Page 45 of Hidden Echoes

And with that, she turns and walks out.

Leaving me behind, trying to piece together what the hell just happened.

CHAPTER 11

MIA

Zane decided I’d be “better off” staying with his friendCarter while he was at the convention. Bottom line? He sucked all the fun out of my day. It’s not like I was planning to kill anyone—maybe just seriously injure them.

But at least he got the message with that girl. And the others. I’ve been going with him to the studio almost every day, but today’s a big event, and I’ve decided I don’t feel like it.

Now, I have a glorified babysitter. Enter Carter. His sole mission? Making sure I don’t do anything.

Our kiss, however, feels like a fever dream, like one of my delusions. Maybe I really did imagine the whole thing. Because he hasn’t brought it up. Hasn’t even looked at me the same way. Instead, he’s kept his distance, as if I might break him.

And I know it’s not fear of dying. We’ve moved past that. It’s something else. Something I can’t quite decipher.

And honestly? I don’t like to share. We can work out the rest later.

I’ve been in Los Angeles for almost two weeks now, and I feel like I’m figuring out how these people work. Quickly.

The voices are still there, but they don’t drown me like they used to. I haven’t had any reality-altering episodes. I’ve never felt as clear or steady as I do now. And that terrifies me.

No tightness in my chest. No hollowness eating me alive.

I’m okay.

I like it here. Maybe more than I’ve ever liked anywhere I’ve been before. And I know, technically, I’m a lost person to my father. He told me if that ever happened, I had to find my way back.

But I don’t want to. I want to stay.

Even that tight, caged feeling I get in crowded places has been easing, little by little. I like waking up and having my waffles. I like when Zane takes me out to eat somewhere new.

And I like coloring.

Zane laughed when he caught me sketching, but he still bought me a notebook filled with characters and a ridiculous amount of colored pencils. So that’s mostly what I do when I’m home. I tried making waffles on my own once. Almost burned the apartment down. Zane made me swear I wouldn’t try cooking when he wasn’t around.

I might just do it because I think he looks cute when he frowns, especially when he's distressed.

Carter lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping against the couch like his entire existence has been reduced to this moment. The irritation radiating off him is almost comical.

“Have you ever had a real burger?” he asks, his tone thick with disinterest, like he’d rather be literally anywhere else.

I lift my head slowly, giving him a blank stare. Did he just ask me if I’ve ever breathed air? I know he’s trying to get under my skin, but I don’t understand why.

“Yes, I have,” I lie. Zane and I haven’t gone for one yet, and Paulina never let me eat them. “But please, continue explaining the concept of food to me. I’m fascinated.”

Carter’s jaw twitches, clearly irritated by my sarcasm. “You have no idea how much I’d rather be somewhere else right now.”

“The feeling is mutual. Get lost.” I pick up a red pencil and drag it across my sketchbook, feigning interest. Carter is insufferable, but what really pisses me off is not understanding why he’s acting like this.

Zane and I are fine.

And Zane is mine.

Carter doesn’t seem to like that.

I’ve seen it before—girls in the brothels, whispering, plotting, when another girl had a client they wanted for themselves. The silent war of possession. The way their eyes flickered with jealousy right before they attacked.

---