"Alaric, wait," I say, stepping toward him. "You're scaring me. Who is it? Who are we running from?"
"I don't know!" he roars, slamming his fist on the counter. "That's why we're running! I know everything, Elodie. I know every beat of your heart. I know every secret in this city. But I don't know who is in my house!"
He looks at me, his eyes pleading for understanding. "I can't lose you," he whispers. "I finally got the music right. I can't let them stop the music."
He looks so desperate. So broken. It doesn't look like the face of a man who pushed a girl down an elevator shaft. But psychopaths are good actors. Julian was a good actor. And Sterling... Sterling sounded reasonable.
"Okay," I say softly. "I'll pack."
I turn to the bedroom. As I walk away, I feel the paper burning against my skin inside my bra.Clara.
I am going to a secluded location. Off-grid. Alone. With a man who might be a serial killer. If I go, I might never come back. But if I stay... he might drug me. Or worse.
I enter the bedroom and grab a bag. I pack the riding clothes. The black dress. And I pack the riding crop. It’s not much of a weapon against a gun. But it’s something.
I hear Alaric in the other room, making a call. "Prepare the helicopter. Roof access. Five minutes."
Helicopter. We are flying out. There is no escape from a helicopter.
I look at the mirror. The girl staring back is pale. Terrified. But her eyes are calculating.Play the game,she whispers.Perform compliance.
I walk back out. Alaric is waiting. He has put on a leather jacket over his ruined shirt. He looks like an action hero. Or a villain. He holds out his hand.
"Ready?"
I look at his hand. The hand that played Rachmaninoff. The hand that marked me. The hand that might have killed Clara. I take it.
"Ready," I say.
He pulls me close and kisses my forehead. "Don't worry,petite," he murmurs. "Where we are going, there are no walls. Just us."
He leads me out of the suite. We walk down the corridor toward the roof access stairs. As we pass the nurses' station, I see Dr. Sterling. She is standing by a computer, typing. She looks up. Our eyes meet. She doesn't smile. She doesn't wave. She just taps her wrist.Time is running out.
Alaric doesn't see her. He is focused on the exit. He pushes the door to the stairs open. The wind from the roof howls down, carrying the sound of rotor blades.
We climb. Up toward the sky. Up toward the trap.
CHAPTER 13
THE GLASS HOUSE
POV: Elodie Fray
Location:Above the Clouds -> The Safe House (Undisclosed Location)
Track:Isolated System– Muse
Sensory:The deafening roar of rotors, the biting cold of high altitude air, the smell of snow and sterile glass.
Mood:Isolation & Suspicion.
The world disappears in a blur of grey mist and rotor wash.
I am strapped into the leather seat of the helicopter, a headset clamping my ears, drowning out the mechanical scream of the engine. Beside me, Alaric is a statue carved from tension. He is piloting the machine himself—of course he is. He doesn't trust a pilot. He doesn't trust anyone. His hands move over the controls with the same surgical precision he uses on the piano keys, on his patients, on me.
I look out the window. Hallowed Halls is gone. The city is gone. Below us, there is only an endless, undulating ocean of dark green pine trees, their tips dusted with white. We are flying North. Toward the mountains. Toward the nothingness.
“Where we are going, there are no walls.”
