Page 200 of Without a Trace
Iwas halfway down the hallway of the main villa, barefoot, a glass of water in one hand and my mind tangled in nothing useful. Outside, the breeze moved through the palms like it had all day—lazy, sunlit, quiet.
Then it hit me.
Like a string yanked tight inside my chest.
I stopped walking.
Not pain. Not panic.
Just something sharp and pulling, low and ancient, like a thread had been tied between my ribs and dragged halfway across the world.
Scarlett.
I set the glass down too hard on the windowsill and dragged a hand over my mouth. My tattoo itched beneath my skin—hot. Alive. Like it knew.
“Trace?”
Kane’s voice came from the open living space. I followed it.
He, Zeke, and Alden were lounging in the sunken den. Kane had a beer. Alden was half-tuned out, flipping a knife in onehand. Zeke was digging through a folder of old Order maps like they were puzzles he didn’t want to solve.
I stood in the doorway.
“She’s at Thirelin.”
All three heads turned.
“What?” Alden straightened immediately, the knife stopping mid-spin.
“I don’t know how,” I said. “I just… feel it. Like she’s pressing against something she shouldn’t be. And it’s pressing back.”
Zeke Just narrowed his eyes and tossed the file aside. “Thirelin’s locked. Hasn’t been touched since—”
“Since we were kids,” Alden said.
Zeke glanced down at his arm, jaw twitching. “You shouldn’t be able to feel her. Not unless—”
“The bond’s not dormant anymore,” I cut in. “Or she walked through something that cracked it open.”
Kane leaned back against the cushions. “Okay. First of all—creepy. Second—what the hell is Thirelin?”
Zeke ran a hand over his face.
Zeke said. “Red Veil territory. Sacred ground. It’s not a house—it’s a living relic. You don’t go to Thirelin unless it wants you there. It borders one of the crossings. Magical and physical lines blur there.”
“So she went off-map,” Kane said. “Classic Scarlett.”
I didn’t laugh.
I stepped outside, onto the stone terrace that overlooked the ocean. The wind didn’t help. The pressure in my chest stayed sharp, like her name was being whispered just under the waves.
Alden came to stand beside me.
He didn’t speak. Just rested his palms on the railing, silent, tense.
I stepped out onto the terrace. The wind was sharp now. Wrong.
The ocean didn’t calm me. It echoed.
