Ethan didn't look at me again, not even for a second. He kept himself between me and everyone else as he moved, guiding me down the narrow hallway. His steps were steady yet clipped. His hand stayed locked around my arm, firm but not hurting, and the moment we reached the last corner that cut us away from the chaos behind us, I thought he'd stop.

  Except he didn't. He kept walking.

  We passed the double doors that led to the back lot, but he didn't push through. Instead, he veered sharply, pulling me into a narrow, dim corridor wedged behind the science wing. The overhead flickering lights illuminated a row of exposed pipes, a stack of cardboard boxes, and a metal utility sink that reeked of chemicals and rust.

  The light flickered again, revealing the third wall behind the boxes. Dread settled in the pit of my stomach.

  It was a dead end.

  No windows. No doors.

  The only sound was the low electrical buzz of the fluorescent lights and the rush of water moving through the pipes.

  I was trapped, my head dizzy with adrenaline, fear amped so high it propelled me into recklessness.

  I planted my feet, refusing to be dragged any farther. "Ethan, can you stop for one secon—"

  I didn't even get to finish before he stopped so suddenly I nearly slammed into his back.

  For a heartbeat he didn't turn around. His shoulders rose and fell with uneven breaths. His hands curled into fists, tendons pressing against his skin like they might tear through.

  Then he pivoted toward me.

  His pupils were still blown wide, swallowing nearly all the amber. Only the thinnest rim of gold clung to the edges, like the sun during an eclipse. His jaw was clenched so tight a muscle ticked in sharp, irregular spasms.

  His eyes weren't on my face. They were fixed on my hand, on the scraped skin and the thin line of drying blood.

  Instinctively, I moved to cover it.

  I knew I'd made a mistake the moment my other hand touched my sleeve.

  A visible shudder ran through him, sharp and involuntary, like I'd yanked on some invisible rope wrapped around his torso.

  "Don't do that," he said, voice low and ragged. It wasn't a threat, but a plea and a warning in one. "Leave it."

  I slowly lowered my hand, exposing the cut again.

  His breath hitched. He took half a step forward, the smallest of movements, yet the entire corridor seemed to compress around us.

  "Ethan," I whispered, my pulse hammering, "what is happening to you?"

  He shut his eyes. That frightened me more than anything else, because it looked like surrender. Like holding them open required effort he no longer had.

  His voice scraped out, raw. "Stop it. Fear. Just… stop."

  I shivered. It wasn't comfort. It was a warning.

  "I… I can't help it. You're scaring me!" My voice came out higher than I expected.

  The muscle in his jaw trembled. For a second he looked like he was going to be sick. "I know. Just… ride it out."

  I wasn't sure if he was talking to me or himself.

  He inhaled again, but the sound came out wrong, too deep, too ragged. His shoulders shuddered. If I hadn't been staring, I might have missed it.

  "Why did those guys behave like that?" I demanded. "What is wrong with them?" I hesitated, then added more softly, "What is wrong with you?"

  A flash of emotion crossed his face, hurt, frustration, and something almost like shame.

  "I'm trying," he said quietly. "I'm trying…" The words cracked, fragile in a way I had never heard from him. His gaze kept flicking, always orbiting back to the dried blood on my hand like a planet around a black hole.

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  I shifted my weight, just a fraction, planning to slip to the side, to create space.

  He was on me before I moved a full inch.

  His hands closed around my forearms, heat burning through the sleeves of my shirt, his grip firm enough to anchor me but not enough to bruise. His breath hit my cheek, uneven and too warm.

  "Kelsey," he said, barely audible, "stay still."

  "Why?"

  "Because you're making it worse."

  "For whom?"

  His jaw flexed. "For both of us."

  He pulled his hands away with visible effort, yet the rest of him leaned forward a fraction, like it was compensating for the loss.

  I backed up until my spine pressed against the cold wall.

  He took half a step after me before freezing again, fingers twitching in what looked like genuine pain. He was so close I could feel heat rolling off him like a furnace. His eyes dipped to my throat, lingering there for a moment before he forced them upward to meet my gaze.

  "Is this because of me?" I asked, fear leaking into every word. "Am I somehow hurting you?"

  A tremor rolled down his arms. He shook his head once, sharply.

  "No. Not hurting," he managed.

  "Then what? Ethan, what is happening?" I was on the brink of despair and didn't care if it showed.

  "You don't understand," he said, his voice cracking. "It's too much. I can't…"

  His gaze slid once again to my throat. He braced one hand beside my head on the wall, palm flat.

  The air between us suddenly lacked oxygen.

  A low rumble dragged up from somewhere under his ribs, then stopped, cut off halfway, like he was disgusted by it. He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth clicked.

  My body went numb.

  Nothing about this was normal. This place wasn't normal. He wasn't normal.

  The fact that I stood there, sweating and shaking, and yet still felt that pull toward him was most definitely not normal.

  A terrible, impossible word hovered at the edge of my mind, one I refused to let form, because once I thought it, I couldn't unthink it.

  I stayed perfectly still. I knew I shouldn't look at him, and yet... I couldn't look away.

  Minutes passed, stretching into eternity.

  His breathing slowly evened out. His shoulders eased, just a fraction. When he opened his eyes, the amber ring was thicker. His pupils, still huge, were no longer devouring everything.

  He leaned back from me slowly, inch by inch.

  "I'm sorry," he said quietly. For the first time, it sounded like actual Ethan, not whatever it was he'd been holding back. He diverted his gaze, looking genuinely stricken for a moment. "I know I scare you. I don't mean to. I didn't choose this." He took in a labored breath. "If it's any consolation, this is so much worse for me."

  "What are you talking about?" I exclaimed, then, when his eyes snapped back to me, I lowered my voice. "Ethan…" I whispered. "What the hell just happened?"

  He swallowed hard and shook his head. "It's my fault. I underestimated them. Let it build up." His jaw tightened. When his gaze lifted to mine, something in it pinned me in place. "It won't happen again."

  "That's not an answer," I said. "Why did it happen at all?"

  A sad, pained smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

  "Because of you."

  He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. It didn't land as a surprise, but it left me desperate to understand why. Why me?

  "Me," I repeated. "What about me?"

  He blinked, slow and deliberate. "Everything."

  The breath that carried that word settled around me like a weighted blanket.

  I stared at him. He stared back. He wasn't being poetic. He was stating a fact. And still, he refused to explain it.

  I narrowed my eyes. "You're still being cryptic."

  "I know. I'm sorry." He looked away, jaw clenching. "We all thought we were prepared. That we could handle it." His voice dropped so low it was barely audible. Then he let out a small, self depreciating chuckle. "We had no idea. I… had no idea. I certainly do now." His eyes returned to mine. "No wonder your kind were called heralds of chaos."

  My eyes went wide. "My what?!"

  But before I could fall into another rabbit hole of half truths and metaphors, he continued.

  "Kelsey. You can't tell anyone about today. Our families mustn't find out."

  Everything inside me stilled. "Why?"

  "Because if they did," he said, voice low and steady, "all hell might break loose."

  I blinked. "What do you mean by that?"

  He let out a sharp breath. "I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating. But I'm not." His eyes didn't waver. "Kelsey, I'm serious."

  I swallowed. "Yet you somehow think no one else will tell them? That they won't find out some other way?"

  He shook his head. "They won't."

  "You sound very sure."

  "I am."

  His certainty made the corridor feel smaller.

  "And another thing." His gaze flicked down, then up, his pupils pulsing like they were syncing with his heartbeat. "Nell is no longer your primary guardian. I am."

  The world stilled.

  "My what?" I whispered.

  "You'll still follow her," he said. "But what happened today cannot happen again."

  My heart thudded once, slow and heavy.

  Nell had been assigned to watch me by our fathers. She had been the buffer, the restraint, the wall. And now Ethan was replacing her, because she was no longer enough.

  He took one breath, then another, steadying himself.

  "Now," he said quietly. "You can go."

  I waited a moment, just to be sure I'd heard him right.

  "And Kelsey," he added, looking away, "slowly. Walk slowly."

  And even though every instinct in me screamed to run, I obeyed him, because something deep in my gut kept whispering a truth I didn't want to hear.

  I had barely turned the corner when I almost collided with Nell. She stood near the wall, upright and taut, arms crossed over her chest, one finger tapping against her forearm. Her eyes drifted past me toward the corridor I'd left Ethan in. Her lips pressed tight, but she said nothing except, "Let's go," gesturing for me to follow.

  The hallways were clear and silent, free of any sign of the frenzy that had taken place half an hour earlier.

  I walked beside her without a word, keeping my mouth shut.

  I wanted nothing to do with Ethan's decision to take over Nell's duty. I'd never asked for Nell's guardianship in the first place. And now it was obvious it hadn't mattered anyway, it had only delayed the inevitable.

  Because whatever was happening in this town, whatever lived in these people, whatever had been triggered today, it wasn't finished.

  Not even close.