Page 48 of Knot the Last Chapter

The gym goes deathly quiet. Even the rain seems to hold its breath.

Ty is on his feet in a blink, already grabbing his jacket. His pulse is visible in his throat, wild and immediate.

“She wouldn’t…” I begin.

“She would,” he says grimly. “If she felt caged. If she needed space.”

Corwyn’s face darkens. “We need to find her. Now.”

Chapter twenty-six

Lila

The storm has swallowed the world.

Rain pelts me sideways, sharp and stinging, driven by wind that howls like it’s trying to push me off the trail. The raincoat flaps violently against my body, the hood ripped down by a gust, leaving my hair soaked and plastered to my skin. My boots squelch in the mud, every step slower, heavier.

I can’t see the house anymore.

Can’t see anything but trees, their shapes bending and thrashing like they’re alive. My flashlight flickered out minutes ago. Dead battery. Brilliant.

I think I’m still heading toward the boathouse, but the trail has vanished under the puddles and debris. My chest tightens with every breath. Cold bites at my fingertips and toes, seeping through the seams of Rhys’s coat. My hands are trembling.

And then—

CRACK.

A branch snaps overhead. I look up, instinctively, and something thick and wet and heavy slams into my shoulder.

I’m on the ground before I realize I’ve fallen, the branch beside me, pain flaring down my side. My arm throbs where it took the brunt of the blow. The air escapes my lungs in a ragged cry, and I clutch my side, gasping.

“Okay,” I whisper, voice shaky. “Okay. Okay, you’re fine. You’re okay.”

But I’m not okay.

I curl against the base of a tree, one hand pressed to my ribs, trying to breathe through the pain. My vision blurs as the rain continues to fall, colder now, like sleet. My body shakes uncontrollably.

I fumble in my coat for my phone. My fingers are numb, clumsy. I blink until the screen focuses—1% battery.

But I have cell reception. A single bar.

My heart stutters.

I open my messages and instinctively click on the one name that feels like safety.

Pine.

My thumb shakes as I type. I know I’m not thinking straight. He’s not here, he’s far away, but I’m still typing to him.

help. storm. think im hurt. near boat house.

I hit send. The bubble lingers for a second too long, and I think it’s failed. My vision goes gray at the edges.

Then—

a reply.

Hang on. I'm coming.