Page 97 of Forever My Saint

Saint continues shooting into the darkness, and when his gun clicks, hinting he’s out of bullets, I frantically offer him mine. He accepts and continues to shoot. I don’t know where the rocket launcher is, but it makes sense for Saint to be able to actually see his attacker before firing that thing.

Just as quickly as the madness begun, it suddenly ends.

My ears ring from the damaging sound, but now that it’s deadly quiet, I suddenly prefer the noise.

“Are you all right?” Saint asks in a panic.

“Yes,” I reply. “What’s happening?”

Pavel’s voice echoes from our left. He says something in Russian.

“We’re okay,” Saint yells. “I have Willow. Zoey?”

“I’m here,” Zoey answers from what seems like miles away.

“I’m with Sara,” Max shouts.

I feel Saint’s chest shudder in relief with an exhale.

“Why did they stop?” Zoey asks.

“I don’t know,” Saint replies.

Now that I’m not cowering in fear for my life, I realize we are one man down. “Ingrid?” I call out.

There is no reply.

“Ingrid?” Pavel repeats, but we’re greeted with more silence.

“Fuck,” Saint curses, slowly unwrapping himself from me.

He comes to a quick stand, then offers me his hand. The moment we connect, I sigh, thankful he’s okay.

“Where is Ingrid?” I ask, looking around for any sign of her.

Saint kisses my forehead and frantically runs his hands down my face, appearing to want to ensure I’m really okay.I grip his wrists, stopping him.

“Where is Ingrid?” I repeat.

His astute eyes scan our surroundings, but he doesn’t need to tell me he doesn’t know; I can see the hopelessness reflected in them.

Pavel, Max, Sara, and Zoey come running toward us. “Has anyone seen Ingrid?” Saint asks them.

They all shake their heads.

My skin prickles—something wicked is coming.

A succession of lights flickers on, one by one, illuminating the night sky. The snow comes to life; the whiteness so crisp, I have to shield my eyes.Once I’ve adjusted as best as I can, I slowly peer around me. Now that my environment is lit up like a Christmas tree on crack, I can see through the gaps in the tall trees. The winter has stripped them bare, adding to the creepy scene before me.

What I witness, though, is far eerier than anything I could have imagined.

Saint reads me like a book and grips my bicep. “Let me go!” I shout, shaking him off. But he makes it clear he won’t do anything of the sort when he tightens his hold. “What are you doing?”

“?????, stay.”

“Are you mad?” I shriek, still fighting him. “No. I won’t.”

“We will do her more harm if we don’t!” he growls, a warning that has me yielding. Time stands still as I watch something I don’t understand, but like a voyeur, I can’t look away.

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