Page 97 of Breaking Ophelia

“Yeah,” I say. “If we all go down, there’s no one left to rewrite the rules.”

Rhett makes a sound, half laugh, half sob. “You’re a better strategist than I gave you credit for.”

“Let me know when you’re out.”

“Always,” he says. “And—Caius?”

“Yeah?”

“If you need me, call. Day or night.”

I almost say thank you, but I bite it back. “Don’t die, Rhett.”

He hangs up without another word.

I stand in the cold, letting it bite through my skin. I want it to hurt.

Inside, Ophelia is watching. She mouths:Are you okay?

I nod.

She opens the door, her hair whipping around her face. “Everything good?”

“Better than it could be,” I say.

She steps onto the patio, her feet bare and pink from the cold. She doesn’t care. She just leans into me, her arms around my waist, her face tucked under my chin.

I hold her there, in the thin winter sun, the wind off the lake slicing through us both.

There’s a future out there, somewhere. Maybe it’s ugly. Maybe it’s short.

But at least it’s ours.

For once, that’s enough.

I turn, bury my face in her neck, and breathe her in.

“I’ll never let go,” I say, words so quiet I’m not sure if she hears. “Things may seem shit right now, but they’ll get better. We have options.”

Suddenly, she giggles. “I’m done with it all, I’ve reached my limit of drudgery, I want to live. To be free. To have fun!” She pauses, her eyes bright, cheeks pink as she stares at me. “You know, I always thought safe houses were ugly as fuck, but this view is wild. Let’s go swim!”

“Are you crazy? It’s cold!”

“Scared of me seeing your dick when it’s small and wrinkly?”

I grab her and bite at her neck before chuckling. “Nah, if you wanna go swimming, little vixen, let’s go.”

She hollers and pulls on my arm and off we race down to the shore.

She kicks off her shoes, skin already blue, and gives me a look. A dare.

“Bet you won’t,” she says.

I strip out of my boots, then my socks, then roll up my jeans and wade in after her. The water is liquid fucking pain, needles up the shins, but she’s already ankle-deep, shrieking as she hops over the waves.

She splashes at me, pelts my chest with slush. I lunge, grab her by the waist, and haul her up. She screams, kicking, but her laughter is wild, honest. I dump her into a shallow pool, then dive in after, knocking her over. She comes up fighting, hair plastered to her cheeks, mouth open with shock.

We wrestle in the water, rolling over each other, until I pin her to the sand. She’s shivering, but she’s still smiling, still clawing at my arms like she wants to tear the flesh off.