That’s Lexi, and I hate the fear I hear in her voice.
Neither she nor Lark should be stressing out. It’s not good for the babies.
I glance over my shoulder, watching as Christian struggles to stay alive.
This time, tears don’t come.
Have I finally cried myself out?
A thought hits me, and I wonder if I’m being forced to relive this moment to grieve my loss finally.
But if Christian’s still alive, then should I be grieving?
What does him being alive mean for me?
I just don’t know.
My mind whirls in circles as I force myself to turn away from the scene again.
A deep, rumbling sound fills the air, completely blocking out the sounds of my memory.
I tilt my head to the side, eyes falling shut.
What is that sound?
It makes me feel warm and safe—comfortable.
The opposite of how I’ve felt rewatching my memories play out.
Scents cloy along the edge of my attention, something delicious and unfamiliar.
Black leather, warm suede, and cedarwood.
Cypress, amber, and smoked vanilla.
Burning embers, cotton candy, vanilla, and a hint of scorched sugar.
Citrus and oakmoss.
Home.
That’s what they smell like—home.
I take a step toward the office door, the sounds of my memories still covered by the rumbling sound.
For the first time, I don’t feel like I’m stuck in my memories. Like I can finally be free from the past.
I reach for the doorknob, and it turns easily under my hand. The door swings open and white light fills my sight.
I flinch away from it, squeezing my eyes shut as I wince.
“Luna!”
The deep, rumbling sounds cut off at Prescott’s panicked yell.
I blink my eyes open, wincing again at the light filling my vision.
“Too bright,” I murmur, my voice rough.
