Chapter 25
Naya
The crispy morning sunbathes our surroundings in a glorious light as we stand outside an older building, its architecture reminiscent of a faraway era. The intricate details beg to be admired, and every window is decorated with art that draws inspiration from nature’s beauty and the gothic. Flowing lines and rhythmic patterns give an organic, almost living feeling—the perfect structure for a bookstore. I watch the building silently from across the road, staring at the long queue while waiting for people to enter.
Nerves eat me up from the inside, as if bugs are devouring all my organs until I’m left with nothing but bone. The uncertainty of what the day holds is what unnerves me the most—what if Everlee doesn’t want to be my friend anymore? What if she has forgotten about me?
There are too many ways this could go horribly wrong, and the thoughts make it impossible to stand still. I switch between bouncing on my toes and pacing back and forth.
The fall weather has blown in over England, carrying an unexpected chill that makes me cross my arms for warmth. Neither Grey nor I are dressed for this weather. The light sweaters Daxton gave us were meant for milder days. A faint mist escapes with each breath in the early morning.
My eyes are glued to the queue across the street—it’s impossible to miss the eagerness on every reader’s face. The line snakes around the more Gothic-like building, leading into the bookstore, where banners announcing the book signing flutter in the breeze. I fixate on the portrait of Everlee, a senseof pride warming my chest that has tears glazing my eyes. Everlee is beautiful, with a wide smile as she holds the book she released. She looks the same, yet so different from how she was at Grimhill Manor—more radiant.
Every ten minutes that pass, my body tingles with the need to flee, and Grey has to stop me several times from giving up. Readers leave the signing after their book has been signed, and my eyes are drawn to them like magnets. Some of them are smiling, happy that they met their favorite author, while some of them are crying—horrified at the truths that transpired at Grimhill Manor.
It’s hard to even think about it all—it feels as if I’m the one being exposed, my life shred open for all to watch and judge. The world knows our story—her story.
Before I can change my mind, Grey pulls me across the street. The longing is there, wanting to be closer to her and see her for the first time in a very long time. But as her voice filters through the store, amplified by speakers and a mic that carries the sound outside, I halt in my tracks.
“I wrote this book for all the survivors of kidnapping, human trafficking, sexual assault—whoever you are who have gone through anything against your will. May we hold on to that glimmer of hope. May we all learn and do better to protect the world.”
Cheers break out, along with sniffles, as the atmosphere becomes overwhelmed in a myriad of different emotions.
“Thank you all for coming here today.”
Readers pile out of the store in groups, not all at once. Guards outside watch us, and a flicker of doubt blooms inside of me, fearing they might somehow recognize who we are. When we pass them and head inside, they remain as unbothered as before, and my chest loosens as the anxiety melts away.
Once we enter, we stand to the side, pressed against the wallwhile the remaining readers get their copies signed.
I can’t help but smile, emotions of pride and melancholy overwhelming me. My beloved friend is up there, sitting at a table, signing books with a smile for everyone who comes to see her.
It’s a beautiful moment to see your friend so successful, doing something good for the world by telling her story about Grimhill Manor.
I don’t know how long we stand there, watching Everlee as she signs book after book, talking to her fans, who seem moved to tears as they share their own stories of heartbreak. Grey’s arm around my waist startles me, and I look up into his eyes. It isn’t until then I realize that I’m crying, tears blurring my vision. He kisses my forehead, and I smile at him before looking at Everlee once again.
An ache settles deep within. It’s been such a long time since I last saw her, after we tried escaping together.
“Excuse me?” a guard approaches from the side, and I can’t help the nervous flutter I feel in his presence—does he recognize us?
Grey turns around to face the guard, leveling him with a glare. “Yeah?”
“We have to close the venue soon. If you want your turn with Miss Everlee, you need to join the queue now.”
“Yes, of course. Sorry,” Grey replies as the guard turns around to walk to the doors again. “Come on, little doll. It’s your time.”
A wildfire rages inside me, causing my heart to pound with the force of a thousand flames. The room spins, dizziness settling in. Grey’s hold on me is the only thing keeping me grounded as I walk on wobbly legs toward the end of the queue, which is quickly dispersing as the event comes to an end.
I feel eyes watching me, but it’s not Everlee, who is engaged with the five remaining readers. In the corner of the bookstorestands a silhouette of a man, his frame largely built, and his gaze burning through my skin with a suspicious glint. I meet his eyes, cold as a winter day, glaring at me with daggers shooting ice. I swallow uncomfortably and turn my attention back to Everlee. He mirrors my movement and crosses his arms over his chest. He must be some kind of guard, and his presence makes me queasy.
There’s an uncertain sense of fear keeping me immobile as all insecurities of what could go wrong slither through my mind, wrapping tight like vines around a crumbling building. I retreat, but Grey’s hand comes around my waist in a firm grip that prevents me from going anywhere.
I can’t do this to her—I can’t let Everlee’s life be tainted by my demons. She has come so far since we tried to escape Grimhill Manor. I don’t have the right to ruin that.
Another step back, but Grey’s hand moves with me, his fingers closing around my throat with just enough pressure to make me draw in a sharp breath. Something coils deep within me as the action forces my gaze to his, intense as they pierce through me in a way that grounds me, despite the terror.
“Don’t hold back, little doll. We made it this far.” His voice is a harsh whisper, yet his eyes are soft as they look at me, as if I hung the moon for him.
I nod, the weight of his hand still on my throat, sliding up to brush against my lower lip. He pulls it down with a seductive touch, and I close my eyes.
