It''s almost like a presence saying hello.


    Thinking of that little string, I tug back. Twice.


    An answering jerk. One. Two. Three


    The words I just spoke drift into my head: It''s like the book is alive.


    Is it crazy to talk into this void in my head, in the general direction I hope the book is in?


    Sure. But at least no one can see or hear me doing it.


    Hello? I call out, trying to use the same mental channel I use to speak with Selene. Are you there?


    Another tug on that string.


    I really, really need you to come to where I am. It''s safer here. Or something. How do you explain to a book that the world has gone to shit and you want to keep it from being used to create further catastrophe?


    Please.


    Being polite never hurts.


    This time, that string-y feeling yanks, and it feels like my heart is constricted, interfering in its ability to beat.


    I can''t breathe. Pain explodes in my chest, radiating outward like a supernova. My lungs burn, desperate for air that won''t come. The world around me blurs, sounds fading into a high-pitched buzz that fills my ears.


    One second passes. An eternity compressed into a heartbeat.


    Two seconds. The edges of my vision darken, reality slipping away like sand through an hourglass.


    Then, as suddenly as it began, the pain recedes. The world snaps back into focus, colors sharpening and sounds returning. I gasp, drawing in a ragged breath that feels like sandpaper in my throat.


    "Ava? Ava! Are you okay?"


    Vanessa''s voice cuts through the lingering fog in my mind. Her hand grips my shoulder, shaking me gently but insistently. I blink, trying to orient myself. We''re still in the truck. Marcus is at the wheel, his knuckles white as he grips it tightly, eyes darting between the road and the rearview mirror.


    "I..." My voice comes out as a croak. Swallowing hard, I try again. "I''m fine."


    But am I? What the hell just happened? It felt like my heart was being squeezed in a vise, like something was trying to pull it right out of my chest. And that string, that connection to the book—it''s still there, only it''s stronger and pulsing.


    Marcus talks with his eyes glued to the road. "I felt a pack presence once," he admits. "But it was brief. Fleeting. Gone before I could really grasp it."


    "It''s just a matter of getting closer," Vanessa says, her tone reassuring. But I can hear the undercurrent of worry beneath her words. "We''ll make contact soon. I''m sure of it."


    I nod, but anxiety churns in my gut. Too many strange things are happening around us.


    The moon and our washed out headlights are the only things illuminating the world as we drive. My stomach growls, a sharp reminder that we haven''t eaten in hours. The granola bars Acarus gave us are long gone, nothing but wrappers and crumbs left behind.


    "We need to stop soon," Vanessa says, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. "I need a bathroom break."


    Marcus glances at her, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. "Can you hold it? We''re getting close."


    Vanessa''s eyes narrow. "I told you an hour ago I needed to stop. I can''t hold it any longer."


    Heat flushes my cheeks. "I, uh... I need to go too," I admit meekly.


    Marcus sighs. "We''ll make one last stop, but we need to be quick. It''s not safe to linger out here."


    The reminder of the danger surrounding us sends a shiver down my spine. The apocalypse has come and here we are, about to stop because nature calls.


    Marcus pulls over, just off the road. There''s nothing around except a few straggly bushes. More like bush-wannabes.


    "Alright," Marcus says, his voice low and tense. "Let''s make this quick. Vanessa, you take Ava. I''ll keep watch. Two minutes, tops."


    Vanessa nods, already opening her door. I follow suit, the cool night air hitting me as I step out of the truck. My legs feel stiff and unsteady after sitting for so long.


    "Come on," Vanessa says, grabbing my hand. "Behind the bushes for privacy."


    It isn''t like Marcus will look if we go right by the truck, but I get it.


    When I''m done, Vanessa and I switch places. Aside from a lot of chirping from what I can only assume are crickets, the low rumble of the truck''s engine keeps me calm, knowing Marcus is nearby.


    It''s weird to be in the dark, stars dotting the sky in the middle of nowhere, just peeing behind a bush.


    It feels like there are predators watching our every move.


    "Okay," Vanessa says, emerging from the darkness. "Let''s get back to the truck."


    The thrumming in my veins intensifies, and I scratch at my arms again.