Chapter 39 39
Annabeth's POV:
Being Kaelen's official girlfriend made me stupidly happy in ways I didn't expect. Like, I'd catch myself smiling at random moments during class for no reason except remembering the way he'd kissed me goodbye that morning, or I'd get this warm feeling in my chest when my phone buzzed with a text from him asking how my day was going.
The past few days had been almost aggressively normal and I loved every second of it.
We studied together in the library, him helping me with my Chemistry homework even though he was terrible at science, me reading over his literature essays and pointing out where he was overthinking the symbolism. He'd read poetry out loud to me in this voice that made even Beowulf sound romantic, and I'd pretend to understand what the hell the Old English meant while really just watching his mouth form the words.
Marlen had been insufferable about us being official, exactly like Kaelen predicted. She'd actually smiled when I showed up at their house the day after he asked me out, this rare genuine smile that transformed her whole face, and said "finally, he stopped being an idiot about it." Lucian had not been any more subtle, he was in ecstasy about the idea of Kaelen having a real girlfriend. I'd even caught him grinning at his phone later and when I asked what was funny he said Kaelen had texted him something sappy about me and he was saving it for blackmail purposes.
I also told my aunt, and explained to her that we were leaving the bond stuff for later. She approved that idea, saying that it was wise taking into account how young we still were. And she also told me that if Kaelen turned an asshole at any point she would deal with him personally for messing around with me, her beautiful treasure.
It was perfect. Normal couple stuff, normal family dynamics, normal college student life.
Except for the growing feeling that someone was watching me.
It started small, easy to dismiss as paranoia left over from everything Kaelen had told me about the Order. I'd be walking to my car after class and feel this prickling sensation on the back of my neck, that instinctive awareness of eyes on me. I'd turn around and there'd be nothing, just other students walking past focused on their phones or conversations, nobody paying attention to me at all.
Probably just in my head, right?
Then I started noticing the car.
Black sedan, with tinted windows, parked on my street three times in one week. I only noticed because it was always in the same spot, right across from Mrs. Henderson's house with the ugly lawn flamingos. The first time I saw it I didn't think anything of it. Second time I wondered if Mrs. Henderson had visitors. Third time I started paying attention, tried to see if there was anyone inside, but the windows were too dark and I felt stupid standing there staring at a random car like some kind of paranoid freak.
Maybe it belonged to someone in the neighborhood. Maybe I'd just never noticed it before.
But my senses were telling me something was wrong, this low-level anxiety that wouldn't go away no matter how many times I told myself I was being ridiculous.
The worst instance happened on campus between classes. I was walking from the science building to the library, taking the path through the quad that was usually pretty crowded this time of day. The feeling of being watched hit me so hard I actually stopped walking, my heart jumping into my throat.
I turned around fast, scanning the quad.
There, at the edge of my vision, a figure in dark clothes standing by the fountain. Too far away to make out details but something about the way they were standing, the stillness of them while everyone else moved around them, made every instinct I had scream danger.
I blinked and they were gone. Just vanished into the crowd like they'd never been there at all.
My hands started shaking and I shoved them into my pockets, trying to look casual even though my pulse was racing. I walked to the library faster than I needed to and didn't look back, didn't let myself turn around to see if they were following.
Probably nothing. Probably just a student standing around. Probably my overactive imagination turning normal things into threats.
But it didn't feel like nothing.
I thought about telling Kaelen maybe fifteen times that day. Pulled out my phone, started typing a message, then deleted it before sending. What would I even say? "Hey, I think someone might be watching me but I have zero proof and I might just be going crazy"? He'd worry, he'd probably insist on being with me constantly, and I didn't want that. Didn't want to be the girl who needed constant protection because she couldn't handle a little paranoia.
Besides, I sounded like Marlen. Sweet, anxious Marlen who saw threats in every shadow and jumped at loud noises. I didn't want to be that person, didn't want fear to control my life.
So I kept it to myself and tried to convince myself it was nothing.
That night I practiced my fire control alone in my just half restored room, doors locked and curtains drawn. Aunt Sarah was downstairs watching some crime show she was obsessed with and the house was quiet except for the distant sound of the TV.
I sat cross-legged on my bed and closed my eyes, doing the breathing exercises Kaelen had taught me. In, acknowledge the heat. Out, let it settle. The fire rose inside me, familiar now, less terrifying than it used to be. I could feel it moving through my blood, concentrated energy that wanted to burst out and consume everything.
But I held it. Controlled it. Let it burn without letting it escape.
Thirty seconds. Forty-five. A minute. My hands started to warm up, the air around me getting thick with heat, but I kept breathing and kept the flames inside.
Minute and a half. The effort was making me sweat, my shirt sticking to my back and my hair damp at my temples.
Two minutes.
I opened my eyes and looked at my hands. They were glowing slightly, red light visible under my skin like I had fire instead of blood, but nothing was burning. The bedspread was fine, the new curtains were intact, I hadn't accidentally destroyed anything... again.
Progress.
I let the fire go gradually, easing it back down until the glow faded and my hands looked normal again. My whole body was exhausted, that bone-deep tiredness that came from using my powers, but I was smiling.
Two minutes and seven seconds. My new record.
Kaelen would be proud. Hell, I was proud. A few weeks ago I couldn't hold it for ten seconds without burning something, and now I could control it for over two minutes. I was getting better, stronger, more in control of the dragon nature that I'd spent eighteen years not knowing existed.
But the pride was undercut by fear, that persistent anxiety that wouldn't leave me alone.
I got up and walked to my window, pulling back the curtain just enough to see the street below. Dark except for the streetlights, a few parked cars, houses with their windows lit up against the night. Everything looked normal and peaceful.
But was someone out there watching me right now? Had they been watching when I practiced, when my hands glowed red with barely controlled fire?
The black car wasn't there tonight but that didn't mean much. They could be in a different car, or on foot, or maybe I really was just going crazy and there was no "they" at all.
I let the curtain fall and went back to my bed, pulling my phone off the nightstand. One new text from Kaelen: "How did practice go tonight?"
I typed back: "Good. Got to two minutes."
His response came immediately: "That's amazing! I knew you could do it. Proud of you."
Three little words that made my chest warm. Proud of you. God, I loved him. Loved him in a way that was probably too intense for how long we'd been together, but the bond made everything more concentrated, more immediate.
I wanted to tell him about the watching feeling, about the car and the figure by the fountain and the fear that was slowly becoming a constant companion. But I also wanted him to sleep tonight without worrying, wanted to have proof before I made this into a thing.
"Thanks," I typed. "See you tomorrow for training?"
"Yeah. After your classes. I'll pick you up."
"Okay. Love you."
"Love you too. Sleep well."
I set the phone down and lay back on my bed, staring at the ceiling. Sleep well. Right. Like I was going to sleep knowing that someone might be out there, knowing that the Order was real and dangerous and actively hunting people like me.
The paranoia settled into my bones and made itself comfortable, and I had the terrible feeling it was going to be a long time before I felt safe again.