Tides drown me.
Maybe I could sleep out here.
The sky rumbles, as if it’s laughing at me.
I bite my lip, then climb in after him.
Not because I want to be near him. I crawl in because the storm terrifies me. And because after everything, he’s the only safe place I have left.
Chapter Sixty-Eight
I’msuffocatinginsmokeand pine.
We’re packed into this tent like dried logs, waiting for a spark to set us aflame. Zev, with his tidesdamned massive, muscled body, dominates the space, while I’m huddled against the side, curled in on myself.
Raindrops batter the canvas, steadily growing louder. Faster. I suck in deep, shuddering breaths, preparing myself for what is to come.
Thunder booms, angry and unforgiving. I bite my lip to contain my whimper. The coppery tang of blood blooms on my tongue. Zev is a marble statue behind me—I don’t think he’s even drawing breath. The rain pelts down harder, harsh, angrytap,tap,taps, against the thin fabric of the tent. If I close my eyes, maybe the rhythmic noise will lull me to sleep before the thunder gets worse.
Father’s icy gaze, lightning flashing behind it.
My eyes snap open, a sharp gasp bursting from my lips.
Lightning illuminates the tent for a heartbeat. My hands tremble.
Tides, not here. Not now.
Not withhimto witness my weakness.
Another thunderclap rips across the sky, and I clamp my hands over my mouth to muffle my whimper.
I clench my eyes shut. As if that might protect me.
It’s dark except for the sliver of light beneath the door.
“Mama?” My small voice is thick with tears.
I squeeze my hands tightly, my wooden reindeer digging into my palms. A gift from my father.
Father.
Thunder, angry and incessant, shakes the heavens.
Yet the beat of my heart booms louder in my ears.
Lightning flashes again, its threat flaring behind closed lids.
The distant rumble of voices. Of shouting. One of them is Father.
A loud cry—then, silence. The metallic stench of death.
It was my father.
Father.
Rough hands yank me from the closet.
A strangled gasp tears from my throat.
