Each day, Calla and her fragile heart are that little bit closer to death... but before she goes she'll prove to the world the boy she loves is no murderer.
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With a life steeped in wealth and privilege, Calla Pierce should be protected from t...
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I know you killed Damien. And I know where you've hidden the knife.
My fingers shake as I type. I rewrite the message over and over. Doubt creeps in, not my certainty of knowing who killed Damien, but into a plan that feels as flimsy as a whisper on the wind. Owen is breathing heavily beside me, fogging up the glass, turning the blackened street outside ghostly. The streetlights flicker as if they know what's happening. I know Owen feels the same. I can see it in the way he's gripping the steering wheel so tight his knuckles are bone-white, even though we parked up nearly ten minutes before. He hasn't moved, hasn't let his grip drop, he just watches me intently. His face is grim.
Finally, I hit send. It takes only a few seconds to see it's been read.
And now we wait.
We sit in silence, letting the minutes tick by painfully. Owen finally sinks back into his seat, exhaling loudly. I squirm uncomfortably in Taggart's car as we sit in the darkness. Shadows line Owen's haunted face. My chest is tight, and I'm desperately trying to hide how bad I feel. But I can see from the glint in his eye that I'm failing.
"Calla..."
"Don't... I'll be fine. I'm fine."
He groans and leans his head back before peering at me again.
"If anything were to happen to you... if anything else were to happen to you... I couldn't live with it."
I lean closer, my hands gripping onto his coat. The zip digs into my palm. When I speak, I'm not sure if my words are for him or myself. I press against his chest, and he sighs. His warmth eases the ache in my bones.
"I'll be OK. This is nearly over. I can feel it." He kisses the top of my head and then gently moves me away from him, looking me in the eye.
"What if this doesn't work?"
"It's going to work." He raises an eyebrow but doesn't argue. Instead, he runs his fingers through his hair, tugging roughly on the strands.
"What if they've hidden it in the house? What if she's destroying it as we speak?" I shake my head.
"People come in and out of there all the time. She wouldn't have risked hiding it there. And she wouldn't have mentioned it to Leon if it was somewhere that obvious."
"Are you sure it's her? Are you sure Larissa killed her stepbrother?"
I turn to him. I expect to see doubt, but see nothing like it in his eyes. The trust is there, and it's complete. I nod, taking his hand.
"She did this. She did all of it."
"Then she's dangerous. Let me finish this."
"No, I'm seeing this through."
He starts to argue, but I shush him when I see light peeking through the fences and dark trees of the Steele estate. I can't see any more than that, but I can hear the roar of an engine. I inhale sharply, and Owen's hands grip the steering wheel once more. The gate shrieks as it opens, each inch feels like it takes an hour, but finally, we glimpse the treelined driveway and a dark blue car pulling out.
