Page 90 of The Thinnest Air
“She’s not here,” he says, jerking me toward a back room. “If that’s what you’re wondering.”
My fingertips are frozen, and I lift them to my lips in an attempt to breathe warmth onto them, but he shoves me along. Stopping in front of a tapestry hanging from a wall in the center of a dim hallway, he pushes it aside to reveal a hidden door.
He twists the knob, and my stomach drops.
A moment later, I’m staring at a metal folding chair resting in the middle of an empty, windowless room, a single naked lightbulb hanging on a chain from the ceiling. He pushes me backward, and the chair breaks my fall.
Crouching, he retrieves a handful of clear plastic flex-cuffs, taking his time looping them through one another and around the legs of the chair before connecting them with the one around my wrists. It’s an elaborate setup, one designed to keep me from moving, let alone leaving.
“There.” He exhales, admiring his work with a proud glint in his dark eyes.
Pulling against the restraints, I check to see how much wiggle room I have, refusing to believe this is the end. I’ll figure something out. The second he leaves me alone, it’s on.
The human spirit is inherently resilient, as is the will to live.
“I’m amazed at how calm you are, Greer,” he says. “Your sister, she cried a bit, but you ... you’re this steely beast of a woman, from that impenetrable stare to your inability to show an ounce of emotion when you’re seconds from the end of your life.”
He’s trying to scare me.
He wants me to think he’s about to kill me so I’ll give up, but I refuse to let him rattle me. I won’t give him that privilege. I won’t give him what he wants.
Reaching behind himself, he retrieves his gun from his concealed-carry holster, watching me with an amused glint as he takes his time drawing it out. With both hands clasped around the grip and one finger steady on the trigger, he smirks.
Oh, shit.
My breath quickens, the skin beneath my arms growing clammy and damp. The knots in my stomach twist, and my vision blurs.
In my final moment, the only thing I think of is my sister. And how I failed her.
“You couldn’t let it go, could you?” he asks. “All you had to do was shut the fuck up about the stalker, but you kept pushing and pushing. All those stupid questions. It never fucking ends with you.” Ronan winces. “I’m not a murderer, Greer. I’ve never hurt anyone in my life. I want you to know, this is all your doing. I have to do this because if I don’t, you’ll ruin everything, and this would all be for nothing.”
“Ronan,” I say, knowing full well I can’t reason with crazy, but I’ll be damned if I die without trying. “You’re a handsome guy. You’re successful and nice and charming. You can have any woman you want—”
“Well aware.” He sighs, dropping the gun to his side and releasing a steady breath. “You’re not going to talk me out of this, so I guess ... if you have anything you’d like me to pass along to your sister ... say it now.”
A million memories float to the surface of my mind before scattering like leaves in the wind.
Meredith is my best friend. My sister. My soul mate. We’ve been through hell and back. I’d do anything for her and she for me. There’s nothing I can say in this moment to do any of that justice.
A thick tear slides down my cheek, settling between my lips. The salty taste of defeat is one I’ve never known until this moment.
“You’ll take care of her,” I say, my stare as cold and hardened as my bitter soul. I’m not asking. “You’ll make sure she’s safe and happy.”
Ronan scoffs. “Don’t fucking insult me, Greer. I’m not a monster.”
“You can justify this all you want, but you couldn’t be more wrong,” I say. “You are a monster. You’re selfish. And crazy. And she’s never going to love you the way you want her to.”
He squints at me, lifting and pointing his gun. “Enough. Stop talking.”
Ronan racks the slide.
My world is suspended.
Closing my eyes tight, I savor my final breath.
CHAPTER 43
MEREDITH
