LOGINLADY P ❣️ We are officially 23 chapters into our journey, and the plan is set. They have the intel. They have the maps. They have the schedule. But Hazel has noticed something that doesn't add up. Question of the day: Do you think Nikki is telling the truth? Or is she leading them into something worse than a rescue? Drop your theories below! 🥺 And don't forget to VOTE, COMMENT, and DROP YOUR GEMS! 🥰 With love and fire, Lady P ❣️
"Run," Damien said, and I ran.I grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her toward the side of the house, and behind me I heard my father and Anton coming as fast as they could, and below us on the cliff path the voices got louder. Three men, maybe four. Walking slow. Like they already knew where we were."Not the path," I said."Side of the cliff," Damien said. "Where the land slopes down. There's trees there. We can hide."We ran along the wall of the house and hit the slope at the corner, and the ground was loose and cold under my feet and I slipped and caught myself and kept going, and then we were in the trees and it was dark and thick and nobody could see us."Down," Damien said. "Lie down."We dropped behind a fallen log, all five of us, and I put my hand over Sarah's mouth because I didn't know if she could stay quiet, and she nodded at me and I took my hand away, and we lay there in the dark and waited.Footsteps above us. Slow. Heavy."Anything?""Nothing. They must have gone down
The cold hit me first. I went over the side of the boat and the water closed over my head and for a second I couldn't tell which way was up. I came out gasping, treading hard, and Damien was right there beside me with his hand already on the rock, and my father was behind us lowering himself into the water with his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscles working in his neck. "Thirty seconds," Nikolai whispered. "Then I pull back out. Flash twice when you're ready for me." We moved. Damien found the crack first and pulled himself up, and I followed, and the moment my hands left the water the cold turned into something sharper, something that bit into my fingers and made them slow and clumsy. I climbed anyway. I found the shelf, I found the diagonal, I found the rhythm, and for the first section it was almost easy, almost like the daylight scouting had taught my body what to do. Then the path thinned out, and everything got worse. The holds got smaller. The rock got slicker.
Two hours. That's how long we had before the rotation. Nikolai said it like it was nothing, like two hours was just a number, but sitting on that dock with the cliff looming above us in the dark, two hours felt like a lifetime. I couldn't eat. I tried, but the bread sat in my mouth like sand and I ended up feeding it to the gulls. My father ate his, slowly, methodically, the way he did everything now. Damien ate his too, then went over the map with Nikolai one more time, their voices low, their heads bent together. I just sat there and watched the cliff go black. Nikolai came over after a while and stood in front of me with his hands in his pockets. "You should rest." "I can't." "I know." He looked at me for a long moment. "I've done things like this before. Years ago. The waiting was always the worst part. You sit there thinking about every way it can go wrong, and the more you think about it, the more certain you are that you're going to die up there." "How did you get throug
We went out on the water again with the sun still up, because Nikolai wanted us to see the path with our own eyes before we tried to climb it in the dark, and because he said that anyone who tried to climb that cliff without seeing it in daylight was already dead and just hadn't found out yet. The water was calmer than it had been the night before, which was something, but the sky was grey and the wind was cold and I stood at the rail with my hands wrapped around the metal and my eyes fixed on the rock face, and I tried to see the path the way Nikolai had described it. The crack by the waterline. The thin diagonal line climbing left to right. The ledge halfway up, hidden from the house. The last stretch, smooth and narrow and leaning out over the drop. I could see the crack now. That was the first thing that surprised me. In daylight, the crack was obvious, a dark vertical line in the rock maybe four feet above the water, wide enough to get both hands into. And once I found the crack
The first thing I did when I woke up was check whether Sarah was still gone. That sounds strange, I know. But for a few seconds every morning, before my eyes were even open, my brain gave me this gift of forgetting, this soft little window where nothing had happened yet and my sister was still somewhere in the world, safe, probably asleep, probably dreaming about normal things. And every morning, without fail, I'd reach for that feeling and it would slip through my fingers, and the truth would come crashing back down on me before I'd even opened my eyes. She was gone. Karem had her. And the clock was still ticking. I got up, pulled on the same clothes I'd been wearing for days because there was nothing else, and walked out into the main room of the cabin. Damien was already at the counter with a cup of coffee in one hand and the folder open in front of him, and he didn't look up when I came in, because he was reading the same page he'd been reading the night before, the same page he
The meeting point was a cafe on the edge of the city, the kind of place that served burnt coffee and day-old pastries to people who didn't want to be seen. We got there early, because Damien said we should, and because I wanted to watch the door before we walked through it. I wanted to see who came in, who went out, who lingered too long, who looked at us twice. Nobody looked at us twice. Nobody looked at us at all. That was either a good sign or a very bad one, and I couldn't decide which. We took a booth in the back corner, the one with a view of both exits and a wall behind our heads. Damien sat across from me with his back to the door, which I hated, but he insisted it was better if he couldn't see who came in, because his face gave too much away. I didn't argue. I just kept my eyes on the door and my hands wrapped around a cup of coffee I had no intention of drinking. My father had stayed at the cabin. He hadn't wanted to. He'd stood in the doorway with that hollow look on his







