He looked like I had physically wounded him, but it was nothing compared to what I felt.

“You need to let me leave here, Hayden. Please.”

Hayden shook his head. “You have to let me explain—”

“Explain what?” I cried. “You killed my father—you killed me, for chrissake!”

“What?” he gasped.

“I saw the papers, Hayden! I saw them. And you’ve basically admitted to it.”

His brows furrowed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I never admitted to causing that accident because I didn’t! How could you even think that?”

God, he sounded so honest, so genuine, like the words were tearing him apart. But the evidence—the evidence was right on the floor.

I dropped to my knees and grabbed for the menu, planning to shove it his face. “This is the menu to… to—I don’t understand.” I turned the menu over.

“It’s a menu to the Smoke Hole diner. And no, I don’t know how it got there.”

“No, no, no. This wasn’t a menu to the diner!” I flipped it back and forth. “This is—was a menu to Salt of the Sea.”

“Obviously, it’s not, Ember.”

I looked up, shaking my head. Hayden’s arms were folded across his chest and he looked angry. “No. There were dates written across the menu! The date of the accident was circled. It was in your handwriting! There were newspaper articles about my Dad, my school schedule—” I made a grab for them, only to find out that they, too, weren’t what I’d previously seen.

The article clippings were of Cromwell’s election. The schedule was council meetings. The directions were to Morgantown. “I don’t understand. This isn’t what I saw!”

“I didn’t touch those papers.”

“I know—I know you didn’t.” I dropped them and sat back. Hayden hadn’t been talking about the car crash when he’d said he’d killed people. Oh, God. He’d been talking about the fire and… and I’d yelled at him—demanded how he could’ve done that.

“Ember, what’s going on with you? Dammit, was this why you wanted to drive to school by yourself today? So you could sneak through our stuff?”

I dropped my head into my hands. None of this made sense. I know what I saw and yet, it wasn’t there.

“And still after everything, you don’t trust me. You really think that I would have ever hurt you or your family? That I could have done something like that?” He gave a harsh laugh. “Wait. What am I saying? You read my file. You know why I was in foster care. So yeah, I guess you’d think I’d murdered your father, too.”

“No.” I moved my hands away from my face. “You didn’t murder your parents. It was an accident. You didn’t know how to control your gift. You’re not a killer, Hayden.”

He stared down at me silently.

“I… I think I’m losing my mind. I really am.”

The anger faded from his face, replaced by concern. He crouched and gently grasped my shoulders. “Ember, what’s going on?”

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m sorry I said those things to you. I don’t know what I was thinking. I know what I saw, but it isn’t there anymore. I’m sorry—I’m sorry about what happened to your family. It’s not your fault.”

“Forget about that. Are you feeling okay?”

I laughed, because honestly, I felt funny. My brain was processing everything wrong. I was far from being okay. Either my mind had played a horrible trick on me or I was crazy.

“Em?” He ran his fingers over my cheek. Just a simple, gentle touch and it pierced my heart. How could he ever forgive me for this? “Em, you don’t look so good.”

“I have a headache.” In fact, I’d had a headache ever since English class. “I want to leave. Can we just leave?”

Hayden stared a moment, then nodded. We stopped long enough to change into dry clothes before climbing into his SUV. He leaned forward, running his arm over the fogged windshield. “Em, did you feel anything strange before you looked at those papers?”

“No.” I stared out the window. “Just a headache, but I haven’t eaten.”

Hayden stopped at the end of the driveway. “Do you want to get something to eat, then? We can talk about what you saw.”

I nodded. We traveled down the rural highway in silence until I couldn’t stand not knowing what he thought or apologizing to him again. “Hayden, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have read your file. That’s your personal stuff. “

“I would’ve told you, Em. I just didn’t know how to. I thought you’d—Shit!” He slammed on the brakes.

I jerked forward. There was a black car—two-door. Not a Porsche, but it looked familiar, and it was right in the middle of the road.

The tires slipped over the rain-soaked road, losing traction as Hayden whipped the steering wheel into the spin-out. We’d been going too fast to stop so suddenly. The car spun into the other lane, going up on two tires and we sort of hung there in the air for a second. In that pause, my brain flipped back two years.

I heard Hayden curse.

And then we were flung to the side as the SUV rolled. An explosion of white and dust threw me back into the seat. My heart stopped and my lungs seized the moment we came down on the driver’s side, then the roof, then my side. The crash jarred every bone in my body. The air flew from my lungs and my head hit the window with a disgusting thud.

A crack sounded as the SUV took another nasty flip. I couldn’ t even scream. It was like being trapped in haunting memory that wouldn’t relinquish control. My head slammed into the window again and this time the glass shattered under the impact.

Something metallic ripped and pressed into me as we skidded off the road and slid across the field, finally coming to rest on the driver’s side.

I remained still for minutes, stunned and barely able to breathe. Blood, wet and warm, trickled down the side of my head. Something poked into my right leg, leaving it numb. I tried to look around, but the movement hurt. Over the radio, I could hear the tires spinning.

Miraculously, I was still held by my seatbelt and I was alive, I was— Hayden. I didn’t hear him, couldn’t see him.

Frantic, I ignored the waves of red-hot pain and pushed at the airbag until I could see around me. The driver’s airbag had deflated. Hayden lay against the crushed door, motionless and covered in blood.

And through all that blood, he was pale so, so pale.

“Hayden!” I pitched forward, but the seatbelt yanked me back. “Hayden! Wake up! Please—oh, God. Please be alive.” My fingers, drenched in blood, slipped over the latch.

He didn’t move. I couldn’t even tell if he was breathing, and I couldn’t get the seatbelt undone. Panic poured through me, screams filled my ears. Someone had to help us, right? Hayden had to be alive— he had to be.

This couldn’t be happening again. No. No, not all over—

The passenger door yanked open, startling me. I stopped struggling, stopped screaming. Someone was here to help. Everything was going to be okay.

Arms reached down, wrapping around my waist while a hand felt for the seatbelt. I was too relieved to even think about what would happen if they touched me. I couldn’t tear my eyes off Hayden to even look to see who was pulling me out of the car. I was hoisted into the air for a second, and rain beat down on my face, mixing with tears. “Please help him! Please!”

Then nothing was holding me.

I hit the wet, unforgiving ground hip-first. Fresh, new pain stole my breath. I rolled onto my back, squinting through the sheets of icy rain at the dark shadow towering over me. Slowly, I lifted my head. I recognized the body—the face—as someone I trusted, someone who would help us.

“Please help him,” I whispered, crawling onto my knees.

Without any warning, a booted foot connected with my head. Everything went white, then black.

Chapter 27

When I came to, I noticed two things immediately. I was freezing—so cold my teeth chattered and I couldn’t feel my toes. And I couldn’t move my arms.

I opened my eyes to see nothing but darkness. It was hard to distinguish anything until my sight adapted. Once it did, I delved headfirst into freak-out mode, which didn’t help the pounding in my skull.

I was in a cellar of some sort—an old one used to store things no one wanted. The walls reflected a slimy sort of surface. It took me several seconds to realize water dripped down the blocks, pooling along the floor, soaking my jeans. The thin tank I’d thrown on before leaving the house now clung to me like an icy sheet. I had no idea where my hoodie was.

I really started to spaz out then.

Kicking my legs up, I tried to stand, but couldn’t get my arms out from behind me. They were tied to something—a thick, cold pipe cut into my back. Metal sliced my wrists as I struggled wildly to get them undone. All I succeeded in doing was tearing the skin open, spilling more blood.

A squeaking noise came from one of the dark corners, then the sound of something scurrying across the room.

My heart lodged in my throat. I stopped moving, staring blindly into the shadows. Two beady eyes became visible. I shrieked and yanked my legs up, knocking my shins against something—several coarse, hairy little bodies.

Rats.

I screamed, really screamed, until my throat felt like it’d ripped open. Rats hurried back to the corners, their claws clicking across the cement. I pulled against the pipe, thrashing until my fingers turned numb. Terror consumed me, eating away at the thin grasp I held on sanity.

Time came and went. I lost track. My throat was so hoarse my screams sounded more like moans. I peered into the gloom, sure everything moved—the rats, waiting until I passed out to start nibbling on my skin. A hysterical laugh escaped me—little did they know that the first bite would kill them. My mind started playing tricks on me. I was sure I heard movement above me more than once, but no one answered my cries. No one came. Was this how I would die? By rats or blood loss? Or by freezing to death, because I was pretty sure hypothermia was setting in. At one point, I swore the shadows whispered my name— called to me like some sick chorus of death.

Above me, a door opened. With the sound of a thrown switch, a bulb overhead came on, sparked once, and then dimmed. Footsteps came down the stairs. Boots first, then jeans, leather-covered hands, a heavy sweater rolled up to the elbows… and then any hope I had that this was a good thing crumbled and died.

I squeezed my eyes shut and pretended to be asleep—or dead.

The footsteps neared, stopped, and poked my curled toes. “I know you’re awake.”

I didn’t move, didn’t dare breathe. Not even when the buzzing droned to an intense pitch.

A sigh came. “Ember, I can read your thoughts. I know you’re awake. Don’t make this harder on yourself, or me.”

My eyes snapped opened then. I hadn’t realized how close the monster was to me, but only inches separated us. “Why?” My voice came out hoarse and weak.