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room. An image of her hands on Thomas's body, unbuttoning his shirt. Her face wasn't visible , but there was
no mistaking her wet blond hair or her stark white coat. Someone had seen them together. Someone had
proof.
It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. Bile rose in her throat. This one piece of paper would ruin her. Would ruin
them. She let out a low, desperate moan, pressing her forehead against the surface of the desk. She needed
Thomas now, more than ever. Needed him to hold her, to tell her that everything would be fine. She couldn't
believe that just minutes ago they'd been in bed together, happy. Calm.
Unlike her mother, who had given up on her life, on her husband, Ariana was determined to cling to that
feeling of happiness for dear life. But first she had to find the lighter. Stuffing the picture in her back pocket,
she dropped to her knees and slid her hands beneath the desk. After a minute, her hands closed around a metal
rectangle. The lighter, thank God.
But as she stood, something warm in the bitter cold of Thomas's room slipped across the back of her neck. A
warm breath. New electricity surged through her body, and the hairs along her arms prickled. Someone was
behind her. Almost touching her in the tarry darkness.
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Someone had been waiting for her to find the picture. Hope you're ready to beg for forgiveness. Could it be
Daniel?
Suddenly it didn't matter who it was. Whoever it was wasn't supposed to be here. And clearly didn't want her
here. Instinctively, her hand moved toward the empty rum bottle on the desk. In one swift movement, her
fingers closed around its neck, and she brought the bottle down hard against the corner of the desk. The sharp
sound of shattering glass cut through the darkness, and she whirled around, swinging the broken bottle wildly
in front of her.
A voice cried out in surprise, or pain. She couldn't tell if it was male or female-or if was actually her voice.
All she knew was that she had to fight. She sliced the bottle frantically through the air, jabbing this way and
that, as she ran for the window, dropping it on the floor in the moment before she jumped.
Seconds later she slammed into the ground, harder this time, landing on her side in the icy snow. Her arm was
twisted beneath her, and she groaned as she pulled herself to her feet.
Pulse racing, she looked up at the curtains that were fluttering in Thomas's window. No one was there-at
least not anymore. For a moment she just stood there, the snow swirling around her in the darkened campus,
and she realized that never in her life-not even when she'd found her mother that awful afternoon-had she
