I really hope I didn’t break the damn thing.
I press the spacebar to wake up the screen and gasp when I see the face staring back at me.
“Christian?” With a shaking hand, I reach out to the screen. I run my finger down the image, stroking his face.
There’s no mistaking it.
But how?
It doesn’t make sense.
I saw Fabian shoot him.
There was so much blood.
How could he have survived that?
My phone is in my hand and dialing a number I still haven’t forgotten, even after thirteen years.
I lift it to my ears, holding my breath as I listen to it ring.
“Hello?” The husky voice is sleep-laced, but I’d recognize it anywhere. “Who the fuck is this? Do you know what time it is?”
“Christian?” It’s practically a whisper. I’m surprised he even hears it.
“Yes. Who is this? What do you want?”
I lick my lips, my heart pounding so hard it feels like I can hear it. “It’s Mariana, Christian. It’s Mari.”
“I don’t know a fucking Mariana. You clearly have the wrong number, bitch. Thanks for waking me up. Maybe try calling at a normal fucking hour, yeah?”
Then the call disconnects, and all I can do is stare at my phone.
Christian is alive.
He doesn’t know who I am.
How is that possible?
The room grows dark and fuzzy around me, my breaths coming in pants.
What the hell is going on?
I gasp as a sob tears itself from my lips.
I don’t understand.
A keening cry fills the room as I gasp for breath, unable to suck enough air into my lungs while I cry.
What the hell did Fabian do?
My head spins, and I feel the darkness pressing in on me.
Rather than fight it, I welcome it with open arms.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Prescott
