I peer into the second niche. It contains a small object.
It’s a torn ribbon of fabric.
Golden fabric, singed with ash and stained with blood.
The corner of my chemise.
What… what is that doing here?
41
Arabella
Morrie:Arabella, update me. Is everything okay? I can only keep the security system offline for another two minutes. And the sun is pretty high. You need to get out.
Celeste:I saw the lights go on in Gideon’s apartment. Are you okay? Update, please!
THE FABRIC FALLS THROUGH MY FINGERS. Even now, I remember the dress, the night, the way his body felt against mine, as if we were made for each other. I remember the bone-deep betrayal when I found my necklace gone and my theatre on fire. I remember tearing the fabric in rage and hurling it into the flames.
He said he thought I was dead.
He must have saved it from the flames.
All this time, he kept it.
What am I doing?
I don’t want this lie. I don’t want to be alone.
I wanthim.
I want the infuriating, beautiful man downstairs. I want him by myside, between my legs, in my arms. I want to fight huskers and killers and the Conclavewithhim.
I’ve done this all wrong.
Tears well in my eyes. The ice around my heart shatters, jagged pieces of my foolish pride stabbing through my ribs.
My phone beeps again. I don’t have to look at it to know it’s Morrie, giving me a one-minute warning.
Everything is ruined now.
And I can’t blame anyone but myself.
I stuff the hard drive and fabric down the front of my dress, turn on my heel, and leave Gideon’s apartment for the last time.
42
Gideon
Sinead:WHERE ARE YOU ANSWER ME NOW.
“WAKE UP, GIDEON, YOU ABSOLUTETOOL.”
Tiny hands shake me from dreamless slumber. My eyelids are glued together. I try to reach up to prise them open, but someone has glued my hands to my sides.
What’s going on?
Why can’t I move?
