"Let her go or I'll hurt you," Thea warns, her claws growing in size. She uses them to prick at his hand, but he doesn't react to the pain.

His eyes are crazed as he looks at me, wide in terror, his pupils engulfing the whites of his eyes. His grip becomes even stronger as he bares his teeth at me, aggression rolling off him. He doesn't seem in control of his actions, merely responding to his instinctual need to get more of the drug.

"I'm really sorry," I try to placate him again. "We really have no money."

Thea digs her claws into his hand, drawing blood. At last, that seems to get a reaction out of him as he turns to her, his lips slowly pulling up in a sly smirk.

"You," he hisses. "You're one of them."

Thea blinks, her hand suddenly falling away as she takes a step back.

"We need to run, Luce," she whispers, and before I know it, she brings her clawed hand over his arm like a sword, detaching it at the wrist. His fingers dangle off my arm, but he doesn't even notice.

His expression turns covetous as he glances from Thea to me.

"You both are," he continues, taking a step forward.

His arm is bleeding onto the ground, but he ignores it. There's no flicker of pain on his face, nothing to denote he felt the blow. There's only his tunnel vision as he looks at us as if we're his next meal.

"Run," Thea says, taking my hand and pulling me into a sprint. And just like that, he follows, his feet moving with unnatural swiftness for someone his age.

"What's happening?" I ask, willing my legs to keep up with her speed.

"He doesn't need the money anymore. He knows how to get the zantrax from the source," she says, her breath coming in short spurts.

"The source? Us? But⁠—"

"Zantrax is made from the essence of a god. Blood. Body parts. Hair. You name it. It's why it's illegal. And it seems our friend over there is still on his last dose, which means his strength might be even greater than mine," she adds in a scared voice.

I chance a glance back at the running old man. He has a crazed look on his face as he's maybe a few meters behind us. In a matter of seconds, he's going to catch us. There's no doubt about it.

"Faster," Thea urges.

There are other people on the sidelines. But they mind their own business, pretending we're not in danger—that nothing of consequence is happening right on the road in front of their house.

"I'm trying," I breathe out. My lungs are burning from the effort, and I don't know how long I can keep this up.