It’ll probably be one of the last nights I’m in a bed this comfortable, but I don’t sleep well at all. I have an event scheduled this evening, which gives me time to get my thoughts straight.
After a quick breakfast, I leave the kitten with an unimpressed Jamil then join the awaiting security team in the basement for a ride over to my apartment. I’m beginning to think I need to do more than clean out the fridge. I should probably straighten up for my inevitable trip home.
I don’t know why the idea depresses me so much. I barely register our route to the apartment building, not forcing myself out of my stupor until I see the media waiting in front of my building. I have a feeling they’ve never left, staking out the one place they figure I’ll come back to, if not to grab stuff from my apartment then to see my parents.
With a deep breath, I straighten my sweater and prepare for a quick walk through the press on my way to my apartment. I don’t feel like smiling today, but I know I need to.
The moment the door opens, the flashes and questions start. A gust of wind makes my short curls fly around my head. I love the feeling and grin big, swiping my hair out of my eyes with one hand and stepping forward to join the security team.
One of them takes my arm, not allowing me any time at all to stop for a picture. We reach the lobby, and the doors close behind me. One of them stays in the lobby while another accompanies me to the fourth floor, where my apartment is.
“Oh, god.” Alisha is right; I can smell my apartment before I reach the doorway. I glance at the security guy and mumble an apology. “Sorry. I left something in the fridge I shouldn’t have.”
He doesn’t seem to care and opens the door. After a quick once through, he leaves me to my apartment.
It’s so tiny and messy, compared to where I’ve been living. I stand in the quiet living room, noticing for the first time how musty it is and how the light from the windows doesn’t reach half the corners. I never thought it was depressing or dark before.
As much as I hate admitting it, I love Elijah’s new apartment. There’s so much light and warmth and homeliness to it …
“No use thinking like that, Natty,” I murmur. Nose wrinkling, I deposit my purse on the dining table then enter the kitchen and wrench open the door to the fridge.
There’s an entire turkey in the middle of the top shelf, as if I’d taken it from the freezer to thaw it out then forgotten about it.
Except I didn’t. There’s no way I’d buy a Thanksgiving-sized turkey to feed just me.
I stare at it, uncertain how a turkey that size got in my fridge. It’s definitely been there for a while. It absolutely reeks, and there’s a puddle of god-knows-what on the shelf that’s dripped to the other shelves.
“So gross.” Irritated, I grab a trash bag from under the kitchen sink and open it, pausing to figure out the best way to remove the beast. Finally, I drape the bag over it and pick it up in one movement. “Gross, gross, gross!” I’m so disgusted by the smell, I almost drop it.
I double wrap it then set it on the ground, ready to tackle the horrible smelling goo left over in the fridge. My gaze settles on a small baggy in the center of the shelf. It was hidden beneath the turkey.
My name is written on the paper inside the baggy in Alisha’s overly curly, girly handwriting.
I know for a fact I didn’t do that. I grab it with a paper towel and hold it over the sink, opening the stinking bag and carefully reaching into it to grab the contents. Inside is a letter and a bulky envelope.
Dumping the baggy in another trash bag, I wash my hands then pick up the letter.
Hey-
Sorry for the smoke and mirrors and stinky turkeys. Something weird is going on. I think I found out what, but that bastard George hacked me and ... anyway. I’ll deal with him later. They DO NOT want this secret found out. You were so right about there being something going on. I’m only doing this to protect you, Natty.
PLEASE - You need to go to the address in the envelope like now. There’s a wig in the veggie drawer and disposable cell phone under the sink in the box with the trash bags. Use that to call me when you get to Ohio and TELL ME IF I’M RIGHT. But only when you get to Ohio then throw it away. I’m so fucking good, I know I am, but then I can tell George he’s FULL OF SHIT.
Love you!
Alisha
“You are insane, Alisha.” I read the note again. I’m not surprised she’s got some sort of conspiracy theory, but I am surprised she went to this trouble to get this information to me.
I’m also disturbed that Elijah’s head of security is actively trying to suppress whatever Alisha found. I mean, George wouldn’t act without Elijah’s direction. Elijah was doing more than vetting my friends and me; he was doing some really fascist shit.
I retrieve the cell phone first. Opening the envelope, I take out a new driver’s license with my pic. I laugh. She’s given me blonde hair in the fake ID.
I go to the fridge again and open the veggie drawer to find a blonde wig there.
“What on earth, Alisha?” Tossing it on the counter next to the phone, I return to the envelope. She’s stuffed cash, a solitary key to a car with the description taped to its tag, a map she printed off of Google with the words LEAVE NO ELECTRONIC FOOTPRINT scrawled across the top, and an address on a sticky note.
Kallista King again. The words she’s written under the name jump out at me.
He’s got a wife in Ohio. Or a daughter. Someone he’s hiding.
“What?” I re-read it. My heart flips, and I’m not sure why I’m hoping it’s a daughter.
Elijah is getting ready to dump me, and I’m actually upset about it.
I shouldn’t be. I should be thanking Alisha for the information and giving me another reason to stay strong and walk away.
“Wife,” I say through gritted teeth. “It’s gotta be.” My heart drops a second time, and I can’t help thinking I really will be devastated if this is the case.
Shaking my head, I lean against the counter to think this through. Alisha wants me to go on some wild goose chase, to drive eight hours to some stranger’s house, and tell her if the person there is Elijah’s wife or daughter.
It’s crazy. Absolutely mad. My relationship with Elijah is going to be over soon. So … why should I bother?
I read her note again.
They DO NOT want this secret found out.
And then I remember what I originally asked her for. Insurance. Leverage. Something I can use to make sure Elijah follows through with his promise to spare Tenley block.
I straighten. “My god. You really did it, Alisha.” She found something not even the press knows about. Intrigued, I begin to understand why I do need to go there and find out what this secret is.
Because, when this all ends in a few days and I’m out of the picture, Elijah can very easily decide the money is more important than a promise he made to an ex-fiancée.
Do I trust him enough to let this opportunity pass me up?
Chewing my lip, I review everything I know about him, thoughts lingering on why I’m about to be exiting his life in the first place. Because he was choosing his throne over something more meaningful.
He was taking the easy way out.
“Shit.” No matter what I feel for him, no matter how much I want to believe in that good part of him I’ve seen, the simple answer is that I can’t place the fate of my family and friends in the hands of a man who values money and prestige over everything else.
Especially once I’m out of the picture.
I definitely trust Alisha’s intentions more than Elijah, even if what she’s asking me to do sounds crazy.
I pick up the key and squint to read the directions she’s squeezed onto the round key tag.
Black Taurus in my parking spot. Clothes and snacks in trunk.
“My Alisha,” I murmur with a smile. “Always prepared for everything.” I can’t believe I’m thinking about straight out leaving.
My pulse quickens at the idea of this crazy adventure, and my mind races. After a brief hesitation, I text the security guys.
Going to visit parents and some friends. Will be a few hours.
Then I shove everything into my purse. The response from the security team is quick.
We’ll be in lobby. Call if you need anything.
I read Alisha’s note once more. This isn’t the first time she’s helped me disappear, and I review the precautions she had me take last time. I did it successfully, disappearing from my apartment one day and returning three months later.
To avoid an electronic signature, that means no going online. At all. No cell phone but the one she gave me, no portable GPS or any sort of electronics, and wearing the wig and probably sunglasses so I can slide by cameras on the street and tollbooths. With a new ID and cash, I can pay for fuel all the way to Ohio and find a cheap, ratty motel outside of Dayton to crash in.
My paranoid friend has taught me well.
All I have to do is disappear, check it out and come back tomorrow. It’ll probably freak people like Elijah’s security team out, but I need to do what will protect those I care about.
I need to know his secret.
I set down the phone he got me on the counter and gaze at it. I’m aching inside from the idea of destroying what remains of the good part of him I’ve seen. It makes me a little sick to know what I’m doing and how much worse my relationship with Elijah might get, if he finds out.
Actually, it makes me completely nauseated. Placing a hand over my mouth, I stand perfectly still, willing the sensation to pass. I shouldn’t feel this way about him. He’s been kind to me in his own way, but I don’t know if it’ll stick, if he’ll follow through with his promises of his own free will.
He will. He does care. This voice is the most troublesome. There’s an angry part of me that doesn’t want to believe in him, that’s still furious that he’s taken over my life.
The sense that I need to vomit isn’t leaving. I hurry around the counter and race down the hallway to the bathroom. Tossing up the toilet seat, I drop to my knees and throw up the breakfast Jamil so carefully prepared for me.
I heave for a few minutes, the acrid smell and taste disgusting me. When the convulsing in my stomach ceases, I sag back against the wall and wait another minute before standing and wetting a washcloth.
It’s not like me to throw up out of emotion. I still feel queasy and lean over the sink, waiting to see what my stomach decides to do. It’s not twisting but it’s not fully stable yet, either.
I’ve got to have some sort of bug. There’s no other explanation. I feel perfectly fine otherwise. No fever or flushed features or anything.
I clean up and brush my teeth then leave the bathroom. My stomach is not happy, and I wonder if Jamil used some spice that didn’t sit well with me. When I return to the kitchen, there’s a text waiting.
We need to talk in person. It’s from the mystery texter.
I stare at it. There’s no way I’m going to meet with the psycho following me. I don’t even open the text, not wanting him to think I’ve read it. Instead, I pull out the map.
Eight hours one way. There’s a lot of stuff that can happen over that time period, even more over two days. I’m constantly hounded by press. What if I’m discovered? What if Elijah calls in the police and everyone else the moment the security team realizes I’m gone?
Considering the map, I start to think a better idea is to keep this information in my back pocket and use it later, if I need to. I’m not sure why Alisha’s note insists I go now.
I pull it out, torn. I trust her more than anyone, so I shouldn’t be questioning her instructions. And yet, it won’t be that easy to disappear this time. I’m a celebrity now, deserving or no, and celebrities can’t just disappear without people noticing.
What makes this secret time sensitive? The fact that George knows she figured it out? I have no doubt Elijah can probably make whoever this is go away quickly, which means, if I don’t have some proof this Kallista exists ...
“God, Alisha. Why did you have to pick now to do this?” She isn’t the source of my frustration. I know this, but I’m standing in my kitchen stressing out over a mysterious note she left me and feeling like I need to throw up again.
Wife or daughter. He’d said an illegitimate heir would keep him off the throne, but a wife? Didn’t his father want him to have a wife? What need would he have to hide a wife?
Something isn’t fitting right in this picture. I don’t know enough to know what, and I don’t know what to do.
Stay or go.
Trust or leverage.
I head to the bathroom, swept away by the urge to throw up again. I’ve already lost the contents of my stomach and end up dry heaving until my head hurts. Tears squeeze from my eyes. After I’ve cleaned up once again, I sit down at the kitchen table with water and crackers, nibbling on them while waiting for my painkillers to start working.
Feeling terrible, I start to think there’s no way I’m going to drive anywhere when I’m sick. I rest my head on the table, not wanting to move.
A knock at my door startles me. I lift my head and stare at it, judging the stability of my stomach, then rise and answer it.
My mother is in the hallway. Surprised but happy to see her after our terse text exchanges, I open the door and let her in.
“Hey, Mom.”
She enters, and we stand in awkward quiet for a moment.
“Alisha wasn’t joking about the meat,” she says. “I could’ve taken care of it, but she insisted you do it.”
“You know how Alisha is,” I reply.
“You okay, baby?” Mom is studying me, probably trying to figure out why I’ve been crying.
“Yeah. Come in.” I return to the table. Standing up makes me nauseated again, and I sink into my chair.
Mom takes in the crackers and water but doesn’t press. She looks more tired than I’ve seen before, the strain of my father’s deteriorating health in her features.
“So, how’s life?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light. “Dad doing okay?”
“He will be, yes.” A faint smile crosses my mother’s face. “I despise the man you plan on marrying, but I have to admit – his money will help.”
“He can come across as very …” I seek the right word for Elijah. “Self-absorbed maybe. But he did it to help.” Mostly.
“Is there a better person behind the self-absorbed one?” she asks. My mother is nothing if not blunt.
“Unfortunately, I think so,” I reply with some regret. “Buried deep but present all the same.”
“Things aren’t going well.”
“I can’t talk about it, mom.”
“He make you sign some sort of non-disclosure thing?”
“We’re dealing with stuff, and I have a headache.”
She purses her lips. I know she doesn’t want to drop it, but I’m almost ready for another trip to the bathroom and am not feeling very tolerant.
“I want you to be happy, baby,” she says again. “Whatever form that takes. Even if that means he won’t let you see us much anymore.”
“It’s not him, Mom.” I sigh. “I am trying to keep my life with him separate from you guys. You don’t want to be surrounded by the press all day and night. I want to protect you, especially since Dad is so sick.”
“We don’t need protecting.”
Did I mention my mother is also stubborn? My stomach starts to lurch, and I stand and hurry to the restroom.
Another bout of dry heaving, and I’m about to give up on leaving my apartment, let alone driving to Ohio.
“Baby, you okay?”
I’d protest my mom pushing the door open but don’t feel like it.
“Oh, Natty, what’s wrong?” She immediately wets a washcloth and carefully maneuvers her way to kneel. The cold cloth feels heavenly at the back of my neck. I rest my head against the wall and close my eyes, grateful my mom is there.
She wipes another cold cloth across my face.
“My head is killing me,” I mumble.
“How long you been sick?”
“Just kinda hit today. Felt a little queasy the past couple of days,” I respond. “Must be coming down with something.”
“Could be.” She climbs to her feet with effort and sets down one of the cloths. “Baby, you’re not pregnant are you?”
I laugh. “No, mom.”
“This is how it starts sometimes. You’re not late?”
I don’t think I’ve ever talked about sex or private matters like this with my mother. Our focus has always been on my father’s health issues, and I learned about sex in school.
“Not that I know of,” I reply and push myself up. “I should be starting today.”
“But you haven’t.”
“Omigod, mom. You and Alisha and your conspiracy theories. I’ve been really careful.”
“Maybe you should take a test to rule it out.” She bends over and begins digging around the total disaster that exists under the sink.
“I don’t need to. I’ll drop by the clinic on the way home.”
“They’ll do the same, and you don’t want the press to find out you took a test do you?”
I open my mouth to object but realize she’s kind of right. If my identity leaked after one night in Elijah’s penthouse, then there’s a good chance what I’m doing at a medical center will, too. There are more people who will have access to my file and me.
“Fine. I’ll take the test, then I’ll go to the doctor’s,” I say.
“All right, baby.” My mom fishes a test out.
“How do you know I have those?” I ask, face hot.
“You’re a single girl. I never assume the worst about my daughter, but you’re a grown woman with a good head on her shoulders. I’m glad to see you learned to take certain precautions.”
She’s right, of course. I have condoms and pregnancy tests, supplies I’m pretty sure every single woman has somewhere in her house. I also know my mother was only ever with my father, which makes me more embarrassed seeing her pull out condoms and a three pack of pregnancy tests.
She says nothing about either but replaces the condoms and sets the tests on the counter.
“Thanks, mom.” I feel like I’m thirteen again. I can’t even meet her gaze.
“I’ll make you some tea,” she tells me and leaves the bathroom.
My god. I can’t recall the last time I was this embarrassed. Even being naked with Elijah the first time, I didn’t feel this ashamed.
I’m only doing this to make Mom happy. I did have unprotected sex with Elijah for the first whole week, but he seemed to think it was okay, claiming it was close enough to the end of my previous period. I’ve been on birth control a solid three weeks since, so I don’t think it’s at all possible that I’m pregnant.
With a sigh, I unwrap the first test.
Less than a minute later, I’m unwrapping a second.
Five minutes later, I’m trying a third.
I toss all three and sit on top of the closed toilet.
Holy fuck. I can’t think, can’t even breathe. Suddenly, I look at the trip to Ohio in an entirely new light.
I need as much leverage as I can get, because I have a feeling if Elijah ever finds out about this, he’ll never let me go and never stop looking for me if I do manage to disappear.
Feeling sick for a different reason, I straighten my clothing and brace myself to leave the bathroom.
“You okay, baby?” Mom calls as soon as she hears the door open.
“Yep. Took it three times. All negative,” I lie.
“Well good. I didn’t want to tell you this before knowing, but I really think you deserve better.” She returns from the kitchen to the dining table with two cups of steaming tea and looks at me with a smile. “I don’t care how rich he is, a man like that will never deserve my baby and has no place being a father.”
I flinch, because Elijah says the same about himself.
Mom is gazing at me. “It wasn’t negative, was it?”
Shit. “Let’s just drop it for now,” I say calmly. “Mom, there’s somewhere I need to go.”
She stares at me, and I have a feeling she’s trying to figure out whether she can ditch her hard core stance on abortion when it comes to a man she clearly despises.
“Not …” I clear my throat. “Not to deal with this.” I can’t even say it, because right now, my emotions are reeling. I need to sit down and sob myself into oblivion. “But it’s important.”
For the first time since I can remember, she doesn’t seem to know what to say.
“Sorry.” I stride into the kitchen and grab my purse then the disposable cell phone. “I’ll be back in a couple of days and will explain everything.”
“Okay, Natty,” she manages. “If you need anything, call me.”
“Thanks. I’ll drop this in the garbage room.” I grab the turkey trash bag.
I leave, wired with energy and emotions I can’t remotely begin to decipher. Instead, I go to the trash and recycling closet, a broom closet sized room with four chutes leading to different bins in the basement of the apartment building. Three are for recycling – labeled paper, plastic, cans – while the fourth is strictly for trash.
Tossing the bag down the chute, I tug the wig out of my purse and put it on quickly, tucking my brown curls beneath it, then peel off the sweater I’m wearing to reveal the t-shirt beneath. I stuff the sweater in my purse, pull out sunglasses and the key Alisha left me, and leave the closet.
There are two stairwells in the ancient building: one to the lobby and one to the garage. I hurry down to the garage. Each step brings more emotion, and by the time I reach the underground parking area, I’m in tears.
I can’t do this. I sag against the wall, unable to comprehend the idea of being pregnant. Especially now. With him. Breathe and think, Natty.
I can’t afford a breakdown now. I need to stay focused in order to concentrate on driving. After all, pretty much my whole life is about to rely on my ability to reach Ohio in time to discover my leverage.
I hurry to the side of the garage where residents park, already knowing Alisha’s assigned number.
Despite her warning about not calling her until I get to Ohio, I really, really need my best friend right now. Dialing her number, I slow my step.
“Hey.” I hear the voice from somewhere behind me, but Alisha’s warm greeting soon absorbs all my attention.
“Natty! Are you there?” she nearly squeals.
“N…no,” I manage. “Not in Ohio.”
“Omigod. You never could follow instructions!” she sighs. “You can’t use this phone again, Natty, you know that! What am I –”
“Alisha!” I almost yell. “Hush for a minute!”
She falls silent.
I can’t talk. I’m starting to cry.
“Are you okay?” she whispers. “Did Elijah do something bad?”
“No. I’m just … I need my best friend right now.”
I reach the car she’s left for me and lean against it, trembling. I can’t speak.
“What’s wrong?” she ventures.
Swallowing hard, I wipe my nose on my hand. “Oh, just the worst thing ever.”
“You and I have very different perceptions of what that could be. I’m thinking apocalypse. Probably not what you’re thinking.”
I give a messy, sobbing laugh. “I love you, Alisha. I’ve m….missed you.”
“Ditto, kiddo,” she says, quoting my father. “So not the apocalypse and you’re still in New York, though Elijah is traveling.”
I nod, even knowing she can’t hear me.
“You obviously found the note and everything. Are you going to Ohio?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” There’s a smug note in her voice that makes me think it’s got something to do with George, though why she’s out to get Elijah’s head of security, I have no idea. “You gonna tell me what’s wrong, or do I get to keep making shit up?”
“No. Can’t yet,” I say. “Let’s just say, I need all the leverage I can get.”
“Ohhh, a puzzle!” she exclaims. “I have to tell you that right now, I’ve been shut down. I’m working on repairing everything, but that idiot did a number on my systems. I’ll need a second job to repair this shit.”
I smile and close my eyes, loving the sound of her voice. She’s been my crazy best friend for as long as I can remember, and I’ve really needed her the past few weeks.
“Once I can, I’ll figure out your secret and his!” she finishes gleefully.
“You want my credit card number?” I ask.
“No! I’ll never take your money.”
“It’s Elijah’s.”
There’s a pause, then, “Gimme.”
I giggle and pull out the black AmEx. It’s in my wallet, next to the gift card he gave me. My giddy moment flees. I finger the Starbucks card and feel something new: despair.
There was a moment when I really thought we had a chance.
“Ready,” Alisha interrupts my painful thoughts.
I blink away more tears. Reading her the numbers and expiration date, I hear her sigh.
“It’s only fair, right? I mean, his people destroyed my stuff. He should buy me new stuff.”
“I agree,” I reply with a smile. “Though I have a feeling they’ll probably know who used it and may come find you.”
“I can fix that,” she says confidently. “You’re not going to give me a hint as to what’s wrong?”
I hesitate. I know of all the people in my life, I can trust her with anything. But I’m also terrified of what someone like her and my mother will say in response to my news. Afraid their opinions are going to wipe me out mentally, when I’m struggling to stay on my feet.
“You may be an aunt soon,” I reply at last.
Silence.
“Just … keep it quiet and don’t tell me to head to the women’s clinic because you hate Elijah,” I add quickly. “I need to get my head straight before I figure out what to do.”
Silence.
“You there?” I ask curiously.
“You just blew my mind.”
“That’s about how I feel.”
I can almost hear her mind working. I haven’t even asked for assistance, but she’s already calculating how to help.
“So I’m gonna do a cash advance off the card to create a slush fund,” she says. “This is gonna be hard. That bastard George is really good.”
“Not better than you,” I say.
“Well …”
“Are you serious?” I demand. “I’ve never heard you doubt yourself like that!”
“Oh, I don’t doubt. I have a feeling I’ll be the first person he comes to find, once you disappear. So I need to disappear with you.” She pauses. “You know what? I’ll figure it out while you’re driving to Ohio. Call me when you get there, okay?”
“Yeah. I can do that.” I smile to myself, feeling a little better after telling Alisha. “I’m so happy to talk to you, Alisha.”
“Yeah, me, too,” she admits. “Drive carefully. You need to chuck this phone before you leave the garage. You remember how you bought disposables before?”
“Yeah.”
“Do that when you get to Ohio.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“You, too!”
I hang up. With a deep breath, I start to think things won’t be that bad at all, now that I’ve got Alisha at my side again. Pushing away from the car, I hurry across to the gaping garbage can and toss the phone in. It’s a little scary to be without any sort of technology, especially a phone, but also very freeing.
“Natalie.” The voice again. This time, it registers as being familiar.
I turn and freeze.
It’s the mystery texter, the man who confronted me during the meetings with the designers. He’s well dressed and calm, his gaze too assessing to be friendly.
“What do you want?” I ask. I jam my hand into my pocket to grab the key. As a single woman who works late nights in New York, I’ve learned how to use keys in self-defense as weapons if needed.
“I need you to come with me,” he replies.
“Um, no, thanks. I need to get going.”
“It’s important, Ms. Hanover.” Recognizing the female voice, I turn. Maya is standing between two men large enough to be bouncers. They’re wearing ski masks to hide their features.
“Maya, are you okay?” I ask, alarmed.
“Very well, Ms. Hanover,” she answers with her normal crispness. “We need you to come with us.”
We. My heart drops lower into my belly. “You’re working with this man.”
“Among others, yes,” the mystery man replies. “She’s been the eyes and ears in His Highness’s household.”
“But Elijah is your cousin,” I say to Maya. “Why would you do that to him?”
Maya appears unconcerned about betraying a family member and the man who hired her.
“She serves the King of Nijala first and protects the country’s interests,” the man answers for her.
She nods her head in agreement.
This isn’t about me at all. I’m a pawn in Nijalan politics. Malika warned me about the complexity of my new role, but I didn’t think it’d extend to this, whatever this really is. If what the press has said is true, the Nijalan King and Elijah have been at each other’s throats for years. Is this an extension of whatever their issues are? Have I been dragged into it because of my association with Elijah?
“Look, whatever issues Elijah and his father have, I’ve got no influence over him. Elijah won’t miss me if I’m gone,” I say, backing away slowly. The car is about twenty feet away, but there’s a good chance I won’t reach it with the four of them.
“We are only obeying my king,” the man replies. “Know that this is not personal.”
Not personal? What the fuck? I start forward, wanting to get back to my car and lock the doors.
He blocks my path, and I stop.
“I’ve got two security guys one floor up. It won’t take much for them to hear me.”
“We understood that risk.” He motions to Maya.
“I told them I’m with you and for them to go to for your morning Starbucks,” Maya says, waving her phone.
I turn, panic sliding through me. The two bouncers are moving closer. I open my mouth to scream. One of them grabs me, and a foul-smelling cloth is clamped across my mouth and nose. I struggle for mere seconds before my body gives out.
Elijah’s face crosses my mind. It’s the last thing I recall before the darkness.