Chapter 14

Christina's POV "Sure." I headed toward the small storage closet next to the stairwell. Because clearly I've been promoted from 'girl who can't reach high things' to 'tool fetcher'. I swept the walls with my phone's flashlight, like something out of a ghost hunting show. The storage closet was a monument to hoarding—boxes stacked precariously, tools scattered across shelves. I spotted the pliers on the top shelf, because of course they were. I stretched my body, rising on my tiptoes and reaching for them, like auditioning for "Swan Lake." Just as I grabbed them, my foot rolled over some suspicious round object.I yelped, lost my balance, and flailed my arms like a human car dealership balloon in a storm. The floor was covered with nails. Actual nails, sharp and numerous.The kind that would absolutely ruin my chances of ever wearing open-toe heels again. But the pain never came. Instead, a pair of strong arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me upright as if I weighed less than a bag of