Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102280 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 511(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Inside the ambulance, Vivienne leaned against Brooks’s shoulder, exhausted beyond words. Her abilities felt raw, like she’d used muscles she didn’t know she had.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “For trusting me. For hearing me when I called.”
“Partners,” Brooks said. He took her hand carefully, mindful of the bruised wrists. “Always.”
The ambulance pulled away from the lighthouse, its beacon dark and silent behind them. But Vivienne could feel the difference in the air, in the spiritual energy of the place.
The lighthouse was finally at peace. Lily was at rest. The Aldrich empire was broken.
And somehow, impossibly, she and Brooks had found a way to understand each other that went deeper than words—a connection forged through danger and trust and the desperate need to save each other. He’d opened himself to her world, and in doing so, had discovered he had some small ability to sense what she sensed. Not the full gift her family carried, but something. A bridge between their two ways of knowing.
Whatever came next, they would face it together.
The ambulance lights flashed against the rain, carrying them both toward safety and whatever future awaited two people who’d learned to trust what couldn’t be measured or explained.
EIGHTEEN
brooks
The hospital waiting room smelled of industrial disinfectant and burnt coffee.
Brooks sat in a plastic chair that dug into his shoulder blades, watching rain streak down the windows. Three a.m. The dead hour when exhaustion made everything feel unreal. Across from him, Sullivan dozed with his chin on his chest, coffee cooling in his hand.
They’d been here for two hours while doctors examined Vivienne. Bruised ribs, possible concussion, lacerations on her wrists from the zip ties, that split lip Winston had given her. The physical damage was straightforward. What worried Brooks was the other kind—the toll using her abilities had taken.
He’d seen her collapse in the tunnels weeks ago after that episode with Lily’s spirit. Watched her shake and go pale after touching objects that carried too much death. Tonight she’d pushed herself further than ever before, reaching across the space between them with enough force that he’d felt her thoughts in his head.
When I drop, shoot.
Clear as if she’d spoken aloud. Clearer, maybe, because it had bypassed his ears entirely and gone straight into his mind.
Brooks rubbed his eyes. A month ago he would have called this exhaustion talking, his brain trying to rationalize split-second timing as something supernatural. But he knew what he’d experienced. Knew it the same way he’d known Vivienne was in danger before his phone rang, the same way he’d sensed her fear choking him when Winston first grabbed her.
The connection was real. He just didn’t know what to do with that information.
“Detective Harrington?” A nurse appeared in the doorway, young and tired. “Ms. Hawthorne is asking for you.”
Brooks stood, his body protesting. His shoulder ached where he’d hit the lighthouse wall ducking Winston’s shot. Tomorrow he’d have bruises. Tonight he just needed to see Vivienne.
Sullivan jerked awake. “She okay?”
“Don’t know yet. She’s asking for me.” Brooks headed for the door. “Go home, Chief. Get some sleep. I’ll call when I know more.”
“You should sleep too.”
“I will. Once I see her.”
The nurse led him through sterile corridors to a private room at the end of the hall. Before he reached the door, it opened and a woman stepped out—mid-thirties, with the same gray-green eyes as Vivienne but darker hair cut in a practical bob. She wore jeans and a fleece jacket, and her eyes were red-rimmed from crying.
Dawn. Vivienne’s cousin stopped when she saw him, her expression shifting from grief to something harder. Protective.
“Detective Harrington.”
“Ms. Hawthorne.” Brooks kept his voice neutral. “How is she?”
“Physically? She’ll heal. Bruised ribs, cuts, possible concussion.” Dawn crossed her arms. “But you’re asking the wrong question.”
“You’re right, I am. Where were you when she was kidnapped?”
Dawn’s smile faded. “I was on my way back to my house.”
Brooks waited for her to continue. Dawn signed. “Her abilities exhaust her. I can’t be here all the time to run interference. This trait our family has, it takes a lot of self-control. Don’t use her to advance your career.”
“I would never.”
“You will because it’ll become easy,” she said. “My cousin has spent nineteen years terrified she’ll end up like her mother. She’s built her entire life around managing her gift, keeping it controlled, never pushing too hard. Tonight she pushed harder than I’ve ever seen. For you.”
Brooks’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t ask her to—”
“She did it anyway. Because that’s who Vivienne is. She’ll burn herself out trying to save people.” Dawn’s eyes pinned him. “My grandmother saw something in you when you were a kid. Said you’d be Vivienne’s anchor. But anchors are supposed to keep ships from drifting into dangerous waters, not drag them into storms.”
The words hit harder than Brooks expected. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying tread carefully with her heart, Detective. She’s already halfway in love with you—I can see it. And if you’re not prepared to be what she needs, if you’re still running from whatever happened in Texas, then you need to walk away now. Before she gets hurt worse than any kidnapping could manage.”