Kate asked Bec, “How much did you plan to sell it for?”
“Five grand.”
“Make it ten,” Alex handed her a credit card. “Call it a 12-year storage fee.”
A lightness entered the space at Alex’s olive branch and Kate’s unexpected sale, until Bec asked, “Where should we ship it?”
Alex’s hand flinched. I excused myself, not waiting to hear his address in San Francisco.
Chapter 33Alex
New Year's Day
I’m climbing a winding stone staircase. Below, fog hovers on the Golden Gate Bridge, the majestic red towers piercing the mist. A rough breeze leaves a salty tang on my tongue.
Finally, I arrive at the top to find a charming yellow Victorian townhouse adorned with gingerbread trim and wisteria spilling from window boxes.
Warmth envelopes me. I’m home.
Grace stands on the porch, long hair drifting in the wind, hazel eyes tracking my approach with a soft smile on her face. A child is on her hip. Dark, curly hair tied with ribbons into pigtails. I break into a run as the girl’s face breaks into a grin.
My legs pump. I need to reach them, yet the house recedes as I draw closer.
I’m thrust into my office at Hamilton & Houghton, stumbling in the dark and slipping on papers. Fog obscures the city below, so I see only Alcatraz.
My notebook rests on my desk, covered in purple ink, but the words shift.
Frustrated, I slump in my leather chair. A black, slimy tentacle emerges from under the desk, twisting around my ankle. I pull away, but it tightens and slithers higher up my calf. A second tentacle curls around my waist as a third fastens my wrist to the armrest.
I call for help as the arms tighten, desperately flailing as another tentacle squeezes around my neck. The room blurs as my breath squeezes out of my lungs. The chair beneath me disappears, the tentacles dragging me to the floor. I frantically claw at my neck and I strain to grab hold of something in front of me.
A black stiletto.
Panicked, I tilt my head to find Victoria towering over me. She’s an Amazonian warrior in a gold breastplate, her copper hair loose to her waist. Her expression is haughty with annoyance.
“Seriously, Alexander?” she scoffs. “This is the best you can do?”
She reaches for the sword strapped to her back and raises it overhead. With a war cry, she slices sideways along my neck. That tentacle drops into my hands and the rest retreat, leaving me sobbing on the floor and gasping for breath.
When she drapes the severed tentacle over her shoulders, it transforms into a cobra that hisses at me. She turns to leave as the cobra slinks down her bicep, saying over her shoulder. “You got us into this mess, you get us out.”
When I follow her, I'm at the tree farm, dodging between trees to chase a pink hat and gaining speed. The pink hat turns and I stop in my tracks.
Mom rests a hand on her pregnant belly. I know it’s me inside.
She raises her other hand to my cheek. “Alexander: Warrior and Protector.”
I focus on her hands on her stomach, and when I look back up, Mallory’s face has replaced Mom's on the pregnant body.
She rolls her eyes at my shocked reaction and points a pink fingernail over my shoulder at Grace’s garage. I trip over my feet to get there, racing up the stairs.
Dad sits in a hospital room, wearing scrubs. “I wasn’t sure you’d pull through.”
A body is in the hospital bed. Without looking, I know it's me.
Dad picks up a sledgehammer and slams it on my chest.
I scream as my ribs crack, then stumble down the stairs and out the door.
I’m in Haight-Ashbury, running up a hill lined with Victorian townhouses. I run until my legs quake.
At the top of the hill, I feel a wave of relief when I see Grace’s yellow townhouse. A deep peace envelopes me immediately, all the restlessness evaporates.
I press through the door, where Grace sits at a walnut table, the girl on her lap.
I found her. I can’t lose her.
I can’t lose them.
Then the little girl is safely in my arms. Her chubby arms wrap around my neck, her short legs around my waist. I lean to press a kiss to Grace’s temple.
The girl reaches between my broken ribs to pluck a pink peppermint shard, which she pops into her mouth and sighs in contentment.
My gaze shifts to Grace. “I love you, darling.”
Grace’s lips part, but no sound comes out.
