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PLOP. PLOP. PLOP.

“Hamish!” I cried, my voice booming off the shelves.

The water boomed, too, booming and booming and booming.

Hamish’s lips curved in the sweetest smile. Then he disappeared.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Wherever the water was coming from, it was a torrent. The sound filled the study, the beat so loud it throbbed in my head.

No.

Not my head.

My chest.

BOOM. BOOM. BOOM.

Hamish was gone. And that boom wasn’t water.

It was my heart.

Chapter Seventeen

GEORGIE

I woke with a gasp, the echo of wind in my head.

Expecting to hear it again, I gazed around the tower chamber. But the room was still. Nothing was amiss. Midnight sun pooled on the floor and fell over the bed. Callum sprawled on his stomach beside me, his arms hugging the pillow and his mouth slightly open. The bedding was twisted around his hips. His back rose and fell evenly in sleep.

A smile pulled at my lips as I studied him. After a long soak in the caldarium, he’d tried making s’mores from the peanut butter and chocolate protein bars in my backpack. Easily the worst food I’d ever tasted, but my cheeks still hurt from laughing.

“Blanket hog,” I murmured, smoothing the ever-present lock of hair back from his forehead. My bladder chose that moment to make its presence known, and I eased quietly from the bed, threw on clothes, and slipped into the ice-cold corridor. My teeth started to chatter as I took care of business, and I said a silent vow to never take indoor plumbing or central heating for granted again. I was halfway back to the chamber when a gust of frigid wind carried a man’s low, sorrowful moan down the corridor.

I tensed, my heart pumping faster and my senses primed for the sound, which had blown from the direction of Graeme’s tower.

It came again, louder this time. Wherever Graeme was, he was hurting.

Wait. Maybe he was hurting for real. As in, injured instead of sad.

Another moan—louder and sharper. It wasn’t the sound of a man mourning his lost love or regretting his life choices. No, Graeme was in trouble.

Heart racing, I dashed back to the chamber. “Callum—” I stopped short on the threshold, my gaze landing on the empty bed. Callum was gone.

Wind whipped through the windows, snuffing out the fire. Fear twisted in my gut, and a cold sweat broke out over my skin. He wouldn’t just leave. Not unless he absolutely had to.

The moan sounded again—but this time, it came from overhead.

And it wasn’t Graeme’s moan. It was Callum’s.

I didn’t think. I just ran, my heart skipping beats as I scrambled to the spiral staircase and flew up the steps two at a time. Callum’s moans grew louder and more agonized as I neared the top.

“I’m coming!” I cried, my voice echoing in the narrow stairwell. My mind raced with possibilities. Had he fallen? Was he trapped? Had Graeme returned and challenged him again?

The last thought had me tripping over my own feet in my rush to reach him, and I stumbled and banged my knee on the top step. Gritting my teeth, I burst through the narrow door and skidded onto the tower’s roof.

Empty.