*Halia's POV
The air outside was warm, the golden sun dipping low on the horizon as Maggie and I stepped out of the mall. My arms ached under the weight of shopping bags, but it wasn't the load that had me off balance. It was everything else.
The dream still clung to me like smoke. The man. His hands. My blood.
It didn't make sense, and worse, I couldn't forget. His touch had felt too real. Too vivid. And then, seeing him earlier—or someone who looked like him—watching me in the crowd, only to vanish? My stomach hadn't settled since.
I wanted to believe that it wasn't real. I really did.
We reached the sidewalk and set the bags down.
"Let's get a taxi," she said, glancing at her phone. "Too much stuff to lug home."
I nodded, silently relieved. My legs felt like they couldn't carry me much farther.
The cab that pulled up was an older model, faded paint, windows tinted darker than legal. Maggie slid in first. I followed.
The driver didn't say a word.
I exchanged a glance with Maggie. She gave a slight shrug, already pulling out her phone to check something. I tried to shake the unease creeping up my spine. Maybe I was just on edge because of the dream. Maybe I was seeing things.
But then the driver took a wrong turn.
Maggie looked up. "Hey, isn't this the wrong way? We live east."
"Excuse me," I called. "You missed the turn."
No response.
He kept driving.
I leaned forward. "Sir, we said Maple Avenue. This isn't—"
*Click.*
The doors locked.
Maggie and I both froze.
"What the hell?" she whispered, glancing at me. She tried her phone. "No signal? Are you kidding me?"
The cab kept moving, deeper into unfamiliar streets. The buildings grew sparser. Industrial. Empty.
I felt like I couldn't breathe.
"We need to get out," I whispered. "When he stops, we run."
The car turned sharply and stopped behind an old warehouse. Before either of us could move, the back door flew open.
Two men stood outside, faces hidden beneath hoods.
"What the—" Maggie started, but they reached in fast. One of them grabbed me. I screamed, flailing, trying to kick. Maggie clawed at his arm, yelling, "Let her go! What are you doing?! That's my best friend!"
But they didn't stop. One of them shoved her back into the seat.
"Run, Maggie!" I tried to shout, but a hand clamped over my mouth.
They dragged me from the car, and another vehicle pulled up behind the taxi—sleek, black, and silent.
I struggled, twisting, kicking, but he was too strong. My heart pounded in my chest like it was going to break through my ribs.
"Why are you doing this?!" Maggie yelled from behind. "HALIA!"
The last thing I saw before the blindfold went on was her face—horrified, helpless.
Then darkness.
They shoved me into the backseat of the black car. The interior smelled like leather and ash.
A sharp sting pricked my arm. A needle.
My breath hitched. The world blurred.
But just before everything slipped away, I heard a voice.
Deep. Calm. Commanding.
"You're not supposed to be here yet. But the blood calls."
And then nothing.
Nothing but the void.