The silence between them was no longer empty.
It pulsed.
McKenna stood in the ruins of her room, heart thundering in her chest, while miles away, McKayla pressed her palms to the earth outside her window, gasping for air she couldn’t find. They had felt each other before — flashes of pain, ripples of anger, the sting of confusion — but now something shifted.
It wasn’t just feeling anymore. It was movement.
McKenna’s pulse faltered, and McKayla’s heart caught it, steadying it.
McKayla’s knees buckled, and McKenna’s strength surged to hold her upright.
Neither spoke a word, but their breaths synced — one exhale, one inhale — as if the same heartbeat ruled them both.
A light flared between them. Neither could see it, but both could feel it: a tether, shimmering and alive, born of blood
