Page 35 of The Blood we Crave

He had his pick. And I’m not one of them.

“I—”

The sound of waves slamming into rocks takes my voice, and I quickly glance behind me. I suddenly realize why Thatcher was in no hurry at all to catch me. In my terror-infused sprint, I’d wound up at the edge of one of the many cliffs that overlook Black Sands Cove.

The edge of the jagged drop-off gets closer with every step away from him. I can see the dark water beckoning me, calling for me.

“Dead Man’s End. You know what that means?”

I quickly avert my attention away from the depths below to stare back at Thatcher, who looks like a cat about to catch a mouse. He knows he has won. He knew from the moment this game started.

“We call this off?” I offer.

I’m running out of space, out of time. The drop is only getting closer, and I can feel it in my bones.

“Nowhere else to hide, pet.” He clicks his tongue, a smirk permanently situated on his lips, somehow both feline and predatory at the same time. He lifts his phone from his pocket, rocking it back and forth, showing me I still have two minutes left.

I almost had him. I almost won.

Just two more fucking minutes.

The back of my left shoe slips a bit, and I turn to glance down. I’ve reached the end of my rope, leaving only the bottomless pit below. The wind blows my hair into my face. Pieces of wet strands become trapped in my mouth as my heart races.

I am the girl trapped in a venomous spiderweb. There’s nowhere to go.

Except down.

When I turn to face Thatcher again, he is only a few feet in front of me, full of himself and ready to collect his prize.

I shuffle both of my feet to the lip of the cliff, knowing the chances of me surviving are slim. But it’s either this or let Thatcher win. If there’s even a smidge of an opportunity for me to survive and win?

I’m going to take it.

“Thatcher.” I say his name as a whisper, the wind catching it as rain continues to soak through my clothes.

“Your last words, darling phantom?”

I bite the inside of my cheek, smothering the fear inside of me with all the surrounding water.It’s almost poetic that the past two times I’ve faced death have been while looking into Thatcher’s eyes.

Something comforting washes over me, knowing the person I’m always watching will be here to see my final moments.

I outstretch my arms, feeling the weather push me backward, nodding my head. But I see his eyes, how alert they are as they look at me, and I know he is sliding the puzzle pieces together.

“Before you start teaching me, there is something you should know.” A smile of my own works its way onto my mouth.

I’m about to die, but I don’t care.

I don’t care.

“Lyra, don’t you dare.”

But it’s too late.

“Don’t underestimate the girl willing to do anything for what she wants.”

I lean back into the empty air behind me, feeling my stomach drop as I descend towards the crashing waves below. My watery eyes make out Thatcher’s form at the cliff’s edge, peering down at me.

The rushing wind rings in my ears, and the fall feels much longer than I expected, until the feeling of water slamming against my back puts me out of my misery.

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