We're moving through the lobby when I see her.
Gemma.
She's standing near the emergency entrance.
Our eyes meet.
And I know.
Before she says anything. Before she opens her mouth. I know.
She walks toward me. Her face is pale. Her eyes are red.
"Adrian—"
"Don't."
"Mom is dead." Her voice cracks. "You're Don now."
The words hit me like bullets.
Mom is dead.
You're Don now.
Everything stops.
The hospital. The noise. The chaos.
Everything.
CHAPTER 34
Sera
I wake to voices.
Everything hurts. My head is pounding. My body feels heavy, like someone filled my veins with lead. My stomach aches. The baby is moving, kicking frantically, and I want to comfort him, but I can't move my arms.
Can't move anything.
The drug. Whatever Gabe gave me, or rather, had me inject into myself, it didn't just knock me out, but also, made me feel like I'm trying to think through quicksand.
I try to open my eyes. They feel sticky and weighted, but I force them open as best I can, blinking against harsh fluorescent light.
Where am I?
The ceiling is familiar. Old tin panels. Water stains in the corners. I know this ceiling. The smell of leather, old paper, and ink invades my nostrils, and I feel my senses starting to fire up.
I turn my head slowly, ignoring the pain in my neck.
There are shelves and shelves of books. A worn wooden counter that holds an old till and paper receipts.
The bookstore.
I'm in the bookstore.
My bookstore. The one where I worked. Where I restored manuscripts and dreamed about curator positions and lived a life that feels like it belonged to someone else.
