Sterling was able to get out on bail.
I tell her where I am exactly.
“Wait for us.” Luna’s voice is more distant now and then I hear tapping away.
It’s my turn to go silent.
“You’re going to storm in there, without a weapon or anything, aren’t you?”
With my free hand, I dig into the glove compartment, pull out the gun I found in Grayson’s desk drawer, and set it carefully on my lap.
“I have a weapon. I just really don’t want to have to use it.”
Nor am I exactly sure how to.
Luna curses. “Sunday, please girl, don’t die. What if it restarts everything all over again? What if you aren’t meant to be there?”
“Luna, I’m sorry, but”–I open the door to the truck, the rain is falling even heavier now and it is nearly covering the sinking sun–“Ihaveto go.”
Disconnecting the call, I create a group text with my three men.
This is reckless and stupid and I promise I tried to call you all to join me, but I can’t let Veronica die. I wouldn’t be able to survive it. I love you all. I’ll be at the bend. Where Tripp and Auggie died. I’ll be okay, I promise.
With the rain continuing to ramp up, I drop my phone on the car seat and grab the gun.
Jumping out, I slam the door shut and tuck the gun in the waistband of my shorts, doing my best to cover it with my now soaked shirt.
In the distance, nearly out of sight and around a bend, I can see a flickering light bulb of a street light.
Following it like a beacon, I make my way towards the end.
Because after this? It will all be over.
Once and for all.
48
October 12th
Not Her Day to Die
It isn’t déjà vu but something very similar—a premonition—that I feel when I see Maxwell’s car.
In my gut, I know with certainty that this is going to be the end. That I will not walk away from this unscathed.
He’s parked on the edge of the road next to the bent guard rail. While this stretch of road is open, no one drives it much anymore.
The rain is nearly blinding me now, the sound of the thunder continuously echoing around me, lightning casting eerie glows across the sky.
Tentatively, I make my way closer to his car.
His front door whips open and then, there he is.
Maxwell Thorne.
He is too far away for me to truly catch his expression, but there is a sinister aura that shrouds him. Darker than blood, nearly black. He is encapsulated in it and as he moves, as he jerks open the back door and drags Veronica out of the car by her hair and onto her knees, it settles around her too.
“Sunday!” she cries. “Please just leave! You don’t need to do this.”
