But it didn’t last long.
Another scream echoed, and it was coming from the tunnel.
“What was that?” Adora asked.
I faced her, seeing her brows bunched together.
I lowered her until both of her feet were safely back on the sand. “I have to go,” I explained, my thumb grazing her cheekbone. “Why are you sleeping? You are supposed to meet me soon.”
She shook her head with a smile. “What are you talking about?”
Perhaps here, in her dream, we didn’t have to sneak around.
I leaned in and tucked her hair behind her ear.
“Wake up, my darling,” I whispered, brushing my knuckles across her cheek. I swallowed, remembering what it felt like to see her with another man, and the ache hit me in the chest all over again. “I have to see you, so I need you to wake up.”
And then she was fading in my arms, taking the entire island with her until I was standing in utter darkness.
The scream came again. The tunnel began to shrink, closing up.
I sprinted to it, every step feeling like I was trudging through deep sand.
Just before the tunnel closed up, I dove inside, rolled across a floor, and crashed into a hard surface.
My eyes opened to a dimly lit room. I lifted myself up off a scratchy maroon rug—the thing that had softened the blow.
The walls were wood paneling, and atop the rug sat a single lantern, the only other thing in the room. I stepped closer, watching as the flame flickered inside. It moved in such an odd way. While the light should have lit the room almost evenly, it didn’t. Light only shone in one direction. Like a lighthouse beam.
My gaze followed the light until it landed on a wooden door.
On the other side, another scream bellowed.
I wasted no time barging through the door, running up the flight of stairs, and down a hall, following the sound. Until I halted in front of another door.
I inhaled, curling my fingers around the knob, then twisted the handle, opening the door. There was a woman standing in the corner of the room, hands clenched at her sides, brown hair under a baseball cap. Though I couldn’t see her face, I recognized the holes in the jeans. “Chloe?” I stepped closer. “No, it’s Cleo, yes?”
“Wake up, wake up, wake up, wake up,” she chanted in a low murmur, pressing her entire body into the corner of the room as though it would wrap its arms around her.
I walked toward her. “Cleo,” I repeated, laying my hand on her shoulder and turning her around.
Cleo’s eyes were big and glossy under the lid of her hat. She clawed at my arms, yanking me closer and pressing her spine into the corner, her body shaking. Her fingers clutched on to me so tightly that her nails broke my skin. I’d never seen anyone this terrified.
I pulled her close. “What are you so afraid of?”
“She’s trying to kill me,” she whispered. “And now that you’re here, she’ll kill you, too.”
I turned, seeing the room empty.
Not a bed or a window.
Not even our own shadows.
I held Cleo back at arm’s length, bending down to meet her gaze. “Cleo, I don’t see anything,” I said, frustrated and squeezing her shoulders. She seemed so small in my hands, and I felt as though I may break her. “There’s nothing there.”
Cleo froze up, her eyes wide. “Sh-sh-she’s right behind you.”
I turned back again, this time catching someone standing in an open doorway that wasn’t there before. Their back was to me, but I could tell it was a woman. Her hair was dark blonde, sopping wet and clinging to her skin. She wore a dress torn around her thighs, and water dripped from every edge into a puddle at her feet. She was shaking, but I couldn’t tell if it was because she was angry or cold.
