Chapter Seventy-Five: Carol's POV

Chapter Seventy-Five: Carol's POV
The water bottle slipped from my fingers, hitting the floor with a thud.
I tried to move, tried to look away, tried to do anything, but my body wouldn't respond.
It was like someone had reached into my skull and flipped a switch, shutting down every system that made me me.
I could still see, still hear, but I had no control. No agency.
My legs started moving.
Not because I told them to. They just moved, carrying me toward the door with smooth, even steps.
I heard the clerk call out something about the water bottle I'd dropped, but my mouth didn't respond. My hand pushed open the door.
The cold air hit my face.
Walk. Turn left. Keep walking.
I walked three blocks. Crossed two intersections. Waited at a bus stop.
A bus came. I got on. The driver said something.
My hand must have swiped a card because he waved me through. I sat in a seat near the back.
This was wrong. But I couldn't even move my fingers or scream. I was trapped inside my own skull, watching my body move through the world like a puppet on strings.
The bus rolled through downtown Seattle.
I watched buildings slide past through the window, completely unable to process where we were going or why.
Time felt strange, elastic. Had it been ten minutes? Thirty? An hour?
Then, all at once, it snapped.
Like a cord had been cut, and suddenly I was gasping, stumbling off the bus at an unfamiliar stop.
My heart was pounding so hard I could feel it in my throat, and for several terrifying seconds I couldn't catch my breath.
I grabbed onto a street sign to steady myself, my legs shaking so badly I thought I might collapse.
Where was I?
I looked around frantically, trying to orient myself.
The buildings here were older, more industrial. Lots of warehouses and chain-link fencing.
This was south of the university, down in the industrial district near the waterfront. Near where Edmund and Theodore had traded weapons before.
And I had absolutely no memory of how I'd gotten here. No—not quite.
My hands were shaking. I forced myself to take a slow breath, then another, checking my body like I'd been trained to do after a fight.
Arms—fine.
Legs—unsteady but functional.
I patted my pockets, my bag. Phone, wallet, keys, all still there.
I pulled up my jacket, my shirt, checking for injuries. Just the bandage Maurice had wrapped a few days ago, a bit dirty now, but still in place.
No signs that anyone had touched me beyond the compulsion that had walked me onto that bus.
My heartbeat was starting to slow, becoming loud and clear again in my ears.
I realized with a chill that during those blank minutes, I could barely remember feeling it at all.
A sound cut through my racing thoughts. Low, suppressed crying mixed with ragged breathing—the kind you could tell someone was desperately trying to hold back fear.
I followed the sound around the corner of the nearest warehouse. It was an old brick building, covered in graffiti, weathered by years. A chain-link fence surrounded the loading dock, and on the far side, pressed against the wall in a corner, I saw them.
Three people, huddled together, the crying coming from a dark-haired girl burying her face in her palms.
Next to her was a blonde girl I recognized immediately—Caitlin.
From Seraphina's group, the most cutting one, who always looked at me with that contemptuous gaze, as if I were some stain that shouldn't exist.
But now her carefully made-up face was streaked with tears, eyeliner smudged everywhere, her expression full of panic and confusion.
She was curled up against the wall with her arms around her knees, like a frightened animal.
And there was a boy I didn't know, his arm around both of them, face pale, eyes full of fear.
I knew that feeling. Ten minutes ago, I'd felt the same way.
I cleared my throat gently, not wanting to startle them. "Hey."
All three heads snapped up simultaneously, and the boy jumped to his feet, putting himself between the two girls. His fists clenched in a defensive posture, but I could see his hands shaking.
"Don't come closer!" he said hysterically. "Don't fucking come near us!"
I immediately raised both hands, stopping where I was. "I won't hurt you. I swear."
"How did you find us?" His voice was full of suspicion and fear. "Who are you? Are you—are you sent by her?"
"Her?" My heart raced. "The blonde woman? Wearing a dark coat?"
Caitlin's head snapped up, eyes wide. But the moment she recognized it was me, I saw a complex expression flash across her face—shame, anger. "You saw her?"
She bit her lower lip, that habitual arrogant posture trying to return to her face but failing. Her hands gripped her coat tightly.
"I did," I said, my voice trembling slightly from the adrenaline still flowing through my veins. "At the campus store. She looked at me, then I lost control. Woke up here."
I slowly lowered my hands but kept my distance. "Same thing that happened to you. Right?"
The dark-haired girl let out a near-breakdown whimper.
"We didn't do anything. We were just studying in the library, then walking back to the dorm, and then—" her voice broke, and she started crying again.
The boy's defensive posture relaxed somewhat, but he still stood in front of the girls.
"You're from Seattle University," the boy said. "I've seen you. In the Life Sciences building."
"Carol," I said. "Carol Valodin."
The dark-haired girl lifted her head to look at me, tears still on her face. "My mom must be going crazy. I was supposed to be home two hours ago."
I raised my hand to check my watch. 4:30 PM. "I don't know when you got here. But I was around—"
I tried to recall. "I was around 3 PM when I encountered that woman at the store."
"We were at noon," the boy said. "Twelve o'clock. I remember clearly because the library clock had just struck. Then we walked out, and I saw—"
He paused, swallowing. "She was just standing there on the sidewalk. Looking at us."
"Then we were here," Caitlin said quietly. "Like time had skipped. Like someone had cut out all the middle parts."
My stomach churned.
"Are any of you hurt?" I asked. "Have you checked yourselves?"
The boy nodded. "First thing we did when we woke up. No wounds. No—"
He paused, blushing. "No signs of being touched. Clothes are intact."
"Then what does she want?" The dark-haired girl's voice rose with panic. "If she doesn't want to hurt us, why control us? Why bring us to this godforsaken place?"
I didn't know how to answer.
Because I didn't know either. That blonde vampire clearly had some purpose, but I couldn't understand it.
Why control four students? Why bring us to the same abandoned warehouse area? Why leave no trace of harm?
"I don't know," I said honestly. "But we need to leave. I have someone who can pick us up."
"Police," the boy said immediately. "We should call the police. This is kidnapping."
"I know," I interrupted him. "We will call the police. But right now, we need to get out of here first. This place isn't safe."
I looked around at the dilapidated warehouses and empty streets. "If she—if that woman comes back—"
I didn't need to finish. All three faces paled further.
I pulled out my phone, my fingers still trembling slightly, and scrolled to Leon's number. He picked up on the second ring.
"What's wrong," he said immediately.
"I need a ride," I said. "There are four of us. I'll send you the location."
"Four?" A pause. "Are you hurt?"
"No. But something happened. I'll explain when you get here."
"Ten minutes."
He hung up. I marked our location on the map and sent it to him, then shoved my phone back in my pocket.
"Someone's coming to pick us up," I told them. "Ten minutes."
I sat down on the ground near them, back against the wall, but kept enough distance not to make them feel invaded. My legs were still shaking, and the adrenaline was starting to fade, leaving only exhaustion and confusion.
We waited in silence. Occasionally the sound of a distant car, or seagulls calling from the direction of the waterfront.
Seven minutes later, I heard the engine. A black sedan turned the corner and pulled smoothly to a stop near us on the curb.