Page 18 of Wraith

Lucian didn’t answer, leaning forward to pick up the glass. He turned it in his hand, inspecting it like it might reveal some kind of answer.

The bond pulsed faintly, a tug of energy flowing into me. I didn’t notice it at first, too lost in my anger, but as I watched Lucian rub his temples, the realization hit.

He was tired. No, more than that—he looked drained.

And I’d caused it.

I felt a smirk curve on my face. The chair nearest the window scraped against the floor, sliding just an inch but enough to make the sound echo. Lucian’s girlfriend jumped, her eyes widening as she clutched her phone tighter.

“What was that?”

Lucian shook his head, standing as he scanned the room. “I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his hair, the tension in his shoulders visible even as he tried to play it off. “Probably just a draft or something.”

The girlfriend didn’t look convinced. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself, her eyes darting toward the shadows in the corner.

I didn’t feel guilty. Not even a little.

If anything, I felt stronger.

I moved toward the lamp, letting my anger guide me, and brushed my fingers against the bulb. It flickered violently, casting erratic shadows across the room. Lucian winced, pressing a hand to his temple as the bond throbbed faintly.

“Dammit,” he muttered, grabbing the switch and turning it off entirely.

The girlfriend stood abruptly, wrapping the blanket around herself like armor. “I’m going to bed,” she said quickly, her voice tight.

Lucian didn’t stop her. He didn’t even look at her as she disappeared into the hallway, his focus fixed on the lamp, the glass, the chair.

I hovered near him, watching the tension in his jaw, the frustration that creased his brow. He didn’t understand what was happening. None of them did.

And that was fine.

“Feel that?” I whispered, my voice low and venomous. “That’s just the beginning.”

I turned my attention to the blinds, letting them sway faintly as though caught by an unseen breeze. The sound was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it made Lucian’s shoulders stiffen.

He stood abruptly, pacing toward the window and yanking the blinds still. His breath came faster now, uneven, his hand twitching at his side.

The bond pulsed again, another wave of energy flowing into me as his fatigue deepened. He stumbled slightly, catching himself on the edge of the couch.

“What the hell is wrong with me?” he muttered, his voice low and strained.

I smiled, a sharp, bitter thing that didn’t feel like me.

“Everything,” I said softly. “And you’re just finally feeling it.”

The exhaustion hit me like a hammer, the surge of power fading as quickly as it came. I slumped against the wall, my formflickering faintly as I fought to stay upright. The bond quieted, retreating back into its steady hum, but the satisfaction lingered.

I was learning. Growing.

The apartment blurred around me as the pull of the bond faded, leaving me to drift back to the theater. I collapsed onto the stage, the familiar chill of the wood grounding me as I tried to catch phantom breaths that never came.

Lucian wasn’t the only one who could feel me now. They all would.

Fucking finally.

Eleven

Kael’s dormwas in shambles. Not his usual calculated chaos, but the real kind—unhinged and frantic. Drawers hung open, clothes were scattered across the floor, and a chair was overturned near the desk. It was beautiful in a way, watching him unravel.

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