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I feel a tingle on my skin as I wonder what midnight holds for me. What midnight holds for them, too.
Tomorrow’s sun is going to rise on a different kind of world.
I wonder where I’ll be then. Do I trust my father enough to let him lead me blindly into the rest of my life?
I know Archie Theron. My dad is paranoid to a fault and fiercely protective. In my heart of hearts, I already know what he’s going to tell me.
We have to leave as soon as possible.
Ilarion can’t be trusted, and even if he could be, his lifestyle is too dangerous.
We’re all at risk if we stay close to him.
All things I already know.
I tear myself away from the window and step into the bathroom. The idea was to splash some cold water on my face and shock these lurid thoughts of my system. But instead, I stand in front of the mirror and stare at my reflection for a moment.
My cheeks are pale and gaunt. I lookafraid.My eyes dip down to my belly. It’s getting to the point where I’m starting to feel pregnant. Which means I’m going to have to tell Celine and Dad soon—before I startlookingpregnant.
I pull my hair back and tie it in a ponytail. But the adrenaline rush of the cold water doesn’t last longer than a second or two.
I check the clock. Nineteen minutes to go.
By the time I head back to the window in my room, I see that the gates are closed, the trucks have disappeared, and all is quiet in the courtyard. The butterflies have gathered in my belly.
I don’t bother packing. I just grab the same bag I took with me to the mountain. It’s filled with all the clothes I never got a chance to wear.
I sling it over my shoulder and follow the staircase down to the ground floor. Then I take the kitchen exit out into the gardens, creeping slowly, keeping an eye out for any stragglers or wandering security. I wind through the gardens until I find the path that will lead me to the south gate.
Like everywhere else, it’s quiet here. Stones shift underfoot, but the night air is dead still. Not even a breeze to ruffle the hedges.
I round a bend and see it standing there. The gate. The boundary between the life I wanted and the life I’m going to get.
It’s simple iron, painted jade green. There’s no chorus of angels waiting to usher me through. No Zakharov guards, either, which strikes me as odd. It just stands there, eerily alone.
But there’s no turning back now.
I open the latch and pass through.
At first, I don’t see anything. Just the darkness of night and a lot of trees. Then: a burst of light in the distance. The flash of headlights, there and then gone again.
A signal.
I dart through the trees until the car materializes from the darkness. It’s a shabby Honda with a dented hood. Ilarion wouldn’t be caught dead in it. I slow to a walk just as the driver’s side door opens.
“Taylor.”
“Dad!” I gasp when I realize that there’s blood on his collar and flecks of it down his shirt. “What’s happening? What the hell is going on?”
“We’re leaving,” he says. He eyes my bag. “Good—you packed. Let’s go.”
I take a deep breath, steady my nerves, and deliver the first line of the speech I practiced in the dark of my bathroom.
“No.”
79
TAYLOR
