing to do with me or my chaotic powers.
But that was too bad. Because if my family wouldn't listen to what I was seeing, maybe it was time to find someone who would. I'd already arranged with Killian to meet Elias at The Purple Fang the following night.
The vampire who appeared in my visions as that silver thread of perfect control. The one whose presence, even in my dreams, made the confusion settle into something I could almost understand.
I had no idea what I was going to say to him. Had no idea if he'd believe me or think I was just chasing shadows.
But I had to try.
I slipped my phone back into my pocket and headed for my car, not bothering to go back inside and endure another round of gentle condescension. They'd figure out I was gone eventually.
Chapter 3
Elias
I'd been at the club for less than an hour when she walked in.
