Page 30 of Roaring Heat
"You shouldn't be. You shouldn't have gotten that close."
I blink, and realize he's glaring down at me, furious and tight-jawed, every line in his face etched with barely restrained emotion.
"It hit me," I murmur.
"No shit."
"It knew I was here. It aimed."
Realization tears through me with a fresh strike. Not random. Not chaos. Intent. My skin crawls with the memory of its force, every nerve ending wired with the knowledge that I was the target. I feel exposed, vulnerable in a way no scientific theory can explain.It's as though I'm under a microscope, studied by something vast and unknowable, a threat marked not by malice but by an ancient, relentless awareness.
And somewhere beneath the fear, a slow-burning heat twists low in my belly. It isn’t just dread. It’s the dark, electric thrill of being seen, marked by something older than memory, as if the land itself has reached out and wrapped around me, refusing to let go.
His jaw tightens, and something unreadable flashes across his eyes, too fleeting to name. Wariness, perhaps. Or resolve. I feel the shift like a current between us, his reaction landing like apunch to my ribs. I’ve either crossed a line or revealed a truth he wasn’t ready to hear.
Eli crouches beside us. "She isn't wrong. That line reacted to her like it recognized something."
"Recognized or rejected?" Beau asks.
"Does it matter?" Sawyer’s voice is sharp. "It still knocked her on her ass."
Beau steadies me with a firm grip under my arms, helping me rise to a sitting position. As I reach for his wrist, our skin brushes, and a tremor rumbles beneath us. It's a low, dangerous purr that vibrates up through the soles of my boots, the kind of subterranean growl that feels alive. It rises from the earth with tense, rippling energy, like something vast and primal just beneath the surface, waiting to be unleashed.
I let go. The sound fades. But the echo of it lingers in my chest, like a thread of static caught between us. My fingers twitch, aching with the memory of his skin against mine. It wasn’t just touch. It was connection. Electric. I feel like I stepped too close to something sacred, or maybe something feral and watching. A low thrum still pulses beneath my skin, as if the earth reached up with invisible fingers and brushed against my soul, testing its resonance and finding something it knew. The sensation lingers like a phantom caress, unsettling and intimate, as if the land itself recognizes me and is quietly weighing its decision. Will it let me stay, or claim me for something I can’t yet name? The question winds tight in my chest, echoing through every nerve like a touch that won't fade. My skin remembers the contact long after the ground falls still.
Beau stares at me. "That’s not coincidence."
"No," I say quietly, accepting the truth of everything that's happened. "It’s not."
"You said you weren’t supposed to take this job," Eli says. "Something rerouted you here."
"My file was meant for Yosemite," I admit. "It got diverted. The job offer wasn’t even meant for me."
"Bullshit," Beau mutters.
"I'm telling you the truth. I thought it was fate. Or a lucky accident. But maybe it wasn’t luck. I think there's something larger at work here. Maybe something pulled me here."
The fissure pulses again, its glow swelling until the clearing is bathed in searing, unnatural light. The brightness cleaves through the mist like a blade of fire, and the air thickens around me, saturated with a charged vibration that thrums in my ears and clenches along my jaw.
Beau rises and turns to his brothers. "We’re done here tonight. Sawyer, can you and Eli get the area locked down? I think it's too dangerous for anyone to come near."
Sawyer nods and exchanges a glance with Eli. They move off together, circling the fissure’s edge to check the perimeter, their boots crunching over scorched moss and unsettled soil. No words are spoken, but their focus is razor-sharp. Each step is deliberate, scanning the treeline for signs that whatever stirred the ley lines might still be near.
Beau glances back, eyes flashing. "You're coming with me."
"I didn’t mean to provoke it."
Something about him softens. "You didn’t need to. It already wanted something from you."
He takes my hand with a tenderness that carries weight, as if releasing me would be more painful than pulling me along. We move through the woods in silence, his grip firming each time I falter. Only when we reach a clearing nestled between towering redwoods does he stop.
"Where are we?" I ask, voice low.
Beau glances around before answering. "Somewhere safe. For now."
I square my shoulders and face him. "You think I did something wrong."
He doesn’t deny it. "I think you don’t understand what you’re dealing with or what your part might be."
