Julian will never grow old, will never experience life past his early twenties, and it’s all my fault. It might not even work, for Christ’s sake!
I have to get out of here. I have to find a way out of this room so that I can stop him before he does something irreversible.
He loves me. Julian really, truly loves me.And now he’s going to die.
The window! Could I find a way to jump from it?
I run across the room, my knuckles stinging and my eyes blurry with tears. As I reach the window to the right of my bed, my fingers yank at the clasps, but it’s been so long since I opened it that they barely budge.
Then I see it.
Atticus and Julian, standing at the cliff’s edge.
Or, well,Julianis standing right at the ledge, and Atticus is several feet behind him, speaking with his hands thrown out at his sides.
Oh, god. He’s going to jump. Julian is going to jump from 100 feet and drown.
“Hey! Hey!” I bang my hands against the glass, feeling it rattle as streaks of pink smudge across the surface.
Atticus takes a step toward Julian, and my heart skips a beat.
Yes, Atticus! Stop him! Save him!
They continue to converse, and I continue to scream, slamming my hands down over and over again.
I have to find a way to reach him. If Atticus can continue to distract him, to keep him on that ledge, I can find a way down and—
The bell!
Without taking my eyes from where Julian stands, I back away, reaching over my bed to yank repeatedly at the cord hanging from my ceiling.
Oscar comes barreling in a moment later, panting. He must have been in the study with Father, considering how fast he managed to get here.
“Young Master Atlas, what’s wrong?” he asks in a rush.
“Let me out,” I demand.
Oscar’s face falls. “You know I can’t do that.”
“Oscar,” I whisper through gritted teeth, giving him my full attention. “If Julian jumps from that cliff and dies, and you have kept me in here, unable to save him, I willneverforgive you.Never.”
My butler’s eyes grow wide, shooting past me to peer out the blood-smeared window. He spots Julian and Atticus, and he freezes.
Slowly, he turns his attention back to where I stand. After a moment, which feels like an eternity, he steps to the side, leaving the path to the open door clear for me.
“Thank you,” I mutter, then I rush from the room.
I don’t bother grabbing a jacket; there’s no time. In fact, in fear that one of my parents or Atticus himself will grab me before I can reach Julian, I sprint out the front door, rounding the right side of the estate to cut through the woods, so I can approach from a different angle.
I don’t have the time to be restrained. Not again.
My bare feet send signals to my nervous system, screaming in pain as I jump over branches and push through tree limbs. I know I’m slicing open my skin, that I should have at least stopped for shoes, but I can’t think straight.
The trees seem never-ending.
I’m panting, crying softly as I sprint. I just need to clear these trees, then I will be on the west side of where they stand, and I can approach silently, quiet enough to snatch Julian up before he can stop me.
I won’t stop running—no, I don’t have time for that—but the wind should cover the sound of my feet against the dried leaves and brown grass.
