of anything.” Jihoon winked. “And you didn’t answer my question.”
Miyoung grinned as she glanced toward their friends. Somin was yelling curses as Junu chased her on the bike.
“It’s definitely nothing like I imagined,” she mused.
“And?”
“It’s perfect.” She smiled as the sound of laughter lifted in the air around her.
She linked her hand with Jihoon’s.
She didn’t know how long she had in this world. A hundred days, a hundred months, or a hundred years.
In this moment, as she watched her friends and held on to Jihoon, she was happy. And she would keep finding her happiness in each moment, until she had no more moments to spend.
EPILOGUE
THE FOREST WAS dark despite the full moon. The branches now held so much foliage that it created a barrier between the earth and sky. The moonlight no longer hurt her, but still, Miyoung was grateful for the protection.
She’d avoided the woods after losing her mother. But she’d missed her safe haven. The memories this place held were both comfort and pain. And now, as she picked her way over twisting roots and through reaching branches, she breathed in deeply. The scent of dirt and wood calmed her nerves.
She loosened her grip on the flowers she carried. She didn’t want to break their delicate stems. Was it useless to bring such a token? Yena had hated flowers; she said they made a mess when they died. But her mother couldn’t voice her disapproval of such a gift. Not anymore.
Miyoung swiped at her eyes, stinging with tears.
As she approached the maehwa tree that commemorated her mother, she blinked, wondering if her tear-filled vision was playing tricks on her.
She squeezed her eyes shut and opened them again. But it was still there. A dark X burned into the tree, still smoking from the ugly brand.
“Miyoung-ah.”
She whipped around at the whisper. It had sounded so close, like someone spoke into her ear.
The forest behind her was empty. The shadows of tree branches twisting ominously.
“You are not free.”
She spun toward the maehwa tree and stepped back in surprise. The branches reached out, like sharp wooden hands. Grasping at her. She tried to run, but her feet sank into the ground. Roots rose to twist around her legs. Squeezing so hard they cut off her circulation.
The branches took her into their cruel embrace. They bit into her arms. Rough bark rubbing at her skin.
It’s a dream, Miyoung told herself. This isn’t real. You have to wake up.
She tried to push free, but the branches held tight. She tried to kick, but her feet were encased in dirt and roots.
This isn’t real, she repeated to herself. But still her heart sped. Tears fell down her cheeks. She tore futilely at her prison until her fingers bled.
As the branches closed around her, she became surrounded by darkness.
“Miyoung-ah. Leave.”
“I can’t.” She couldn’t breathe. If this was a dream, why couldn’t she breathe?
“If you stay, you’ll die.”
“No!” She clawed at the branches with bloody fingers.
“You think it’s over, but it’s not. You think you’re free, but you’re not.”
Out of the darkness a pale face appeared, beautiful and cold. Yena’s eyes captured Miyoung’s.
Miyoung jerked awake, struggling against the tangle of sheets that had twisted around her. As she remembered the dream, she knew that wasn’t all it was.
She still felt like she couldn’t breathe. She thumped a fist against her chest to clear her lungs. She finally wheezed in air.
Squeezing her eyes shut again, she could still picture her mother’s face. Fierce. Cold. Almost threatening.
It was more than just a dream. It was a warning.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
So many people contributed to bringing Wicked Fox to life. I will be forever grateful to them for helping make my dreams come true!
First, I want to thank my amazing agent, Beth Phelan. You believed in my story even during moments when I thought it was too difficult to bring to life. You also held me to a high standard that pushed me to grow as a writer. Your tireless enthusiasm and amazing insight helped me make a story even I didn’t realize I could tell. You have given so much hope to so many diverse creators and I feel lucky every day to have you on my team!
I also want to thank my editor, Stacey Barney. I was a fan of your work long before I was gifted with the chance to work with you. Your faith in my story has given me a boost every time