34. Zane
She looks so beautiful standing there, her eyes wide and flooded with tears, her hair tangling around her face. She lifts one hand and hooks a strand back, trying to tame its wildness, but a moment later, the wind takes it away again.
I hold up the flier and point to it and shake my head. The increasing wind threatens to whip it out of my hand. Does she understand what I’m trying to tell her? That we had nothing to do with this.
I wish I could speak. I need to tell her it wasn’t us, that we would never write something like that about her. She needs to know someone is screwing with us. All of us.
She’s looking at me like she’s terrified.
She’s so close to the edge, and the storm seems to be building momentum with every passing second.
I’ve never hated my lack of a voice more than in this moment. I want to tell her that no matter what’s happened, no matter what any of us have done, we can fix it. We can wipe the slate clean and start again. I don’t care if she’s in cahoots with Jarl Olsen or if she had anything to do with our stuff being wrecked. All I care about is that she’s safe.
I reach for her, but my action means she takes another step back. Another step closer to the edge.
“Don’t push me, Zane!” she cries.
No, fuck. No. I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure she gets down safely.
What does she have in mind? Is she planning to take the same way out as her sister? To follow in Reagan’s path?
If she does, I’ll never forgive myself. I might as well just follow her over the edge. There’s no point in living with a broken heart.
Fuck, it hits me then. She can break me, and I can’t lose her.
I place my hands together in a prayer motion, the paper crushing between my palms. Please, I beg her in my head. Please come away from the edge.
As though she knows what I’m thinking, she glances behind her at the huge drop between the top of the tower and the ground.
I can’t let her fall or, God forbid, jump.
I dare take another step closer, but she shakes her head and edges back again. I debate my next move. If I launch myself at her, I might grab hold of her before she has the chance to fall—or jump. But ‘might’ is a deadly word in this circumstance. If I miss, and she jerks back and topples over…
It isn’t even worth thinking about.
A particularly strong gust of wind buffets the tower. I swear I feel the old bricks shaking beneath my feet. This is far from safe.
Please . I mouth the words this time. Please just step away. Let’s talk about this.
In the distance, a siren sounds. My stomach lurches. Fuck. I know what that means. There’s been a breach in security. What the hell has happened now? I can’t focus on that. It’s not important. The only thing that’s important is right in front of me.
Vani.
Another crash of thunder makes her jump, and she loses her balance. Her arms pinwheel, and she glances over her shoulder at the drop below.
I don’t hesitate. I lunge for her, a silent roar of NOOO peeling from my lips.