Page 150 of Echoes of the Banshee

The heat in my chest ignites. Electric. Unstoppable. I don’t try to control it. I want it to burn. The spell shatters with a violent crack. Magic roars through me. I slam him backward with a burst of brutal power. Ethan flies across the aisle, crashing into the far shelf. Books rain down as he crumples to the floor.

My hands tremble and I shove them into my pockets. I remind myself that he’s not in control. My skin is glowing again, lit from within like embers under glass.

“Don’t ever touch me again.”

I turn and stomp away, every step deliberate, every breath an effort to stay calm. I storm out of the library, anger still crackling beneath my skin. I spot Benson walking down the path.

“Hey, Thea!” he calls, cheerful at first — but his tone shifts when he sees my face. “You okay?”

“I’m going to kill that witch,” I snarl. Smoke is probably coming out of my ears.

“Zair?” Benson asks, eyebrows knitting.

“No. Ethan.” My voice shakes. “He tried to force himself on me. He kissed me.”

The fury cracks through me, and without meaning to, the wind surges, violent and reckless, twirling leaves into the air around us. I squeeze my eyes shut and fight to calm it. Breathe in. Breathe out. Slowly, the air stills.

When I open my eyes again, Benson is just standing there. Still. Watching me like he’s barely holding it together himself. But we both know there’s nothing he can do. There’s history in his silence. The kind that taught goblins what happens when they hit back. He takes a settling breath.

“You want me to walk you home?” he asks quietly. “We can throw on a movie.”

I nod, suddenly too tired to pretend I’m fine.

“Yeah. I’d appreciate that.”

We walk through the quiet night. The tension doesn’t leave me. I get that feeling again — that tight pull in my chest, like someone’s watching. My senses are on edge, hyper-aware of every creak of the lampposts, every gust of wind stirring the leaves. Am I being paranoid?

I glance over my shoulder every few steps, but there’s no one there. Just the two of us walking through the empty campus.

Then, as we near the final turn, the sensation slams into me again. That heavy, crawling awareness. My skin prickles. The air feels wrong.

“You thinking comedy or romance?” Benson asks, casual like nothing’s off.

“What?” I snap, sharper than I mean to.

“For the movie,” he says, blinking. “I didn’t mean to… I thought…”

I see it then, the flash of hurt in his eyes. He thinks I wasn’t serious. Before I can respond, the hairs on the back of my neck rise. I stop cold, heart pounding. I grab his arm.

“I think we’re being followed.”

He looks around as the screech of tires slices through the night. My stomach drops as strong gloved hands grab me from behind.

I barely have time to register it before a sharp, metallic click rings in the air as a cold, unforgiving cuff snaps around my left wrist. A wave of pain shoots through me as the cuff tightens, my magic instantly snuffed out, paralyzing my senses.

Not again.

I feel rope bite into my skin and then a rough fabric is pulled over my head, suffocating me with darkness. Adrenaline stirs, coiling low in my gut as I’m shoved forward. A metallic door groans open, and I’m thrown inside. My face smacks against the cold, hard floor; my bound hands useless to break the fall. Pain lances through my ribs, and my wrists throb from the restraints, but I can’t focus on that now.

The van rocks as Benson lands beside me. The door slams shut with a deafening thud, and the vehicle lurches forward. My breaths are shallow, burning with every inhale. Panic claws at me but I can’t give in. Not now. Not ever again.

“Thea?” Benson rasps.

“Yeah,” I barely manage. “I’m here.”

The van hums beneath us. We stop. Then start again. Slowing, turning. It feels like they’re obeying traffic laws. Time twists. The cuffs burn against my skin like live wires. Every bump and turn feels amplified, as if my body has become nothing but bruises and nerves. I lose track of everything but the motion.

The road beneath us turns rough; potholes, gravel. Then a hard stop and cold night air slaps my skin. They’re dragging me out, stumbling and helpless.