Page 122 of The Devils They Are

Spencer doesn't say anything straight away, and I open my eyes, checking to make sure she's okay. Our eyes lock and I find watery green irises staring back at me.

"Promise you won't let go?" Her voice cracks. And suddenly, I don't see my enemy in front of me. I just see a peer, an equal, in all her raw emotion, begging me for a fraction of humanity.

"I won't let go," I tell her, squeezing her hand as a loud bang shudders the building, something exploding nearby in the flames. "You're not alone, Bexley. I got you."

Chapter forty-four

Bexley

Myheartispoundingpainfully in my chest. This is not the way I thought I'd go out.

I'm not sure what's worse—the idea of being burned alive or waiting for it, trapped with no way out.

The roaring outside grows more intense, windows smashing under fierce heat and loud banging as parts of the auditorium collapse. Terrifying creaking sounds echo around us, my eyes flitting to the ceiling as my breathing gets heavier. It still hurts to breathe—my lungs screaming in pain while the taste of ash lingers in my mouth.

Maybe the roof will fall down on top of us, crushing us to death. That would be the humane, peaceful way to go. I almost start internally begging for it, just to get this nightmare over with.

Hunter squeezes my hand again when something explodes nearby, a frightened whimper escaping my lips.

I can't help but glance around the dressing room, cataloguing all the wood inside. The cupboard in the corner, the dressing table with white lights surrounding the mirror. So much flammable material.

A buzzing sound distracts me from my thoughts for a moment, and Hunter flinches. He digs into his pocket, letting out a dry laugh as he glances at his cell. From here, I see Rylan's name easily, flashing across the screen. And it hits me—just how fucked up this is.

"Hey," Hunter answers, in an eerily calm voice. It's as if he's just casually picking up the call on a normal day.

To my surprise, he puts them on speaker, Rylan's deep voice mid-conversation as Tai rants in the background. The sound of sirens weaving through their voices should calm me, but I think my mind already knows that it's too late.

"—Out the front. Emergency services are here. Tell me where you are exactly so I can tell the Chief," Rylan demands, in a bossy tone that even in my life-or-death panic makes me still want to fight him.

Hunter holds out the cell under my chin, nodding at me. He's handing control over, knowing I have a better understanding of this building.

"We're behind the stage in the auditorium," I recite clearly, a little stunned that my tone is so strong. "At the back of the room, toward the West side of campus, there's a set of dressing rooms, accessible through a door behind the stage backdrop. Last room on the right."

There's a sharp inhale on the other end of the line before the two voices clash together, both Rylan and Tai shouting my name at the same time.

Next to me, Hunter laughs quietly to himself, shaking his head. More voices grow louder, seemingly as they get closer to firefighters, and we hear Rylan repeat our location to someone. Shit—Archie's dad.

I barely have a handle on this disaster, doing my utmost best to purposely block my emotions so I don't spiral and end up in a blubbering mess on the floor. But realizing that people who know us—people who care—are outside, about to witness our deaths, that is a hard pill to swallow.

And suddenly, it all makes sense.

I've nearly torn myself apart trying to understand why Mom locked me out, why she hid the truth of her illness from me.

Now, I know why.

It wasn't to exclude me or deny me any input.

She was protecting me from the pain of what was about to happen. Minimizing my grief so our last moments together weren't tainted with fear and sad goodbyes.

A tear rolls down my cheek, which doesn't go unnoticed by Hunter. He glances over with a concerned look, pulling the cell back toward his own face as he answers whatever Tai just said. Their conversation is muffled, the world around me distorted as I have one of those ridiculous end of life epiphanies. People always say that things become clearer at the end. I thought that was just something people said to make the grieving process easier. But right now, I don't have some profound sense of peace and acceptance like I'm allegedly meant to have.

I'm not ready to die. And I sure as hell don't want anyone hearing it through a cell.

As I take a deep breath in, my chest constricts and tightens, sending me into another coughing fit. Hunter pauses his sentence with alarm on his face as Rylan's voice booms through the speaker.

"Hunter, is she okay?!"

"She's fine," he snaps back, but his lingering gaze contradicts his tone.

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