Page 38 of Chalk Outline

“Hey...” he lowers his voice, inching closer. “The first night is always the hardest. Getting used to being alone, in a new place, try not to overthink it.”

It’s easier said than done. The more I chase answers, the further it seems to slip away.

“I’ll be fine. I’m not as fragile as I look.”

Nodding, he crosses his arms over his chest and sighs. “You have ten seconds to climb upstairs and wave to me from the balcony. Nine…”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” My nostrils flare when he shrugs his shoulders. “I should have tased your ass when I had the chance.”

“Eight.”

I glance around to ensure the snake is out of sight. “You’re insufferable,” I scoff.

“Seven.” He cocks his head to the side, comically, mockingly, and it sets all my nerves on fire. “Debatable.”

It’s good that it will be just me, this vast forest, and the bear. I will be able to focus on the present. “I hope I’ll never see you again.”

“Six.” He sighs, almost rolling his eyes, but instead, they bore into me. If that’s his intimidation tactic, it doesn’t work on me. “Five. You shouldn’t waste your wishes on dumb requests.”

“I will be locked in this tower for a year. Alone. With no one to talk to. Listening to my dumb requests is the least you can do.” I scoop up my backpack from the dirt and head to the tower while that fucker keeps counting.

“Four.”

“Three!” I shout, pissed and fucking starving. I have no idea how long I was out, and my stomach grumbles like a little monster.

“I’m desperate to know what you think of me.” The disinterest in his tone echoes. “Two. This job will be much more interesting than I thought,” he murmurs, and I stop in my tracks. It’s not just what he says that freezes me in place, but how he says it—so confidently, with a hint of smugness. Familiar and harmless.

I whip my head around. “What did you just say?” My lips stay parted as I swipe my eyes up and down, taking him all in.

“One.” His brows hike up. “Time’s up, get inside.”

I swallow the thickness in my throat and open the bag with rough movements. Fishing out the key, I head inside the steel door, letting it shut behind me as I grunt.

My eyes land on a peaceful window nook right in front of me.

I cross the gray marble floor to a cozy kitchenette on the left. The tower is rounded and spacious. A huge fluffy rug rests in the center. On the right is a library, a study desk with art supplies, and a gramophone. A stack of yoga equipment is piled in another spot.

I approach the crescent-shaped library, brushing each book on the shelf before me. I have always loved reading and drawing. Stories were my only escape, a portal to the outside world.

Glancing back at the door, I walk to the stairs beside it. As I descend to peek into the basement, my hand glides along the wall, searching for the light switch—bingo—I flick it up.

Cans of food and sealed packages of dried food are neatly stacked on the shelves. A large fridge sits in the far corner of the room. To my right, guns, rifles, and work tools decorate the walls. The boxes below are labeledammunition, medicine, and an aid kit.

My lopsided grin expands.

I launch myself up the stairs to the top floor. The same fluffy rug is in the center of this room, too. There’s a large closet on the right and a king-sized bed on the left, and I swear it’s calling to me. I drop my backpack on top and sink into the soft mattress, tossing my head backward.

A long sigh escapes my lips.

I look to my right, where the bathroom door hangs wide open, and then to my left, at the floor-to-ceiling windows. I push to stand, slide the glass door aside, and step onto the spaciousbalcony. There’s a couch with blankets, a coffee table with binoculars, and a radio on top.

Why would I need a communication device if I’m supposed to be alone?

I brush the thought away and move closer to the railings that overlook the stunning greenery surrounding me. The ocean in the distance transforms into a small stream between the towers on either side. It stretches for miles to my right.

It’s stunning.

I’ve only seen places like this in pictures.