Page 13 of The Immortal’s One (Bound to the Immortals #1)

Even as I stare blankly at the bag of salt and vinegar chips, trying to remember if we already have some at home, the image of the man in the dark coat won’t get out of my head.

I can’t think straight. Every time I blink, he’s there—his eyes fixed on me from across the snow-covered street.

How can I concentrate on things like groceries when my mind insists on replaying the image of him lurking in the gazebo’s shadows whenever I close my eyes?

The eerie memory wouldn’t be so bad if my traitorous imagination didn’t superimpose the haunting green eyes from my nightmares onto the mysterious man’s face, stealing any hope I had of shaking off the unsettling encounter.

I don’t have to guess what tonight’s nightmare is going to be about.

"Darcie?” a woman’s voice says. “Is that you?"

I look up from Dad’s favorite bag of chips and freeze, staring at a young woman who seems vaguely familiar. She stands a few feet away, her eyes full of expectation, seeming to wait for me to recognize her.

“Uh, hi?” I greet lamely.

She wears a Robertson’s uniform, her name tag hidden beneath the cascade of hair hanging over her shoulder.

“It’s Amanda.” She grins. “Amanda Carter.”

My jaw drops. “Amanda?”

“Yeah, I know.” She laughs. “I look different.”

“You look incredible.” The Amanda I remember from high school had braces, acne, and thick, clunky glasses. The woman in front of me doesn't look anything like her.

“Thanks.” She gives a modest shrug, her cheeks turning pink.

“How have you been?” I drop the chips into my cart and rest my hands on the plastic-covered handle.

“Good! I go to St. Phillip’s now. Your dad’s actually one of my professors next semester. I’m so excited for his class! I’ve heard it’s awesome.”

“Oh.” I force my smile to remain in place. I guess Dad hasn’t told the university he’ll be taking a leave of absence while he undergoes chemo. “That’s great.”

“Totally. And I see Kayla around campus a lot. It’s cool you two are still friends.” Her words tumble out in a rapid stream. I scramble to catch each word. “She told me you were coming back to Maine.”

She did?

Kayla is a total gossip. How did she not mention Amanda’s transformation?

“Yeah.” I nod. “I’ve been back for a couple of weeks.”

“She said you were living in Greece.” Awe fills her voice. “That must’ve been incredible.”

“It was. But it’s nice to be home. ”

A monotone voice plays over the intercom, reciting the store’s promotional deal for a new brand of paper towels that ends today.

“I bet,” Amanda says over the announcement. She clears her throat, and the conversation takes an unexpected turn. “So, uh… are you still friends with Kayla’s brother, Kevin?”

I almost choke on saliva.

I cough to clear my throat. “I am… Why do you ask?”

“You’re so lucky.” Amanda sighs dramatically, and her smile turns teasing. “He’s so hot. Don’t you think?”

I blink. “Oh, um… I guess?”

This isn’t the first time girls have cornered me to talk about Kevin. Everyone knew we were friends. Apparently, that makes me the unofficial ambassador to his fan club.

“I’ve had a crush on him forever,” She admits casually, as if we’re discussing the weather. She’s definitely not as shy as I remember. “Do you know if he’s seeing anyone?”

My throat tightens. “I have no idea.”

Kevin’s dating life? Yeah, I wouldn’t touch that subject with a ten-foot pole.

Maybe I’m not brave enough to tell Kevin how I feel, but hearing about him with someone else would be torture.

Amanda pouts. “Bummer. I was hoping you’d know if he’s single. I’ve been trying to work up the courage to ask him out.”

Wow .

This girl is nothing like the quiet, awkward teenager I used to know.

Before I can respond, a voice cuts through our conversation—sharp, demanding. “Do you work here?”

The woman steps into my personal space, stopping just short of shoving me aside to stand directly in front of Amanda. I shift my cart to the right, trying to give her room.

Amanda’s expression remains pleasant, but her shoulders tense. “Yes, ma’am. How can I help you?”

“I’ve searched the entire store for gluten-free crackers and can’t find them anywhere. Does this store even have any?” Her tone is snappish and condescending.

I bite the inside of my cheek. There’s no way the woman searched the entire store. If she had, she would have noticed the health food section tucked in the back corner near the pharmacy.

I study the woman more closely. She’s definitely not from around here. If her accent didn’t give it away, her attire does. The red dress that clings to her slender frame, paired with transparent tights and stilettos, scream “night out,” not “grocery run”.

And the rude woman is not alone. Two more impeccably dressed women stand behind her, their expressions just as sour.

Amanda’s customer-service smile stays in place. “Of course. Gluten-free items are in aisle twenty-one, just over there.” She gestures toward the back of the store, then adds, “Would you like me to show you where it is?”

The woman’s lips curl. “No, thanks. I can read signs.”

Apparently not, since you couldn't find it in the first place.

“Okay.” Amanda’s voice is still light despite the woman’s rudeness. It’s impressive. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

The woman huffs, spinning on her heel with a sharpness that matches her icy demeanor.

But before she walks away, her piercing eyes meet mine.

Her gaze is as biting as a winter storm, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine.

She looks at me like I’m an insect beneath her heel, then dismisses me with a sneer and hair flip.

What the hell did I do to her?

The woman’s stilettos click sharply against the linoleum as she struts away, her entourage trailing behind her with matching disdainful glares.

Amanda watches them go, her smile fading as soon as they turn the corner. “Wow… What a bitch.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“I’ve never seen her before.” She purses her lips. “I hope she’s just passing through Brunswick. The last thing we need is people like that sticking around.”

“I agree,” I murmur, still unnerved by the woman’s parting glare.

Something deep in my gut tells me it’s best to avoid crossing paths with those women again.

I stand behind an older man in the checkout line, my bladder screaming for relief. The store is busy for a Sunday afternoon. I wish they’d open more registers. The coffee I drank this morning is working through me, and I desperately need to use the restroom— now .

Minutes drag on as the man in front of me strikes up a lengthy conversation with the cashier. I shift uncomfortably, doing my best not to squirm.

Finally, it’s my turn.

“Hello,” the friendly cashier greets me with a smile that accentuates her laugh lines. “How are you this afternoon?”

Pride keeps me from crossing my legs like a five-year-old trying to hold their bladder .

“Great, thank you.” Politeness demands I ask, “How are you?”

“I’m wonderful, dear. Thank you for asking.” She begins to scan the items on the conveyor belt.

The bagger turns to talk to his coworker working in the next line over. I bite my tongue to stop from asking him to focus on bagging my items.

I’m never drinking coffee again.

After the slowest bagging experience of my life, I pay and then hurry to push my cart toward the restrooms at the front of the store. I leave my items and rush inside to take care of business.

I’m adjusting my clothes, about to flush the toilet, when heels clicking against tile echo in the bathroom.

Oh no…

“There’s no way she’s The One ,” the woman with the sky-high heels huffs. “Thane must be mistaken.”

Thane?

Of course. I should have guessed.

These women are bound to know the other attractive tourist in town. Maybe they’re dating? I feel bad for Thane if that’s true. The woman is an ice queen.

“There’s nothing special about her,” a different woman chimes in. The faucet turns on. “I mean, did you see her? She looks so plain, so drab in those sweaty clothes.”

I frown. I don’t assume the world revolves around me, but I can’t shake the feeling they’re talking about me. But what exactly are they saying?

The One .

Where have I heard that before?

The memory teases the edge of my mind, just out of reach.

“Yes,” the first woman agrees with a nasty chuckle as the water shuts off. “She takes no pride in her appearance. There’s no way she could be destined to join us. Thane is definitely mistaken.”

As appealing as it would be to hide in the bathroom stall until the women leave, I’m an adult. I refuse to cower in the face of fully grown, mean-girl adults. I flush the toilet, roll my shoulders back, and brace myself to face women I suspect are bad-mouthing me over something I don’t understand.

I push open the stall door and stop in my tracks. All three women are turned towards me, staring at me with cold and malicious grins curling their lips.

My determination falters, but I inhale through my nose and lower my gaze, resolved to ignore them. I walk to the sink and turn on the water, reaching out to the automatic soap dispenser without making eye contact with the women who continue to glare at me.

The woman in the red dress scoffs. “Looks like we have nothing to worry about, ladies.”

They all laugh.

My cheeks burn, but I don’t react.

I turn the water off and grab a paper towel, drying my hands quickly. I step to the door, eager to escape this tense environment, but the woman in sky-high heels blocks my path.

I lift my gaze to meet icy blue eyes. “Excuse me.”

“Oh, look.” She tilts her head. Her red lips curl into a smirk. “She’s polite.”

The other women chuckle coldly.

I press my lips together, trying not to show how rattled I am. I step aside, but one of the other women moves to block me. I lock eyes with her and scowl .

The woman sucks in a breath, her eyes widening with something unsettling.

“Oh my.” She exhales slowly. “The likeness is uncanny… don’t you think?”

Alarm spreads through me as she reaches out like she’s going to touch my face. I step back.

What the hell?

“Don’t be ridiculous.” The woman in the red dress snaps, glaring at her friend. “There’s no resemblance.”

The woman lowers her arms, but she still looks at me like she sees a ghost.

My unease spikes. “Can I help you with something?”

The woman in the red dress shifts her glare from her companion to me. “Yes. Stay away from Desmond.”

I frown. “I don’t know a Desmond.”

She continues as if I didn’t speak, sneering, her words dripping with disdain, “There’s nothing special about you, no matter what anyone says.” She shoots a venomous glare at the woman who said I looked familiar.

“Alright. Cool. Not special. Got it.” I nod stiffly and try to walk past her, but she steps in my way each time I move.

“Seriously?” I roll my eyes. Irritation and panic make my voice rise in pitch. “Please get out of my way.”

“I don’t think I will.” Her voice is low and sharp, her eyes narrowing.

“Evetta…” one of her friends mutters, sounding uneasy. “Don’t. You know what could happen if we interfere.”

The woman, Evetta, lifts a hand and reaches out like she’s going to stroke my face. “You worry too much, Stasia.”

I go to slap her hand away before she can touch me. Only… I can’t .

My muscles lock in place. My brain screams at my limbs to move, but they don’t budge.

Evetta smiles, her manicured fingernail tracing a slow, deliberate path down my cheek. Fear tightens around my chest like a vice.

“You’re risking our lives, Evetta,” says Stasia, her voice terrified now. “Even if she’s not The One , the Council won’t be happy about this.”

“That’s only a problem if we’re caught.” Evetta’s smile widens as if she’s savoring the moment; savoring the fear wafting off me. “Besides, someone will thank us for getting rid of the brothers’ distraction. With their favor, we’ll be untouchable.”

Her words make no sense, but the alarm growing inside me sharpens. I’m at the mercy of whatever trickery Evetta has used to paralyze me.

Something strong and invisible wraps around my throat, squeezing. My vision tunnels, and orbs of light flash at the edges of my eyes. My heartrate spikes.

I gasp, but no oxygen comes.

I… I can’t breathe.