below. Gentle hills covered in dead, beige grass and dotted with naked, spooky trees. A worn cobblestone walkway. If I fall from this far up, what are the odds I’ll survive? My stomach clenches as fear flows from my core through my entire being. My heart skitters around my rib cage, making my thoughts fuzzy.
“Charlotte?”
The familiar voice is like a light in the darkness. Relief floods me. But only for a moment.
Grady stills at Ricardo’s call. Leaning forward, he hauls me a few inches farther over the edge. “Stay quiet, or I’ll make this slow and painful.”
It’s already too slow and too painful.
Footsteps approach, and the greenhouse door opens.
Frozen in place, I weigh my options. Stay still and hope I can overcome Grady on my own. Fight and scream and hope Ricardo gets here before Grady can finish pitching me over the edge.
Rearing up again, I twist in an attempt to see where Ricardo is. I can’t see anything on the roof because of the angle Grady’s forcing my body into, but the greenhouse must be blocking Ricardo’s view of us. Otherwise he’d already have Grady on the ground. I know it with everything in me.
Grady stops my backward arching, shoving me down once more with a forearm across my back. His scorching, rank breath hits my skin, making revulsion roil in my throat.
The greenhouse light flicks on. Grady must have turned it off after he knocked me out.
“Char? I found your shoe. I know you’re up here somewhere. Gul told me where you were heading. Please talk to me.”
Surprise and relief hit me at once. Gul’s still alive!
Grady curses low. Harsh fingers dimple my flesh. Leaving marks of his anger on my skin.
Adrenaline shoots through my veins as I struggle against my attacker. Kick my legs. Pinwheel my arms. With renewed energy, I scream. “Ricardo! Help!”
Grady’s blunt arms wrap around my waist. With a heave, he lifts me up, suspending me over the edge of the building. His long arms are surprisingly strong, but I’m already slipping through his grasp. He won’t be able to keep this hold on me for more than a few seconds.
My arms hang below me, fingers splayed. If I fall now, it’s over. Everything I worked for will be erased. I’ll be just one more fatality at the academy. Notable only in my death.
An image of myself lying still on the pavement below flashes through my mind’s eye like a premonition. This is it. I’m going to die.
With the realization comes a moment of clarity. I’m not going down without a hell of a fight. Bellowing, I kick out my legs. Reach.
Just as Grady lets go, I lock my legs around his waist. He yells in fear as his added weight propels us over the side of the academy.
“No!” Ricardo shouts from a few feet away.
Grady and I fall. Spin through the air as we both scramble. Try to grab onto the side of the building. But we’re too far from the intricate facade to grasp it. Darkened windows gape as we plummet toward the ground and almost certain death.
Blood rushes through my ears, blocking out all other noise.
Grady slips from between my ankles, screaming. His face distorted in terror.
With immense effort, I reach out and take hold of the front of Grady’s shirt.
We crash through the naked boughs of the nearest tree, its brittle limbs tugging at my clothes and scraping red traces into my skin. My wrist slams against a thicker branch with a crack, and pain shoots along my arm.
The hard, frozen ground meets us with a crunch as we smash into one of the bushes. Twigs snap and scratch over me like needle-sharp claws, igniting my skin with a dull burn.
My attacker lies underneath me, splayed out over the flattened center of the shrubbery. His eyes are shut and one of his legs is bent at a sickening angle, but he’s still breathing.
Gasping, I try to catch a breath, but all of the air has whooshed out of my chest. It’s as if a weight is compressing my chest, rendering my lungs unable to expand.
As soon as I get a gulp of air, I recoil. Scrambling off him and away, afraid he’ll lunge at me like the villain in a horror movie. My heart batters my ribs, but I can’t peel my eyes off the unmoving form sprawled over the ground. Pain lances up my arm. One of my wrists feels like it’s been shot through with a nail gun,