Her words make me pause. I know Fiona’s story. Know her mother was a drug addict and Fiona was taken away from her, so I have no idea why she just said what she did.

“Do you want to watch a movie or something?” I ask, hoping to get her mind off stuff.

“Nah, movies are lame.” Her mood abruptly lifts. “You want to help me with this art project I’m working on? Maybe we could even get your mom to help with it.”

“Sure.” I scoot back from the table and stand up. “Just let me go change into my pajamas and then I’ll meet you in the living room, okay?’

“Thanks, Lyric. You’re the best.” She heads for the living room, but stops in the doorway. “You’re kind of like the sister I never had. And just think, when you and Ayden get married, you’ll be my sister-in-law.”

She skips out of the room, leaving me shaking my head.

Marriage. I’m so not ready for that yet. Maybe a ways down the road, in like five or six years. Still, just thinking about the future, the possibilities, gets me excited. I just need Ayden here with me.

When I reach my bedroom. I’m extremely distracted as I slip off my sandals and turn on the light, and it takes me a second to notice something’s different about my room. At first, I can’t place a finger on what it is, only that I have an uneasy feeling. I glance at the floor, at the window, then the walls. That’s when I spot the circular symbol painted just above my bed. The same symbol that the Soulless Mileas tattooed on Ayden’s side.

I spin for the door to run downstairs, but crash into a hard, solid object. I trip backwards and open my mouth to scream, but the man I ran into quickly bends down and slaps a hand over my mouth.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you, Lyric.” A grin spreads across his face.

Terror whips through me as I note the knife in his other hand, and I mentally calculate what I should do. There’s no way I’m just going to give in to whatever he’s planning on doing to me; no way I’m going down without a fight. So, I lift my leg to kick him right in the stomach, putting every ounce of strength I have in it.

He curses, falling down on me, and crushing me with his weight. But he recovers quickly and wrestles me to the floor. His hand slips from my mouth as he works to pin me down. I start to scream again, but he moves the knife to my throat.

“Don’t give me a reason to kill you,” he warns, his eyes darkening. “It would really make me angry, especially since I’m not the one who’s supposed to kill you.”

I swallow hard and the movement causes the blade to graze my skin.

He assesses me, then stands up, yanking me to my feet with him. Gripping me by the arm, he drags me to the dresser and cranks up the stereo so loudly I can’t hear myself think—so loud no one can hear me scream.

“M-my parents are going to hear the music and come up here,” I stammer as he grabs me by the hair.

He shakes his head. “You do this enough that they won’t even give it a second thought.”

Vomit burns at my throat. He’s right. I’ve blasted my music for as long as I can remember, and my parents are so used to it by now that it hardly bothers them. What I don’t get, though, is how he knows this.

“We need to get Ayden here,” he says loudly over the music. “He’s the one who’s supposed to be doing this. He’s the one who needs his soul cleansed.”

I’m not quite sure what he’s talking about, but I’m guessing it has to do with the Soulless Mileas and their ritual. My adrenaline skyrockets as panic sets in. I need to get out of here. Now! Figure out a way, Lyric!

“I have an idea,” the man says thoughtfully as he backs me into the wall and lines the knife with my throat again. “Do you have your phone on you?”

Every instinct I have tells me to lie, so I shake my head.

His eyes darken and he roughly sticks his hand into my pocket and grabs my phone. A smile curls at his lips as he scrolls through my contacts and presses a few buttons.

While he’s not paying attention, I seize the opportunity, bring my leg up, and knee him in the balls. He hunches over, gasping for air.

I bolt for the door, opening my mouth, “Help—”

I’m slammed from behind and shoved to the floor. I land hard on my face, but promptly flip over onto my back. The man jumps on me, his knee connecting with my stomach.

I gasp as the wind is knocked out of me.

“I guess it’s going to be me, then.” He pins my arms to the floor then raises his knife above his head.

I kick him again, refusing to give in, as I open my mouth to scream, praying someone will hear me.