I stilled. “A soldier?”
Gravel crunched outside.
I was on my feet before I realised I’d moved, crossing to the window.
Three large trucks were pulling into the driveway. Branded with the unmistakable sun-shaped crest of the Order of Light.
The bread slipped from my hand and hit the floor.
I staggered back a step.
Andre looked up at me. “Are you okay?” he asked, concern genuine.
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the window.
“No,” I whispered.
Under my skin, my power stirred—drawn sharp by fear. It clawed for purchase, restless and hungry.
It wanted to consume.
A loud knock thundered against the front door.
Andre didn’t look away from me this time. He studied my face, something clicking into place, then stood.
I backed toward the hallway—toward the room I’d woken up in.
His eyes darkened. “Are you in trouble?”
“Yes.” My voice cracked. “I’m sorry. I can go.”
He lifted a hand, stopping me.
“No. Go back to the room. There’s a crawl space.”
“Andre—”
I met his gaze.
In his aura, I saw warm orange light—steady, compassionate. Empathic. Like Lyra. But threaded through it was something sharper, clearer.
He was a heart reader.
He smiled, small but certain. “It’s okay. I’ll protect you.”
The door banged again.
I ran.
In the bedroom, I yanked open the wardrobe. A false panel gave way beneath my fingers. I slipped inside and pulled it shut behind me.
The crawl space was narrow, running along the interior wall of the house. I edged forward carefully, heart hammering, every breath measured.
The walls were thin.
Thin enough that I could hear everything.
“Andre,” A male voice said.
