Chapter 48

FORTY-EIGHT

AMETHYST

Xero leads me through a dimly lit utility room and points to a small hatch hidden behind a laundry basket. I crawl through the cramped space and emerge onto a patio, taking deep breaths of the cool night air.

It’s too early to celebrate. Delta, Dolly, and the surviving henchmen are still out there, throwing together a brand-new set to replace the one they had to abandon. Straightening, I stare into a moon-lit lawn that stretches out toward a thick of trees.

Xero crawls after me, his features etched in shadow, and his pale eyes never leave mine. When he stands, I turn my gaze across the darkened landscape, so he can help me scan the tree line for signs of movement.

“What next, little ghost?” he asks.

“We’ll walk around the house and see if there’s a driveway,” I whisper.

With a nod, he gestures for me to lead the way. We stick close to the building’s perimeter, trying to avoid the notice of cameras. Throughout this, Xero stares at me as if I’m the figment of his imagination.

“What?” I ask, shooting a glance over my shoulder.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like this is too easy. Like they’re using this escape attempt to shoot new B-roll footage.” At his silence, I add, “Like the bathtubs, the pessary, the feeding?”

He gives me a hesitant nod. Something is off about Xero. The version of him I hallucinated at the asylum often vanished under extreme stress, but he always returned looking exactly the same.

I glance at his black hoodie, dark jeans, and boots. “Where’s the tuxedo? And why is your hair wet?”

“You need to work that out for yourself,” he mutters.

Shaking off his cryptic answer, I continue around the house. Another thing that’s off about him is his inability to read my mind. Maybe it’s my brain trying to distract me from the horror of my situation… I don’t know. But what I do know are the consequences of wasting time. As we tiptoe around the corner of the house, I spot a long driveway leading into the distance toward a dimly lit gate.

All thoughts of Xero’s peculiarities vanish at the sign of an exit.

“Which way?” he asks.

“We keep to the dark side of the lawn, not stopping until I either climb or burrow my way to freedom. Once we’re out of here, I’m sure we can stick to the trees until I can hitch a ride back to town.”

He nods. “Let’s go.”

Gathering all my courage into a deep breath, I dash for the expanse of grass, making sure to stick to the shadows. Terror grips my throat, silencing the whimpers that try to break free. With Xero at my side, the pain from the cuts they made into my skin becomes more bearable.

Wind roars through my ears, drowning out my pulse’s rapid drumroll. Every distant rustle of leaves sends my heart climbing up my chest until it lodges in my throat. I don’t dare glance over my shoulder. My focus is on that gate.

Up ahead, two figures emerge from behind the trees, and my steps falter. One is tall and broad, the other petite.

“Why have you stopped?” Xero asks.

I point straight ahead. “It’s Dolly and Delta.”

He shakes his head. “The woman has straight black hair, and she looks familiar.”

When she waves, my heart skips a beat. “She almost looks like…”

“Camila?” Xero whispers.

“Wait—you think your people were looking for me? Because I…” The words stick in my throat. “They’re going to kill me for what I did to you.”

Xero shakes his head. “They won’t know unless you tell them. Don’t wait around, or Delta’s people will get to you.”

He’s right. My priority is getting away from those snuff-making psychopaths. Picking up my pace, I sprint toward the trees, my gaze fixed on Xero’s sister.

“Keep going,” he says, his warm hand pressing on the small of my back.

The heat from his palm seeps through the thick fabric of my robes, burning like a brand against my skin. The comfort is almost overwhelming, a stark contrast to the cold sterility of the infirmary. I steal a glance at Xero, who looks at me with an intensity that sets my nerves aflame.

My breath hitches. Whatever drugs they injected into me this time have heightened my senses, because he almost feels real.

“Amethyst?” Camila beckons me over.

“Camila?” I run, even though she might be a figment of my imagination. Because the next best thing to seeing Xero alive and well would be his ass-kicking sister and best friend.

“Come on,” she says, her voice breaking. “You can do it.”

Next to her, Jynxson gives me an encouraging nod. I want to know why they aren’t running to meet me halfway until I notice they’re on the other side of the gate.

“Keep going, little ghost,” Xero says, his voice choked with emotion.

Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them free. What if this is real? It’s the moment I’ve both been anticipating and dreading. Xero’s people will kill me for what I did, but they might make it painless if I lead them to Delta.

I continue running toward them, my steps plagued with a tumultuous mix of doubt and hope. Uncertainty gnaws at my resolve, threatening to trip me up. I stumble once, then again, but each time Xero’s hand remains on my back, his touch propelling me forward. His unwavering support fuels my determination, and I push through the fear, driven by the desperate need to reach the gate.

Glancing up for another glimpse of those pale blue eyes, my heart lurches. They’re so alive, so intense. Despite the physical impossibility of it all, the love and determination blazing through them feels heartbreakingly real.

My breath comes in shallow gasps. The tall iron gate is just ahead, and beyond it, Camila’s beautiful, smiling face.

“Nearly there,” she says. “Amethyst. Hurry.”

I pick up my pace, not stopping until I reach Camila’s outstretched fingers. She clutches my hands, pulling me against the bars into a hug.

Jynxson keeps his distance, but his presence is just as comforting. Xero stands so close that his body heat radiates into my skin, wrapping me in a cocoon of reassurance. His unwavering presence is a constant reminder that I am not alone. Every breath he takes, every subtle movement, fills my spirit with a profound sense of safety and peace.

“You’re real,” I say, my voice choking with a sob.

She stares back, her eyes misting with tears. “Can you climb over?”

I glance up the length of the gate, finding no curls or crossbars or convenient footholds. Releasing Camila’s hands, I reach up and grab the bars. They’re too smooth, too straight, and I don’t have the upper body strength to haul myself up.

When I lift a foot to scale, my slippers find little purchase. It’s even worse than crawling out of an open grave.

Jynxson steps forward, but Camila elbows him in the gut and flicks her head to a point behind my shoulder. The gesture is so exaggerated that I’m forced to turn around, and I meet Xero’s unwavering gaze.

His hand lands on my shoulder, warm and strong and solid. As his fingers tighten with gentle reassurance, the rusty gears in my mind start turning, bringing me closer to a dawning realization.

My gaze darts to the side to find Jynxson and Camila both staring at what’s standing at my back. Hope flickers in my chest, igniting a spark of possibility. I turn again, my breath catching in my throat, heart hammering hard enough to crack my ribs. My eyes widen with disbelief, and the world narrows to a single figure.

It’s Xero, standing tall and majestic.

Moonlight filters through his platinum hair, casting a soft glow over his chiseled features. His high cheekbones and strong jawline are thrown into sharp relief, while his eyes, illuminated in the pale light, seem to burn with blue flames. The sight of him, almost otherworldly in the night, jolts me back to razor-sharp awareness.

If they can see him, that means…

“Xero?” My voice is a fragile whisper.

He nods, his eyes filled with a gentle sadness. “It’s me, little ghost.”

My eyes well up with tears. “But… You’re dead. I saw you. I saw the fire.”

Xero takes my hands, his grip firm and reassuring, grounding me to this newfound reality. “I survived,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “And I haven’t stopped trying to get you back.”

I shake my head, loosening tears that stream down my cheeks. “No… How? Don’t you want me dead?”

His gaze softens, and he brushes away the tears with a tenderness that breaks me further. “I saw that video. They wanted to break you, but you survived.”

My sobs intensify, my body wracked with pain and guilt. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

He pulls me into his arms, holding me in a hug so tight that I could melt into his strong chest. “It’s not your fault,” he murmurs into my curls, his breath warm and comforting against my scalp. “You were manipulated, mentally tortured for longer than you even realize. But you’re free now. We’re free.”

The words only make me sob harder. All the pent-up emotions rise from the pit of my stomach like a tsunami, threatening to consume what’s left of my mind. I cling onto Xero’s waist like he’s the only lifeline in this tidal wave of self-recrimination and regret.

He strokes my hair, sending tingles across my scalp. “You’re the strongest person I know. And now, we have a second chance. We can heal together.”

A second chance? That’s far too generous. As he holds me tight, murmuring words of reassurance, doubt gnaws at my spirit. Despite this, his words sink into my heart, replacing the fear with a tentative hope. Gratitude swells in my chest, so overwhelming that it might burst.

“How did you find me?” I ask.

“That asshole priest gave us a lead,” he replies.

“That was you on the bus?”

He nods.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “Oh, no.”

“What is it?” he asks.

“I’m sorry for attacking you.”

He chuckles. “You fought like a little banshee.”

“Thank you,” I murmur into his chest. “Thank you for never giving up on me.”

“I promised you once that we would always be together. Until the end of time,” he says, his voice thick. “And everyone who hurt you will die slowly.”

Maybe I’m running on the last vestiges of my sanity, but why on earth did that feel so ominous?