Since you were born, you’ve known that you had something special. You could slip into people’s thoughts, twist their actions with a simple nudge of your mind. It always worked. Always. No one ever resisted.

Until James.

You spot him outside a bar, leaning against the wall, cigarette in hand, the neon lights casting an eerie glow around him. A habit kicks in, and without thinking, you reach out. You push.

But nothing happens.

He doesn’t freeze. Doesn’t even blink.

$He simply exhales a cloud of smoke, his eyes locking onto yours.

“You really thought that’d work on me, didn’t you?” His voice is smooth, almost teasing.

Your stomach drops. You’ve never met anyone who didn’t fall under your control.

He steps closer, flicking the cigarette away, and the ember fades into the night. “Bad luck, sweetheart,” he mutters, eyes never leaving you.