Total pages in book: 122
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115997 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 580(@200wpm)___ 464(@250wpm)___ 387(@300wpm)
I must have spoken—or cried—the words aloud, because he whipped toward me, grasping the side of my cheek with his hand and leaning in like he could somehow block out everything around us.
“Look at me,” he ordered.
I dragged my focus from the apocalypse outside our window, and his blue eyes bored into mine, consuming my field of vision until he was all I could see.
“This will be okay.” He was so calm, so sure.
So utterly freaking insane.
“This is not okay!” My voice was a strangled whisper as we plummeted downward, our angle only decreasing slightly as we leveled out horizontally, but not vertically.
“Stay calm!” one of the flight attendants called out as the plane shuddered, the metal vibrating around us like it would come apart at any second.
I swallowed the scream in my throat and focused on Nate.
“This is the captain,” a tense voice said over the speaker. “Brace for impact.”
We’re going to die.
My pulse thundered so loud it became a roar in my ears, mixing with the cacophony of startled cries from the other passengers.
Nate’s eyes flew wide and he released my cheek, but he kept hold of my hand as we moved to follow instructions.
“Brace! Brace! Brace!” the flight attendants yelled in cadence. “Head down! Stay down!”
I folded my body in half, resting my face near my knees and covering my head with my right hand. My left stayed firmly entwined with Nate’s as we fell from the sky.
“It’s okay,” he promised, mirroring my position as best he could as the flight attendants repeated their commands. “Just keep looking at me. You’re not alone.”
“Not alone,” I repeated, our hands clasped so tight we may as well have been welded as one in that moment.
“Brace! Brace! Brace! Head down! Stay down!”
There was no montage of my life flashing in front of my eyes. No outcry from my soul that I hadn’t accomplished anything of any significance in my eighteen years on this planet. None of the revelations people talked about after coming out of near-death experiences. Because this wasn’t near-death.
This was actual death. Period.
Serena—
“Brace!”
We hit a brick wall and I became a projectile, my seat belt punching my stomach as my limbs went limp, flinging forward without instruction.
We hurtled to the left, and pain erupted in my side. Then we were weightless for a breath of a heartbeat before ramming the earth again like a stone that had been skipped on an unforgiving lake.
Every bone in my body jarred loose.
My head bounced off the tray table.
Something heavy pressed against my back as we barreled forward through unreceptive terrain to the soundtrack of screeching metal and screams. The very ground beneath us roared and the world went dark.
We . . . stopped.
My vision blurred as I lifted my head, the seat in front of me barely discernible in the murky darkness.
Was this it? Was this death? No singing angels or waves of energy . . . just . . . this? Whatever this was? It felt like being rocked to sleep, rising and falling a little with each breath.
Green lights flickered, illuminating the cabin just as the darkness fell away from the windows in a wave.
I blinked, trying to force my eyes to focus.
A woman across the aisle opened her mouth, but the ringing in my ears eclipsed any sound she tried to make. There was a baby in her arms, and it, too, appeared to be caught in a soundless scream.
Warmth surrounded the side of my face as my head was turned.
Nathaniel.
He was alive . . . and so was I.
His mouth opened and closed, his eyes searching mine as a stream of blood ran down the side of his face from a source somewhere above his left eye.
“What are you trying to say?” I called out. “You’re hurt!” I lifted a trembling hand to his face.
His mouth moved again, and suddenly there was another sound competing with the high-pitched roar in my ears. The intercom?
“We have to move!” Nate shouted, his voice breaking through. “Izzy! We have to move!”
As though someone had hit unmute on the TV remote, sounds of panicked cries and wailing came rushing in.
“Evacuate! Evacuate!” The command came over the intercom.
We’d somehow managed to survive, but for how long?
“Are you okay?” I asked.
“I have to get the door!” Nate gave my hand a squeeze and then unlaced our fingers, unbuckling my seat belt before unlatching his own. “Can you get yours?” he yelled across the aisle.
“I’m on it!” a voice answered.
Nate stood, his enormous back blocking the view of the emergency exit as he worked the handle.
Something ice cold rushed from the floor, chilling my feet instantaneously.
“Oh God, we’re in the water,” I said to myself. The river.
People stumbled into the aisles in a flurry of movement.
Nate dislodged the door, then threw it outside the plane using both hands.