Thriexa Aizih POV

  The stage lights cast a soft glow over the assembled crowd, their faces a mixture of curiosity, skepticism, and cautious optimism. The venue was grand, a vast hall filled with representatives, leaders, and civilians alike—people eager to hear more about what the Eova had to offer. I stood at the podium, composed, my voice even as I addressed them.

  “The future of our people, yours and mine, will not be built on fear. It will not be shaped by conflict or division. It will be built on understanding, on trust, on the willingness to grow together. That is why I stand before you today—not as a ruler, not as an outsider seeking to change your way of life, but as an ally, offering knowledge and cooperation.”

  As I spoke, my awareness expanded beyond just the words I was saying. I could feel the room—intentions shifting like the tide, uncertainty blending with cautious hope, each person holding onto their own private thoughts of acceptance or resistance. Some wanted to ask questions but hesitated, their curiosity battling with skepticism. Others fought the urge to stand and shout in anger but held their tongues, clenching their fists instead. Some grew restless, their minds wandering to the desire to stretch or step out for air, but they remained seated, tethered by duty or obligation. Others simply listened, their intentions steady, open to understanding.

  Then, I felt something else—an isolated flicker of wariness, sharp and distinct, standing out against the sea of mixed emotions.

  A flicker of wariness—not mine, but Jace’s.

  Jace Strickland POV

  From my position near the stage, I scanned the crowd. Security was tight, with agents stationed at every exit and cameras monitoring every angle, but something still felt off.

  Then I saw him.

  A man at the back of the room, standing apart from the others. He wasn’t looking at Thriexa the way the rest of the audience was—there was no curiosity, no skepticism, just something unreadable. My gut tightened.

  I pressed my hand to my earpiece. “Suspicious individual, back of the room, far right. Brown coat, arms crossed. Keep eyes on him.”

  I was already moving closer, assessing him from a better angle, when I heard a voice in my head.

  Jace, he is not a threat.

  I stopped short, my jaw tightening.

  Thriexa.

  From the stage, she hadn’t even glanced in my direction, her voice still flowing seamlessly through her speech. But I felt her words as clearly as if she had whispered them in my ear.

  I exhaled sharply but didn’t move any further. Instead, I watched the man. He shifted his weight slightly, listening intently, his expression serious but not hostile. His intentions were layered—I could tell he wasn’t fully at ease, but there was no malice in his stance. Thriexa was right. He wasn’t dangerous.

  Thriexa Aizih POV

  Jace’s tension eased slightly, though I could still feel the edge of his suspicion lingering. I continued my speech, finishing my final thoughts before stepping away from the podium. The room erupted into polite applause, and I nodded graciously before making my way offstage.

  Jace was waiting for me the moment I stepped down.

  “We need to talk,” he said, his voice low but firm.

  I nodded, already knowing what he was going to ask.

  Jace Strickland POV

  I led her away from the crowd into a quieter corridor, away from prying ears. “Alright,” I said, crossing my arms. “I need to know—how exactly does your ability work? How did you know that guy wasn’t a threat?”

  Thriexa studied me for a moment, then sighed. “I can sense intentions, Jace. Not thoughts, not emotions, but intent. I knew he wasn’t planning harm because I could feel that he was simply listening. He was cautious, yes, but not violent.”

  I frowned. “So you can tell if someone is lying?”

  “Not exactly,” she admitted. “I can sense what they want to do, what their actions are guided by. But intentions can shift, just as emotions do. It is not an absolute ability, which is why I must always be careful.”

  I considered her words, trying to process the implications. “Have you ever been wrong?”

  Her expression darkened slightly. “Once. And I do not intend to be again.”

  I didn’t push further, but I made a mental note. Her ability might be useful, but it wasn’t infallible. And if someone figured out how to manipulate their own intentions…

  “So, you can sense everything in the room?” I asked. “You knew who wanted to ask a question before they even raised their hand?”

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  She nodded. “Yes. I knew who wanted to stand and object, who wanted to storm out but didn’t, who wanted to listen but wasn’t sure how to accept what I was saying.”

  I exhaled. “Alright. I’ll trust you on this. But it’s terrifying to have someone’s voice pop into my head out of nowhere.”

  Her lips curved into a small smile, and she let out a quiet laugh. “It was effective, was it not?” Then, after a pause, she added, “But I do apologize. I sometimes forget how startling it can be.”

  I shook my head, suppressing a smirk. “You’re impossible.”

  She simply smiled. “I believe the phrase you’re looking for is ‘highly efficient.’”

  I let out a short laugh, but underneath it, I was still thinking.

  If intentions weren’t always absolute, then trust would have to be built the old-fashioned way—with time.

  Thriexa Aizih POV

  The backstage conversation with Jace still lingered in my mind as I took my seat on stage. He had wanted to understand my abilities more, had questioned how I could be so sure of a person’s intent. I had explained, but I knew he still carried doubts. I had sensed that, too.

  Now, under the bright stage lights, with the eyes of hundreds upon me, I let that conversation slip away, my focus shifting to the room itself. Another politician stood at the podium, speaking about the future of interspecies cooperation. His words were measured, careful, each one designed to soothe fears while maintaining control. But I wasn’t listening to the speech itself.

  I was listening to the room.

  Intentions rippled through the crowd like waves, colliding and diverging as individuals weighed their next moves. Some carried the firm resolve to listen, their minds actively analyzing each word, already considering how to integrate this moment into their worldview. Others wavered, torn between their duty to remain and their desire to leave, uncertain whether this gathering was a step toward progress or a dangerous mistake. And then, there were those who sat still, bodies rigid, their focus narrowing with singular purpose—resistance. Their intent was not to listen, not to engage, but to reject, to disrupt, to act.

  Then, without warning, a sharp sting of intent struck me like a physical blow. It was unlike anything else in the room. It wasn’t just frustration or skepticism. It was focused. A deliberate, singular purpose.

  I inhaled sharply, masking my reaction as I sent my thoughts outward. Tocci.

  Her response came instantly, her own emotions flashing with alarm. I feel it too. Anger. But there’s something else—something dangerous. What is happening?

  I didn’t hesitate. Rising smoothly to my feet, I stepped toward the podium, cutting off the politician mid-sentence. He turned toward me, startled, but I spoke over him with absolute authority.

  “This event is over. Everyone needs to exit the building. Now.”

  Murmurs of confusion spread through the audience, but I didn’t waver. I met Jace’s gaze from across the room. There is a bomb.

  His entire posture shifted in an instant. His hand went to his earpiece as he barked orders. Within seconds, he and his security team were moving, sweeping toward me.

  Tocci’s presence flared in my mind again. We’re searching for it now. Trenal is working with the event coordinators to keep people calm while we locate it.

  Jace reached me just as his agents began ushering people toward the exits. He grabbed my arm, his voice low but urgent. “Where is it?”

  “I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “But it’s here.”

  That was all he needed. “Move. Now.”

  He and his team rushed me toward safety while Tocci and her security force scoured the building. The tension in the air was suffocating, the weight of what could happen pressing down on all of us.

  And then, Tocci’s voice came through, firm and steady. We found it.

  I exhaled. But the danger wasn’t over yet.

  As we stepped outside, the crisp night air did little to ease the tension gripping my chest. Jace and his team wasted no time moving me toward a waiting vehicle, the urgency in their steps evident. Trenal was already making arrangements, ensuring the crowd was kept away from the exits. Tocci remained on high alert, scanning every face, every movement.

  Jace placed a firm hand on my back, guiding me quickly toward the car. “We need to get you out of here, now.”

  I nodded, slipping into the backseat, my heart still hammering from the weight of what had just occurred. But something shifted in Jace’s posture—his body tensed, his eyes flicking upward to the buildings surrounding us.

  Then, in a blur of movement, he grabbed me and yanked me to the ground.

  A loud crack split the air. The sound of metal denting rang out as the bullet struck the car door right where I had been standing moments ago.

  Jace was already moving, shielding me with his body as he barked into his earpiece. “Shooter! Northwest rooftop! Get eyes on them now!”

  Chaos erupted as agents scrambled into motion. Tocci and Trenal reacted instantly, while Jace pressed me against the pavement, his breathing controlled but tense.

  “Are you hurt?” he demanded.

  “No,” I managed, but my mind was racing. The intent I had sensed inside had been violent—but not this. This was something else. Something distant. Too far away for me to detect. The bomb had been a distraction. This attack had been planned with precision, executed by someone who had no intention of being felt until it was too late.

  Jace’s grip on my arm tightened for a second before he turned toward his team. “We need to move her! Now!”

  Jace and the rest of the security team formed a tight wall around me as Jace pulled me to my feet and pushed me into the vehicle. His movements were sharp, efficient, but I could feel the urgency thrumming beneath them. He climbed in beside me, slamming the door shut as the car sped off, leaving the chaos behind.

  Jace Strickland POV

  I barely registered the shouts from my earpiece as I turned toward Thriexa, scanning her over. My hands moved instinctively, checking her arms, her shoulders, searching for any sign of injury. “Are you hit?”

  “No,” she said quickly, her voice steady, but there was something in her eyes—something that unsettled me.

  I exhaled, my pulse still pounding. “Damn it, Thriexa. That was too close.”

  She didn’t argue. She didn’t even react right away. She just sat there, staring at the seat in front of her, her hands clenched into fists. I’d seen her composed in every situation imaginable, but this—this was different.

  “Thriexa?” I pressed, softer this time.

  She blinked, inhaled deeply, then finally looked at me. “I have lived four full lives, Jace. And only once before have I been this close to death.”

  Her words hit me harder than I expected. Four lives. Hundreds of years. And yet, in this moment, she looked shaken in a way I had never seen before.

  I wasn’t sure what to say. Comforting people wasn’t exactly my specialty, and she was different—stronger, more composed. But right now, she wasn’t just a leader or an alien dignitary. She was a person who had just come face-to-face with an assassination attempt.

  I placed a hand over hers, feeling the tension still coiled in her fingers. “You’re safe now. We won’t let this happen again.”

  She let out a slow breath and nodded, though the distant look in her eyes didn’t fade entirely.

  Static crackled in my earpiece, and a voice cut through. “Bomb has been deactivated. Shooter was confronted—he’s down. The bomber has been taken into custody. Situation contained.”

  I clenched my jaw. Contained. For now.