LOGINCHAPTER FIFTY SIXIVIN POVShe was in my car, Nalayna is alive, breathing and wrapped in my security jacket with her shoulder against the window and her hand still holding the other girl's even in sleep because Nala, even a shadow of herself was still Nala, still holding onto whatever she had decided to hold onto with everything she had left.I drove because that was the only option besides pulling her into my arms and I did not look at her in the mirror anymore because every time I looked at her in the mirror something happened to my ability to operate a vehicle safely and I needed to operate a vehicle safely right now.Fifteen whole days.I kept landing on that number like a sore spot you kept pressing without meaning to, fifteen days of just existing while all my thoughts and action raveled around a girl i was supposed to ignore, a girl that should mean nothing to me but apparently my world is a meaningless and faded white and black, she happens to be the splash of high definition
CHAPTER FIFTY FIVE NALA POVI don't know how long I cried on him.But it was long enough that my legs stopped working properly and he was doing most of the holding up without making it a thing. It was Long enough that his shirt was wet and I had moved past caring about that somewhere around the third wave of it. Also long enough that the crying stopped being about any one specific thing and became about all of it at once, the room and the sessions and the fever and the gate and Ethan's voice and the man in the good coat and thirty minutes and all of it, every single day of it coming out in the grey morning air against Ivin's chest.He didn't say anything.Didn't shush me or pat my back in that performative way people patted backs when they were uncomfortable with crying and wanted it to stop. He just held on to me with both arms, they were solid and warm and completely still the way only Ivin could be still, like he had decided this was where he was and nothing was moving him from
CHAPTER FIFTY FOUR IVIN POV (contd)Relief was too small a word for something that started in my chest and moved outward until I could feel it in my hands. Relief was what you felt when you found a lost object. This was something categorically different from that and I was standing in a room in a port warehouse at 5am finally looking at it directly.I was in love with her.Not in the general direction of love. Not the early proximity of it. Fully, completely, irrevocably in love with a stubborn sassy reckless redheaded woman who had walked into my life as a debt and dismantled every wall I had built since I was nineteen years old and hadn't even noticed she was doing it.I was going to have to sit with that.Later.Right now I crossed the room and crouched in front of her and put my hands on her face as carefully as I had ever put my hands on anything in my life and she closed her eyes and leaned into my palms and the sound that came out of her was so small and so completely wrecked
CHAPTER FIFTY THREEIVIN POVGabriel sent the coordinates at 4:47am.I was already in the car.I don't remember the process of me leaving the building and getting into the car. I don't remember the drive from the estate or putting on my jacket or checking my weapon but I remember the coordinates arriving on my screen and then I remember being in motion because staying still was no longer something my body was willing to negotiate with.Fourteen days.I had been counting without meaning to count.The way you counted something you were trying not to think about because the number kept getting larger and every time it got larger it meant another day she was somewhere I hadn't found yet and the rooms kept being empty and the leads kept being wrong and at some point in the last fourteen days something had happened to me that I hadn't fully looked at directly yet because looking at it directly required admitting what it meant.I was terrified.For the first time in my adult life, but it was
CHAPTER FIFTY TWONALA POVThe room they put me in while they waited for the handler smelled like industrial cleaning fluid trying to cover something older underneath it and failing completely, it smelled awful.I sat on the edge of a cot that had probably seen too many people's worst moments and stared at the wall and thought about nothing because nothing was the only thing my thoughts came up with nowadays.The handler came in twenty minutes later with a bag.He set it on the cot beside me without looking at my face. People had stopped looking at my face.I had noticed that. When you stopped being a person to someone they stopped looking at your face because faces were the part that complicated things and complications were bad for business."Get changed," he said, nodding at the bag.I looked at it.But I didn't move."Get changed." He repeated coldly in the same tone of someone who had said the same words in the same room to too many people and had run out of any version of patien
CHAPTER FIFTY ONENALA POVThere was a version of me that would have counted the turns as the van took another thorn.She would have been pressing her ear to the truck wall, memorizing the sounds outside, calculating distance from time and speed, building an escape plan out of nothing the way she had always built everything, out of nothing, out of stubbornness, out of the deep irrational belief that her brain plus her mouth plus her refusal to accept any situation as final was enough to get her out of anything.That version of me felt like someone I had read about once.Someone fictional.I sat in the dark of the truck with my shoulder against the cold metal wall and felt every pothole in my ribs and my face and every other place that had been keeping records for days and I did not count the turns. I did not press my ear to anything. I sat and breathed and watched the dark and thought about noth







