Page 41 of Chalk Outline
“Wait,” I urge as my fingers caress the handle. “It has your initials. It must be special.”
“A family heirloom, but it’s yours now.” He smiles. “Rule number three: If you’re in danger, don’t hesitate.”
Blinking back to reality, there’s nothing on the balcony except the absence I feel daily.
What is he trying to tell me?
I step onto the balcony after a warm shower and a hearty meal. Silence prevails—one that feels unfamiliar. Even the noisy creatures have bid their farewells.
A blanket of stars glows overhead—a blend of navy blue and indigo.
The warm lights on the balcony shine bright and dreamy. I feel like the tower is a star, surrounded by total darkness.
No matter where I am, this is the farthest I’ve ever traveled from home. Completely and utterly alone.
I still wish he were here with me.
A shiver rakes through me, and I tuck the fur coat I found in the closet into my body.
I’m supposed to watch the area and ensure no one wanders around until I do what I came here to do: find answers. The underground prison is buried beneath it all and has two entrances: one through land and the other through a stream. I memorized its layout well enough to know where to go without ever seeing it, but that’s all I know, which makes it the tricky part. I don’t know precisely where those entrances are located, and that’s what I need to find out.
It’s going to be challenging.
I have no idea how to do that when I’m not supposed to leave this tower, and my gut tells me it’s probably not here. Too convenient.
What is the real purpose of this job? It’s a nice way to lie low, far away, and alone, playing survival in a secluded area, but it’s just… too vague.
What does that even mean?
For all I know, this is a safe house, far away, where no one can findme.Grandma’s hesitance made me question and rethink the reason behind it even more. What if that was her plan? Faking it to make me run the other way faster.
She’s Romina Bishop, after all. No one should underestimate her. Once again, I’m sucked into her web of lies, trying to find a sliver of the truth.
I glance over my shoulder at the couch where I left my rifle, then back at the opposite tower just in time to see it light up. The bottom and top levels illuminate first, then the balcony lights flash brightly.
I stiffen.
My pulse races wildly, and I feel its frantic movement as I gulp.
No one is supposed to be here.
The radio behind me crackles to life, and heavy breaths come through. I rush to grab it and listen closely.
The sound disappears within seconds.
I press the push-to-talk button. “Hello, is someone there?” I wait for a reply, my eyes glued to the balcony door on the opposite side.
I’m met with silence.
“Hello,” I try again.
“I’m here. Your favorite person.” A husky voice grabs my attention, and my heart nearly stops.Rule number four. His dark silhouette comes into view as he slides the door open and paces toward the railings.
Jason…
There’s something intimidating about the way he stands in front of me. Our balconies aren’t very far from each other—aboutthirty feet away, I presume. The gap between us is small, yet it feels so distant.
Blood stains his shirt and open jacket. The fabric is torn and scraped in certain areas, as if he fought with a… bear.
