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Somewhere out there, Elias Dane was watching this.
And I wanted him furious.
“Vivi, come on,” Jessa called, her voice strained over the gusts. “This is the part of the horror movie where the best friend dies because she didn’t leave when she had the chance.”
I just smiled and stepped away from the beam we’d been sitting on, gripping the nearest support cable. The steel was cold and slightly slick with sea spray. My shoes slid for a half-second before catching.
Jessa stood slowly, clearly trying not to freak out. “Where are you even going?”
“Up,” I said, jerking my chin toward the sloped backbone of the bridge. “I want the skyline.”
“You mean the place with no railing, no ledge, and wind that could snap your neck like a breadstick?” She looked me over like I’d lost my last marble. “Jesus, Viv. This isn’t like base jumping with gear. This is death if you twitch the wrong way.”
I didn’t answer.
Because she was right. And I didn’t care.
My palms were already stinging from gripping the narrow struts, but I pulled myself up higher anyway, scaling the exposed trusswork like it was a jungle gym. The city dropped away beneath me, the water glittering like broken glass. The sound of traffic on the bridge above felt distant—like another world. Like nothing could touch me here.
Jessa’s phone was still filming. She angled it up, catching me silhouetted against the electric spill of Charleston’s lights.
“Vivi, I swear to God,” she muttered. “You are not gonna die in a tank top. That’s an insult to dancers everywhere.”
“Then keep filming,” I called over my shoulder. “Might be the best footage you ever get.”
Below us, a car slowed. Then another.
A man got out, squinting up toward the bridge support.
A woman next to him pulled out her phone. “Are they climbing it?” she gasped. “Oh, my God.”
I kept going. Higher. Into the sharp belly of the sky.
The wind punched harder now, gusting in surges that made the bridge hum beneath my feet. I braced against the swaying steel, laughing like I had any business enjoying this.
Jessa climbed after me but stopped a few feet down, crouching low. “Vivi. Seriously. You’ve made your point, okay? He’s definitely watching. Half of Charleston is watching.”
That’s when I heard it.
The low thrum of rotors.
A news helicopter.
Jessa turned her head sharply, following the sound. “Shit.”
The spotlight came next—sweeping out from above like the eye of God, locking on us with blinding precision.
“God, Vivi,” she hissed. “We are so screwed.”
I froze for half a breath, squinting up at the floodlight, the wind roaring past me, my heartbeat matching its pace.
And then I grinned.
Good.
Let the whole city watch.
Let Elias watch.