Rissa’s POV

The world tilts.

Not slowly.

Not gently.

One second I am grounded, Mark’s hand on me, Josh at my side, the street cracking beneath us.

The next, everything rips.

The figure’s grip tightens around my wrist and the force behind it is not something I can fight. It is not strength. It is not speed.

It is ownership.

“Mark!” I shout.

His name tears out of me as I reach for him with my free hand.

I almost make it.

His fingers brush mine.

Then the pull snaps ...