Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44459 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
“The stairs,” Chelsea blurted, and—of course.
I’d forgotten about the spiral staircase I’d used to come up to the medical room when I’d gone through Void. We kept our heads low as we ducked through the door into the room then hurried across it to the stairs.
The stairwell wasn’t lit, so I once again used my Zippo to light our way. Down we went, turning endlessly. I didn’t think we’d ever reach the bottom, but finally the stairs leveled off, and we found ourselves in a dark cavern. The floor here was uneven packed dirt, and we heard the sea nearby as the surf pounded the shore.
We didn’t utter a word as we followed the path toward the salty smell of the ocean.
Then we emerged from the cave out into the cold predawn air and stood on the rocky beach at the base of the cliff. The castle jutted above us, and flickering light blinked from its top corner. The fire on the fifth floor was spreading fast.
She didn’t reach for her phone to call for help. It was probably gone anyway, lost in the struggle or her mad dash to escape. But as we watched the fire try to consume the castle, there were distant wails of sirens as emergency vehicles approached.
Chelsea shivered, although I suspected it wasn’t from the cold, and I put my arm around her, tucking her into my side. She responded eagerly, looping her arm around my waist, clinging to me.
There was a tiny cut on the side of her forehead, and a long strand of blood trickled down the side of her face, snaking down her slender throat.
“Are you okay?” I asked, knowing it was a stupid question. Of course she wasn’t. I wasn’t either.
But I meant it physically, and she seemed to get that. She nodded.
“No one’s going to believe what we saw,” I said quietly.
“No, they won’t,” she agreed, her voice small.
No matter how good of a writer I was, we had no evidence. What we hadn’t destroyed of the mirror, the fire would take care of, and all the other witnesses were dead and gone. The story was too fantastical to be real.
She was the only person who’d ever know what I’d been through, and I was the same for her.
Her arm tightened around me, like she couldn’t get close enough. “You saved my life, Tyler. You could have just left me, but you didn’t.”
She turned, wrapping both her arms around me in a hug that was so ferocious, it stole my breath. I felt her trembling, quaking in my arms.
“I was so scared,” she whispered.
I brushed my lips just below her hairline before dropping a gentle kiss against her skin. “You’re okay. I’m here.”
We held each other steady, listening to our uneven breathing and rushing hearts and the ocean waves washing over the shore.
“I’m not sure,” she said, “I’m ever going to be able to let go of you.”
She was talking about the immediate future, but it was hard not to feel like it would be a lot longer than that. I tightened my hold. We’d gone through hell tonight and found each other.
“It’s all right,” I answered. “I’m not sure I’m ever going to let you go either.”
And I meant every word.
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Bonus Epilogue
I drummed my fingers on the tabletop, using the action to distract myself from my anxiety. I didn’t want to look down at my phone because the bar area of the restaurant was busy, and it was possible I’d miss Chelsea when she arrived.
That was something I did not want to miss.
We hadn’t seen each other in person since we’d said goodbye at the Edinburgh airport nearly a month ago. We’d talked every day since, though. We’d FaceTimed while she packed up her microscopic apartment in New York. Talked for hours as she drove west to her new, yet also old, place at her parents’ home in St. Charles. She was the first person I texted once I’d landed at O’Hare last week after flying in from Heathrow.
And sometimes, when one of us had trouble sleeping, we’d reach out, only to discover the other was struggling too. Our connection had grown incredibly strong and deep in such a short amount of time.
But I wasn’t just excited to see her again—I was nervous. Possibly the most nervous I’d ever been.
What if this thing we’d had in the dark shadows of Scotland wasn’t the same here under the bright lights of Chicago? Conversation had flowed easily, but this was different. It felt . . . monumental. Like if tonight didn’t go well, we’d be over before we really started.
Plus, Refiner had published my article about Void this morning. What was supposed to be a review had morphed into a larger piece after the tragic fire that had claimed three lives. It’d been the hardest thing I’d had to write—fiction I’d presented as fact—but I’d felt solid about it when I’d turned the piece in to my editor.