Chapter 35
Aurora
The guest suite is colder than I remember, the windows so clear that I feel as if I’m floating over the city. I rest my head on the chilled glass, staring down at the vein of streetlamps along the streets.
The world is so pretty from up here.
Safe.
My hands are shaking. Not trembling, not shivering, but shaking. Like the trauma has pooled in my wrists and is trying to vibrate me apart from the inside out.
I could run.
My bitter, dry laugh fogs the glass. Even if I could flee, I have nowhere to go. My old life is gone. My new life is here, on this floor, with the man who’s probably busy rebuilding his defenses so I never breach them again.
For a while, I almost believed we were bonding. That maybe he was starting to return the growing feelings inside me.
Dropping onto the bed, I draw my knees to my chest, hugging my shins to stop the twitching. The trembling doesn’t stop, not even when I tuck my chin and focus on my breathing. I’m not sure how long I sit here. Minutes pass, maybe an hour.
Eventually, my phone buzzes against my thigh.
My sister’s name flashes across the screen, and I swipe to answer.
“Hey.” The hoarse greeting emerges from my tight throat.
“Aurora! You sound like you just woke up.” Sam’s voice feels like walking outside into the perfect summer day. “It’s nearly midnight. Are you okay? Shit, did I wake you?”
“No. I’m awake. Long day.” I inject a little more life into my words. “Late shift. The usual.”
Guilt threatens to strangle me, but what else can I say?
I’m getting married, and you’re not invited because I’m worried about your safety? And my safety, too, because I’m this close to pulling a runner, and if I do, a scary mob boss will hunt me down and murder me?
Thankfully, she’s enough like me that my silence is just the opening she needs.
“Oh, that sucks. Wanna hear something funny to cheer you up? I got a ninety-three on my chem exam. You know, the class I’ve been taking over the summer. Ninety-three. My lab partner only got a sixty-seven. How dumb do you have to be, I mean?—”
Her familiar rambling washes over me, filling the cracks where fear used to live. At least for a while.
She chats about the upcoming semester’s classes, the boys in her dorm, and how her RA is a “fascist” because she wouldn’t let them play beer pong after curfew. As usual, she talks about food like she’s logging each meal and snack for the next time. She mentions her friend Willow, who’s acting “so dramatic lately” because Willow’s roommate might have COVID, and “literally all she does is cough and make tea.”
Sam rambles on for a while longer. Fifteen minutes at least.
I love it.
She’s safe. She has no idea what it’s like to be in danger.
When she finally pauses to breathe, I blurt out, “You’re okay, right?”
“Me?” Confusion laces the query. “Yeah. Why?”
Though I know she can’t see me, I shake my head. “I just…you know. Your summer class. Studying. It’s a lot. And…”
Sam laughs my worries away. “I’m good, sis. Promise. I’ll have a short break before the semester starts. Not dead yet.”
A violent chill shudders through me, and I nearly drop the phone. “Don’t say that.”
Another laugh rings out. “Jeez, okay. No dying for me. I’ll stay alive out of spite, just for you.”
