Becca Fitzpatrick - Finale

It was full dark by the time I got home. I walked through the door, and my mom hurried out of the kitchen, looking both worried and aggravated.

“Nora! Where have you been? I called but kept getting your voice mail.”

I could have slapped my forehead. Dinner. At six. I’d completely missed it.

“I am so sorry,” I said. “I misplaced my phone in one of the stores. By the time I realized I’d lost it, it was almost dinnertime, and I had to backtrack all over town. I never found it, so now I’m not only out a phone, but I blew you out. I am so sorry. I didn’t have a way to call.” I hated that I was forced to lie to her again. I’d done it so many times it seemed like once more shouldn’t hurt, but it did. It made me feel less and less like her daughter, and more and more like Hank’s. My biological father had been an expert and unrivaled liar. And I was hardly in a position to be critical.

“You couldn’t stop and find some way to call me?” she said, not sounding for one minute like she believed my story.

“It won’t happen again. I promise.”

“I don’t suppose you were with Patch?” I didn’t miss the cynical emphasis on his name. My mother regarded Patch with as much affection as the raccoons that often wreaked havoc on our property. I didn’t doubt she fantasized about standing on the porch with a rifle perched on her shoulder, watching for him to show his face.

I inhaled, swearing this would be the last lie. If Patch and I were really going through with the staged fight, it was best to start planting seeds now. I told myself that once I took care of Mom and Vee, everything else would be downhill. “I wasn’t with Patch, Mom. We broke up.”

She raised her eyebrows, still not looking convinced.

“It just happened, and no, I don’t want to talk about it.” I started for the stairs.

“Nora—”

I turned back, and there were tears in my eyes. They were unexpected and not part of the act. I merely remembered the last time Patch and I had broken up for real, and a viselike sensation squeezed me, stealing my breath. The memory would forever haunt me. Patch had taken the best parts of me with him, leaving a lost and hollow girl behind. I didn’t want to be that girl again. Ever.

Mom’s expression eased up. She met me on the stairs, rubbed my back soothingly, and whispered in my ear, “I love you. If you change your mind and want to talk . . .”

I nodded, then went to my bedroom.

There, I told myself, trying hard to sound optimistic. One down, one to go. I wasn’t exactly lying to my mom and Vee about the breakup; I was merely doing what had to be done to keep them safe. Honesty was the best policy, most of the time. But sometimes safety trumped all, right? It seemed like a valid argument, but the thought soured in my stomach.

There was another worrisome thought scratching at the back of my mind. How long could Patch and I live a lie . . . and not let it become the truth?

Five o’clock Monday morning arrived all too soon. I smacked my alarm, cutting it off mid-beep. Then I rolled over and told myself, Two more minutes . I closed my eyes, let my mind float, saw a new dream start to take shape—and the next thing I knew, I caught a handful of clothes in the face.

“Rise and shine,” Dante said, standing over my bed in the dark.

“What are you doing in here?” I shrieked groggily, snatching my blanket and tugging it higher.

“Doing what any decent personal trainer would. Get your butt out of bed and get dressed. If you’re not in the driveway in three minutes, I’ll come back with a bucket of cold water.”

“How did you get in?”

“You left your window unlocked. Might want to break that habit. Hard to control what comes in when you give the world a free pass.”

He strolled toward my bedroom door just as I stumbled out of bed.

“Are you crazy? Don’t use the hall! My mom might hear you. A guy doing what appears to be the walk of shame out my bedroom door? I’ll be grounded for life!”

He looked amused. “For the record, I wouldn’t be ashamed.”

I stood in place a whole ten seconds after he left, wondering if I was supposed to read deeper into his words. Of course not. His line might have felt flirtatious, but it wasn’t. End of story.

I tugged on black leggings and a stretchy microfiber shirt, and slicked my hair into a ponytail. If nothing else, I’d look good while Dante ran me into the ground.

Exactly three minutes later, I met him in the driveway. I looked around, sensing the absence of something important. “Where’s your car?”

Dante punched me lightly in the shoulder. “Feeling lazy? Tsk, tsk. I thought we’d warm up with a brisk ten-mile run.” He pointed toward the densely wooded area across the street. As kids Vee and I had explored the woods, and even built a fort one summer, but I’d never taken the time to wonder how far they stretched. Apparently, at least ten miles. “After you.”

I hesitated. I didn’t feel great about running off into the wilderness with Dante. He’d been one of Hank’s top men—reason enough not to like or trust him. In hindsight, I never should have agreed to train alone with him, especially if our training arena was remote.

“After training, we should probably review the feedback I’m getting from various Nephilim groups about morale, expectations, and you,” Dante added.

After training. Meaning he didn’t intend to discard me at the bottom of an abandoned well in the next hour. Besides, Dante answered to me now. He’d sworn loyalty. No longer Hank’s lieutenant, he was now mine. He wouldn’t dare harm me.

Allowing myself the luxury of one final thought of blissful sleep, I shrugged off the fantasy and darted into the tree line. The branches stretched like a canopy overhead, shutting out what little trace of light the early sky might have had to offer. Relying on my heightened Nephilim vision, I ran hard, vaulting over fallen trees, dodging low-hanging branches, and keeping my eyes sharp for sunken rocks and other camouflaged debris. The ground was treacherously uneven, and at the speed I was traveling, one missed step could be disastrous.

“Faster!” Dante barked behind me. “Run lighter on your feet. You sound like a stampeding rhinoceros. I could find and catch you with my eyes closed!”

I took his words to heart, lifting my feet the moment they hit ground, repeating this process with every step, concentrating on making myself as noiseless and undetectable as possible. Dante raced ahead, blowing past me with ease.

“Catch me,” he ordered.

Chasing after him, I marveled at the strength and agility of my new Nephilim body. I was amazed by how clunky, slow, and uncoordinated my human body had been in comparison. My athleticism wasn’t merely improved, it was superior .

I dipped under branches, jumped over potholes, and darted around boulders as though I were on an obstacle course I’d long ago memorized. And while I felt like I was running fast enough to lift off and soar into the sky at any moment, my pace lagged behind Dante’s. He moved like an animal, gaining the momentum of a predator chasing down its next meal. Soon I’d lost track of him altogether.

I slowed, straining my ears. Nothing. A moment later he bounded out of the darkness ahead.

“That was pathetic,” he criticized. “Again.”

I spent the next two hours sprinting after him and hearing that same directive repeated over and over: Again. And again. Still not right—do it again .

I was about to call it quits—my leg muscles trembled with exhaustion and my lungs felt scraped raw—when Dante circled back. He gave me a congratulatory pat on the back. “Good work. Tomorrow we’ll move to strength training.”