The lamp beside Tiffany flickered as she turned the next page.
She sat curled on a thick brown couch, knees pulled under her oversized sweater, a leather-bound book resting in her lap. The large clock on the wall ticked audibly.
Tiffany's grandpa was half-asleep in his recliner nearby, his breathing gentle and even.
She'd promised to read to him tonight.
But her eyes hadn't moved across the page in a few seconds now.
Her chest tightened.
She shifted, uncomfortably.
A strange feeling brushed past her and she grabbed her neck. She blinked and looked up.
No sound.
No wind.
But the pull was real.
Bree.
She didn't know how she knew. But she knew.
Something wasn't right.
She reached for her phone on the table. The screen lit up—blank.
It automatically unlocked.
Her thumb pitter-pattered on the screen and soon hovered over Bree's contact.
She hesitated.
A voice in her head—Ashley's maybe—told her not to interfere.
Told her to wait. That whatever was happening, another girl with the magic hum would handle it.
She slowly pulled her hand back.
Then gave a slow, silent nod to herself.
Ashley would be enough. Of course, she seemed to always be enough.
Tiffany exhaled and looked back down at the book.
"The WW3," it read.
She turned the page and tried to focus on the story again.
But something in the air remained off. Thin.
Like the kind of quiet that comes right before the thunder.
"Tiffany?" Her grandpa suddenly whispered.
She looked up.
His eyes were still closed—but his voice came through, raspy and wise, the kind of voice that didn't ask questions, just said things that stuck to your bones.
"Storm's brewing. Not the kind with rain."
Tiffany froze.
She turned toward him slowly. "Grandpa…?"
He didn't open his eyes.
Didn't speak again.
Just let out a slow breath and settled back deeper into his recliner.
Tiffany stared.
For a moment, she just… listened.
"You weren't reading any longer."
"Oh...."
There was no wind. No thunder. Just the quiet buzz of a machine from somewhere in the neighborhood and the ticking clock.
And that strange, tightening feeling in her chest again.
She picked her phone back up. Just held it this time. Staring at Bree's contact.
But still—she didn't call.
Not yet.
Ashley would know what to do.
Right?
★★★
★★★
The meeting had ended with no answers. Bree had hurried out, not caring if Alejandro was saying anything or not.
She was messed up.
Rolando stormed out first, muttering under his breath.
Maverick and Erwina left next, eyes quietly exchanging messages that they weren't ready to say aloud.
Alejandro disappeared—of course—probably to go punch his own walls.
Ashley hurried out with Bree.
The drive home had been quiet. Ashley had let Bree get ready for bed and they were alone now.
Bree still hadn't said much. Her fingers fidgeted with her silky shirt, her jaw tight.
Ashley watched her for a moment. Then reached out and touched her shoulder.
"Go to bed." she said gently. "I'll make tea."
Bree nodded. Her throat felt raw.
The walk to the room was silent.
Inside, Bree sat on the bed. Staring down. Not crying—but far from okay.
Ashley busied herself with the kettle.
"Want honey or sugar?" She yelled from the kitchen.
"Anyone."
Ashley gave a small smile.
She stood at the door and waited.
Finally, the kettle hummed and Ashley patiently made a cup for herself and the girl in distress.
Soon, she was in the room and they were clinking and sipping.
Ashley was seated at the foot of Bree's bed, slightly backing her.
"You and Alejandro. Did something happen before the.... crazy meeting?"
Bree flinched—barely—but Ashley caught it.
"Well.... I ran into him in the kitchen."
Ashley froze for a beat.
Not in shock but in dread of the full realization.
Then softly, "Did he hurt you?"
Bree shook her head.
Ashley narrowed her eyes.
"Did he touch you?"
Pause.
A long one.
Then Bree whispered, "...Not like that."
Ashley's heart thudded. She turned fully now.
Not like that.
Not a no.
Not a yes.
But enough to tell her something shifted. Something happened.
Bree finally looked up and smiled softly.
"I don't know what's wrong with me. What's this whole stupid thing?"
Ashley walked over to the bedside table and set the mug down.
Then sat beside her. Closer.
"We're gonna figure it out. Okay? But I need you to tell me when things happen. Always. Promise me?"
Bree gave a quiet nod.
Ashley placed a kind and protective hand over hers.
But in her mind?
The magic was whispering something darker.
"Tiffany Elmore has to be tested. Real fast." It said.