Ambrose stood still, not daring to move a muscle.
That… voice.
It sounded like it was right behind him. Yet it also sounded like it was coming from every angle. Not to mention his instincts flared, subconsciously making him know if he didn't do as he was told, he was done for.
[WARNING: Psychic link detected.]
He frowned. 'What does that mean?'
[Someone has created a mental link with the host, allowing them to send their thoughts to you.]
His face paled. '... You mean telepathy?'
Shit.
Of all the kind of people he imagined ambushing him in the middle of the holy city, a telepath wasn't in his bingo card.
He swung his head to the ice-cream shop, peering through the clear glass doors. Devon was at the counter, discussing with the person behind it.
"Look ahead." The voice echoed just then.
Taking in a deep breath, he brought his head forward, his shoulders stiffening as he waited for what the person had to say next.
