Page 47 of Inside the Wicked

Risk, condemnation, or cowardice.

Micah, the kid, or me.

It’s the third time I’ve stood holding this revolver. The kid is around fifteen now. I’m trying to lean on odds, instincts, the fucking impossible, to deduce if this could be the time he’s placed a bullet in the chamber.

I’m so sorry, Ana.

I want the life we painted together during that first date I refused to believe in the tucked-away Italian restaurant. It was the first day of the beginning of our lives, and we fucking deserve to see life through together.

“Fine—”

I lift the barrel toward Micah, and Ishoot.

Again.

Again.

Again.

Eachclickis agony and flashes of Ana.

Again.

Agony.

Again.

Ana.

The tension in me pours out when I’m left still standing, facing off with Micah, and I drop the gun, bracing on my knees with violent trembles.

“Well, that was stupid,” Micah says.

I snap, lunging for him, but I’m dragged back before I can even get close. One strike to my temple, and I black out.

CHAPTER 20

Anastasia

The atmosphere of Lumina has never felt so dark, so cloudy. Silas doesn’t speak; neither do I. We just sit, waiting.

Kenna doesn’t come.

CHAPTER 21

Anastasia

My skin feels like it’s rippling with shallow flame. I haven’t been able to eat much for days, and I’m so tired, getting so weak, and it’s only my adrenaline pushing me forward.

I sit in the rooftop restaurant with Jacob, losing my confidence. I can feel it slipping from my grasp like the cold water I’m drinking. My stomach can’t handle anything else when I’m consciously trying not to excuse myself to the bathroom to throw up.

“You don’t look well, darling,” Jacob says. I believe his concern, but only because he’d lose interest in sickly things.

“Just a bit of flu,” I lie.

He’s not fully convinced, but he doesn’t push.

“Perhaps this will lift your spirits,” he says, pushing an envelope toward me.

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