He’s alive.
It’s a miracle.
I’d never had such words affect me. Never had a voice slammed into my heart, tore it out, restarted it, and dumped me into a hope so cruel, I didn’t want to breathe in case I unbalanced this perilous new world and found out Jethro wasn’t alive after all.
I wanted to cry. To scream. To laugh.
He’s alive!
I ran faster as Jasmine shot forward.
I’d never been friends with someone with a disability. I liked to think I was open-minded and treated everyone the same way—but society still had a stigma about equality.
Jasmine shattered every misconception I had.
I thought I’d have to dawdle beside her. Wrong—I had to jog to keep up.
I thought I’d have to open doors and offer assistance around tight corners. Nope—Jaz manoeuvred her chair, doorway, and lock faster than I ever could.
She was fierce and strong, and even though she sat below my eye level, her personality consumed mine.
I was in her shadow.
He’s alive.
But how?
She hadn’t given me answers. The moment she’d told me Jethro hadn’t died, I’d emptied the dresser, shoved it out of the way, and followed her with no other encouragement.
Was it a trap? A cruel joke?
Entirely possible, but I couldn’t ignore the chance of saving Jethro. I had to break this heartache before it broke me.
Finally listening to Jasmine gave me new comprehension. I stopped listening with my ears and trusted with my heart. I noticed things that’d been soobvious, but I’d been so blinded. She adored her brothers. She was shattered with their pain. Yet, instead of hating me...she was...she’s trying to save me.
Could that be possible?
Could everything that’d happened—the fighting for ownership and contract amendments all be for him?
Had he asked her to do that?
To protect me.
“You weren’t going to hurt me...were you?” I whispered, darting down yet another labyrinth of corridors. No lights lit our way, and the security cameras above didn’t blink. No red beacon hinted that our midnight run was recorded and ready to tattle.
I didn’t know how she turned them off. I didn’t know how she knew Jethro was alive. I didn’t know anything.
I’m blind.
“About bloody time,” she muttered, wheeling forward like a tank. “Thought you were supposed to be intelligent.”
Tapestries hung silent and repressive. Paintings of dead monarchs sniffed with disdain as we scurried silently like tiny mice. The awful feeling of being swept away with no control fisted around my heart. I wanted to ask so many questions, but something held me back.
He’s alive.
And I wanted him to stay that way.
“How was I supposed to know? You were so—”
