•Illumoria•

CHAPTER THREE

"Anything that's his—coat, journal, medical crap—find it fast!"

Before she could answer, the doctor reappeared—angrier this time. His arm swung like a hammer, and the blow knocked me sideways. My shoulder hit the wall hard enough to rattle my teeth.
My head spun. Somewhere on the other side of the door, Olivia's flashlight was darting around.

Then I heard her mutter—half panicked, half determined—"Think, think..."

She dropped to her knees, rifling through our gear bag. "Where the hell—" Her hands hit something crinkly at the very bottom. She froze. Pulled them out. Tiny white packets with golden arches printed on them.

Her lips twitched in disbelief. "McDonald's...?"
No time to question it—she ripped the packets open with her teeth, dumping the salt in a sloppy line across the coat hanging on the cracked wall. She struck three matches at once, tossed them on, and flames roared up the filthy fabric.

The doctor let out an ear-splitting scream, his form blistering, cracking, then blowing apart into ash.

The door flew open, and Olivia rushed in, shoving the matches back in her pocket. My legs barely worked, but she slid under my arm and hauled me up.

By the time we stumbled out into the freezing night, I was half leaning on her, half dragging myself forward. My scalp throbbed, my fingertips burned, and every breath stabbed at my ribs.

At the car, I turned to her with a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "You are so not ready to go off on your own."

She didn't argue.

I slid into the Camaro, slammed the door, and drove us toward the empty road, the asylum shrinking in the rearview.

•THIRD PERSON POV•

They'd been on the road for nearly three hours.
The Camaro's engine hummed low, the radio offered nothing but faint static, and the air between Parker and Olivia was thick enough to choke on. Parker's hands gripped the wheel loosely, but her jaw was clenched, eyes fixed on the dark stretch of highway ahead. She hadn't said a single word since they'd pulled away from the hospital.

Olivia sat stiff in the passenger seat, guilt gnawing at her insides. How do you forget salt? The thought kept replaying like a bad song. If she'd just grabbed that stupid canister from the motel, maybe Parker wouldn't have been dragged halfway through a haunted asylum by her hair.
Her self-loathing spiral was broken by the sharp chirp of Parker's phone in the cup holder.

Parker picked it up, pressed it to her ear, and muttered, "'Yellow," her voice gravelly from exhaustion.

"How'd the hunt go?" Bobby Singer's familiar, gruff voice came through the line—the man who'd practically raised them both.

Parker made a low sound in her throat, debating just how much truth to spill. "Well... other than the fact I have a concussion and probably a broken rib? Great."

There was a long exhale on the other end. "Idjit," Bobby muttered, the word heavy with both frustration and worry. "What happened, Parker? Be honest." He'd raised these girls; he knew when they were hiding something, and he wasn't about to let it slide.

Parker's eyes flicked sideways toward Olivia. The younger girl looked like she was trying not to hyperventilate, knuckles white against her jeans.

"I thought Olivia was ready to hunt," Parker said slowly, "but... she still needs to study."
Olivia's chest tightened.

"Unfortunately," Parker went on, "she forgot something we kinda needed."

There was a pause, Bobby speaking low enough that Olivia couldn't hear the words—but the tone was sharp enough to cut glass.

"No, no," Parker said, rubbing her temple, "she forgot the salt."

Olivia's stomach dropped. Her heart thudded against her ribs like it was trying to break out. She wanted to disappear.

Parker held the phone out toward her. "It's Bobby. He wants to talk to you."

Olivia swallowed, wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans, and took the phone like it might bite her.

"H... hey, Dad," she said, voice shaky.

"How," Bobby's voice boomed down the line, "could you forget the salt?"

Olivia flinched, curling a little in her seat. "I—"

"You know what? Don't answer that." His tone was iron, but beneath it was something else—fear, the kind he'd never admit out loud. "You're back on study duty until you can recite those damn books forward and backward. Clear?"

"Yes, sir," she mumbled.

The line went dead with a click.

Olivia handed the phone back to Parker, eyes downcast.

Parker slipped it into the cup holder and kept her gaze on the road. For a moment, the silence felt like it might smother them again—until Parker sighed and muttered, "You're lucky you're my sister. Anyone else, I'd have left in that asylum to learn the hard way."

Olivia huffed a faint, embarrassed laugh. "Guess I owe you McDonald's for using those salt packets."

Parker's lips twitched, but she didn't look away from the road. "Yeah. You're buying next time."

Olivia exhaled shakily, leaning her head back against the seat. "I... I'm really sorry, Parker."

Parker glanced at her, eyes softening. "Hey... it's fine. You panicked, it happens. We just... regroup at the car next time, grab the salt, and come back. No big deal."

Olivia blinked, relief flooding her. "You're not mad?"

"Mad? No. Scared out of my mind? Hell yes," Parker admitted with a faint smirk. "You're my little sister. I don't want anything happening to you."

Olivia's lips curved into a small smile. "Thanks... for always having my back."

"Always," Parker said firmly, reaching over to squeeze her hand. For a moment, the tension melted, leaving only the quiet hum of the road and the unspoken promise that they'd always watch out for each other, no matter how dangerous the world got.