Chapter Fifty-Eight
Maggie
Maggie’s eyes were blurry and her head was throbbing. Her legs hurt from the short fall and hard stop, but the thing she was
most aware of was the dense, heavy weight on top of her, pressing her down and not letting her move.
Ethan.
“Get off me,” she said just as a boom echoed overhead and there was nothing but heat and the sound of shattering glass. And Ethan. Pressing himself against her
as the trapdoor rattled and dirt rained down. Covering her. Protecting her.
And, so help her, when he pulled back and muttered, “Chemicals,” it was the sweetest thing any man had ever said, and for
a moment, she wasn’t sure where the heat was coming from, the fire or the man on top of her, worry and fear all over his face.
Sweat beaded on his brow, sliding over hot skin. “We have to get out of here. Are you hurt? Can you walk?”
“I... I’m fine.” As she climbed to her feet, she felt steady enough, but the beam of her flashlight was shaking, vibrating
in the dark, and once they were far away from the fire, she felt him stop and turn her.
“Let me look at you.” He directed the light in her direction.
“I’m okay.” But his hands were in her hair—which usually felt really good, but he touched a place that felt really not good, and she couldn’t help but wince. “Ow.”
She watched Ethan go cold. “I’m going to kill someone.”
He sounded like a man making a to-do list. Buy light bulbs. Gas up car. Slay your enemies and salt their fields. It wasn’t a threat or a promise or a dare. It was an inevitability, and for the life of her, Maggie couldn’t bring herself
to argue.
So she took his face in her hands and met his eyes. “I’m okay.”
“You were gone.” His forehead pressed against hers, and his breath was a whisper on her lips. “You hated me and you were gone.”
“I’m okay.”
“ You were gone. ” His eyes were full of pain and terror. Like this was a nightmare he’d had a thousand times and he’d just been forced to
live it. Like he was going to be living it again and again for the rest of his life.
“I’m here.” She pressed his hand against her pounding heart. “I’m okay.”
“I couldn’t find you.”
“You did find me. And I’m okay. We’re okay. Ethan—” She pushed onto her toes and pressed her lips to his, and she felt him shift against her, trance breaking,
terror fading. And then he was the Ethan from the maze again, focused and calm—an impenetrable wall and human fortress as
he looked into her eyes.
“I’m getting you out of here.”
The tunnel was too hot, a reminder that the greenhouse was still burning and Maggie’s mind filled with all the things they
had to do.
“The snow should keep the fire from spreading to the main house, but we’ll need to keep everyone away from the smoke. Not
to mention... Ethan?” She glanced back at the ladder that rose to the passageway they’d found that afternoon. “We go up
here.”
He stopped but pointed his flashlight in the other direction, to where the tunnel stretched on and on, an unending string
of shadows and cobwebs. It was exactly the kind of scene that should have terrified her, but she wasn’t afraid of that dark,
cramped space. She wasn’t thinking about wine cellars or Colin or wondering if they’d find her body before spring. Not once.
Not as long as she was with...
“Ethan?”
“What?” He gripped her hand and tugged, leading her toward... What exactly?
“We don’t even know where this goes.”
“It doesn’t matter. We’re not going back to the house.”
“But we have to tell someone...”
“That the greenhouse is probably toast by now?” He huffed. “Either they won’t notice or they won’t care. And you’re right—”
“I am?” She was never going to get used to someone saying that.
“The fire can’t spread with all this snow. So...”
“So we’re not going back,” she filled in, but it still felt wrong. Like this was a play and she’d gotten her cue wrong. “They’re
going to be worried when they can’t find us.”
He let out a low, gruff laugh. “Good. Maybe then they’ll stop trying to kill us.”
Someone had tried to kill her. Not Eleanor. This wasn’t a case of mistaken identity or wrong-place-wrong-time. They’d tried to kill Maggie. And suddenly
her legs stopped working and she stumbled to a stop. The wall of the tunnel was rough on her back and her hair caught on something,
tugging and breaking and she kept her eyes closed tight because the whole world felt like it was spinning so fast that she
was going to be slung free, tossed out into the void.
“I have you.” Soft lips pressed against her temple. “I have you.”
“Ethan?” She looked up at him.
“Yeah?”
“No one has ever tried to kill me before.”
“That’s okay.” He was biting back a smile. “People try to kill me all the time.”
“Like who?”
“You.” She swatted his arm and his grin grew wider. “Remember the Christmas party three years ago? You were wearing this green
dress that showed your...” He made a gesture like he didn’t know the word.
“Shoulder?” Her laugh was wet, full of tears she couldn’t cry. “My shoulder tried to kill you?”
He gave a moan... “It slayed me. Killed me dead.”
“What if I told you I also have it in black?”
She felt his lips on her cheek—a brush so quick and soft she almost missed it. “Then I’d say there’s no better way to die.”
The tunnel was close and warm in a way that had nothing to do with fires and killers at that point, but the smile slid off
Ethan’s face before he kissed her again, pressing and searching and pleading. A kiss like a promise—like a vow—saying I have you , and I’m with you , and—
“I’m getting you out of here.”