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In a split second, his eyes find mine. He stops dead in his tracks. His lips part on a broken gasp, and relief tears across his face so plainly it hurts to look at. It’s like he can’t believe I’m real, like he’s forgotten everything he came here to do.

Relief surges and almost knocks me off balance. My throat tightens from the sudden, unbearable need to run to him.

As angry as I’ve been, as bruised as my trust feels, my body still recognizes Edwin as safety. As the one person who comes for me when the monsters are closing in.

The gun dips as he stares at me.

And Evelyn, standing beside me with my blood smeared all over her, smiles like she’s been expecting this.

She moves to stand directly in front of me, positioning my body behind hers so Edwin has no clean shot.

“What timing you have,” she says, and she lifts her voice to the pews. “Get him.”

The men in red surge upward while the women slide out of the way. Edwin doesn’t hesitate. The gun fires. Then fires again and again. People scatter, red robes creating a sea of blood moving through the church. One falls. Another collapses into the aisle. Someone cries out in shock that almost sounds offended, as if violence is only acceptable when it’s being done to a girl tied up and helpless.

A familiar face drops to his knees, hands lifting instinctively to his chest. Officer Miller. It’s a small satisfaction seeing the terror in his eyes after he didn’t care to help me escape mine.

I hold my breath, unable to do anything but watch the chaos. My mind tries to understand too many truths at once. The insanity of it all. The Boltons, the church, the police. All the places I reached for safety have led to the same darkness.

But Edwin took that darkness and gave me a guiding light.

The building groans around us. Smoke begins to sweep in, faint at first, curling in the air as a warning.

Then it thickens. Orange flames flicker beyond the stained-glass windows, and the realization hits that there is no stopping what Edwin started out there.

Fire crawls along the edges of the church like snakes trying to get inside. Heat rushes in, filling the sanctuary, pressing against my skin. The air grows heavy, and my lungs struggle to take in a breath.

Frank rushes to Evelyn, grabbing her arm. “Leave her,” he hisses. “Let’s go.”

She doesn’t even look at him. Her eyes are stuck on Edwin, fury sharpening her beautiful face.

“Don’t just stand there!” she snaps at the few men left who haven’t run away or died.

Two of them rush Edwin, reaching for his arms. Pain twists his face, but he fights with pure rage. He tears free, shoving one man into a pew, the wood cracking with the impact. Then he swings the gun like a club and the other man goes down.

He charges towards the altar. Towards me.

Frank is in his path, and Edwin grabs him by the shirt, ready to crush him with his bare hands. Then Evelyn’s hand slams into my back. She shoves me off the small platform, and the rope catches my weight before I can prepare for it.

Pain snaps through my throat and everything goes white. My feet scramble for the floor, toes searching desperately for the box, for anything solid. I can’t find a surface.

I’m hanging.

I can’t breathe.

The sound that comes out of me is nothing but a useless wheeze.

I wrench my wrists against the rope behind my back, twisting hard enough to loosen flakes of dried blood from my skin.

A new panic surges.

Edwin releases Frank instantly. One moment his hands are full of vengeance, and the next he abandons it for me. He reaches me in two strides, arms wrapping around my waist, lifting my body enough to ease the terrible pressure at my throat.

Air rushes back into me, and it hurts. I cough, choking on smoke, unable to get a clean breath.

“Hold on,” he says, his voice raw with fear. “Hold on, baby.”

He tugs at the rope, loosening it from my neck with frantic hands. My feet find the floor, but my knees nearly buckle before I catch my balance.