Page 59 of Midnight at the Magnolia

Celeste in peripheral vision.

Both displaying combat readiness.

Both likely armed.

“This room becomes a fortress until I hear the truth,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “Every last bitter drop of it.”

“Watch her,”Lauren warns.“She’s about to move.”

For a moment, the room is frozen in a tableau of tension. The only sound is our ragged breathing and the distant hum of the diner’s refrigerators. I see the decision form in Celeste’s eyes a split second before she acts. The same look Lauren had, that final night.

Then, faster than I can react, Celeste moves.

She’s a blur of motion, her movements fluid and precise. Training kicks in as I catalog even this:

Military grade hand-to-hand.

Advanced disarmament technique.

Killing efficiency in every move.

Beautiful even now, God help me.

Before I can blink, she has closed the distance between us. Her hand shoots out, fingers wrapping around my wrist with surprising strength. I feel a sharp twist, pain shooting up my arm. The gun clatters to the floor, the sound echoing in the small space.

“Just like I did,”Lauren’s voice says sadly.“Love makes us hesitate.”

But Celeste isn’t done. In one smooth motion, she spins, her body pressing against mine. Her elbow connects with my solar plexus, driving the air from my lungs. As I gasp, struggling to breathe, she sweeps my legs out from under me.

I hit the floor hard, my head cracking against the linoleum. Stars explode behind my eyes. Through the haze of pain and shock, I see Celeste standing over me, my gun in her hand. Her face is a mask of regret and determination.

“I’m sorry, Ethan,” she says, her eyes shining with unshed tears. The gun looks wrong in her delicate hands, hands I’ve held, hands I’ve kissed. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

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