"Ella. Wake up," Austin’s voice cuts through the darkness, low and urgent.
No. I’m too tired. I don’t want to. I groan inwardly, clinging to sleep.
"Ella, we need to go. Now."
Something in his tone yanks me from the haze of sleep. My eyes crack open. Austin’s face is rigid, his jaw tight.
Something is wrong.
I jolt upright, my pulse spiking as I realise it’s still pitch dark outside.
"What’s going on?" I whisper, my voice hoarse.
"Get dressed. Meet me downstairs," he orders, his body coiled with tension. His jaw clenches, then he turns abruptly, striding out of the room.
A surge of emotions slams into me through the bond—anger, fear, grief. Heavy. Suffocating. My heart stutters. This is bad.
I shove down my rising panic and scramble into leggings and a thick hoodie, yanking on my
