Romance

  Celena&#39;s Perspective
  I was exhausted. My body felt like a collection of loosely connected parts, but my mind was painfully, unnervingly clear.
  We were two people now, a single unit, doing something we had to finish ourselves.
  I was so grateful to Jacob. The feeling was a heavy, precious weight settled in the softest part of my heart, welling up even before the love did.
  He had seen right through me. He&#39;d seen the still-boiling, stubborn magma beneath the thin layer of ice I&#39;d tried to freeze over.
  He had suggested this final search. For me. And for his own tangled knot of feelings about Brett—the guilt, the sense of unfinished duty.
  This was my last hope.
  Not the hopeless fantasy of bringing a laughing, hair-ruffling Brett home. The rational part of me, the part that had learned to view the world through a lens of icy clarity, had already pronounced a death se

  Jacob&#39;s Perspective
  The smell in the motel room was a mix of mildew and cheap industrial cleaner that made the back of my throat itch. I sat in the wobbly chair by the window, watching Celena. She was curled on the edge of the bed, meticulously cleaning her dagger under the sickly yellow glow of the lampshade. The blade caught the light in cold, sharp arcs. Her movements were focused, but I knew her mind was miles away. A faint frown creased her brow.
  She was worrying. I needed to distract her, or at least remind her I was right here, no matter what.
  I was about to say something stupid—maybe ask if she wanted to brave the plastic-looking donuts from the vending machine downstairs—when my phone buzzed in my pocket. Not a call. A text. From Lily. The sound made both of us look up, our eyes meeting across the dim room.
  “Lily,” I said, pulling out the phone and unlocking it. Ce

  Lily&#39;s Perspective
  The chaotic glow of emergency lights and the rising black smudge of smoke on the interstate grew smaller and smaller in the distance, finally swallowed by the rolling horizon. Xavier guided the SUV down an exit ramp, turning onto a narrow country road lined with overgrown weeds and sprawling oak trees. The world went abruptly quiet, the silence filled only by the steady shush of tires on asphalt and the subdued breathing of the five of us.
  Silence settled over the cabin like a heavy, damp blanket.
  My knuckles ached, bone-white from gripping the steering wheel. The order to turn around and retreat had come from my mouth, but each word had felt like a barbed hook being dragged from my throat.
  I knew it was right… we’d had no real choice. I was the leader of this team. The safety of everyone in this vehicle, the very survival of our entire pack, rested on my

Celena&#39;s Perspective
  I was exhausted. My body felt like a collection of loosely connected parts, but my mind was painfully, unnervingly clear.
  We were two people now, a single unit, doing something we had to finish ourselves.
  I was so grateful to Jacob. The feeling was a heavy, precious weight settled in the softest part of my heart, welling up even before the love did.
  He had seen right through me. He&#39;d seen the still-boiling, stubborn magma beneath the thin layer of ice I&#39;d tried to freeze over.
  He had suggested this final search. For me. And for his own tangled knot of feelings about Brett—the guilt, the sense of unfinished duty.
  This was my last hope.
  Not the hopeless fantasy of bringing a laughing, hair-ruffling Brett home. The rational part of me, the part that had learned to view the world through a lens of icy clarity, had already pronounced a death sentence on that tiny possibility.
  My last hope was for an answer. A period. A clean goodbye. 

Chapter 237