What if all it takes to solve all my problems, rid myself of the monster, extinguish this flame, and see my family again is just one small step, followed by another?

A handful of steps toward their warm, welcoming arms.

A handful of steps away from Roman, Haven, the twins, Ava, and the horrible mess that I’ve made.

A handful of steps toward the peace that I seek.

I mean, seriously, what could it hurt? Surely I’ll find my family all waiting for me—just like you see on all those afterlife shows on TV?

I grasp the rope tighter and push myself to my feet, my legs shaky, unstable, as I lean forward ever so slightly and strain to get a better view. Wondering just how far I’d have to go before I’d reach the point of no return. Remembering how Riley claimed to make it about halfway, before she turned right back around and went looking for me, only to get so confused by the mist, she couldn’t find it again—or at least not for a while anyway.

But even if I did decide to keep going, make my way clear across to the other side, would the final destination be the same for me as it was for them? Or would it be more like a freight train suddenly switching its tracks, leading me toward the eternal abyss of the Shadowland instead of the sweet ever after?

I take a deep breath and shift, lifting my foot off the wet soggy ground, just about to make a move when I’m suddenly overcome by a soothing wave of calm—a peaceful rush that can only mean one thing—that only one person can yield in me. A calm so opposite Damen’s tingle and heat, I’m not the least bit surprised when I turn to find Jude beside me.

“You know where that leads, right?” He motions toward the gently swaying bridge, struggling to keep his voice crisp, clear, but the nervous tremor reveals all.

“I know where it leads for other people.” I shrug, glancing between him and the bridge. “Though I’ve no idea where it’ll take me.”

He squints, head tilted as he studies me slowly, carefully, proceeding with caution when he says, “It leads to the other side. For everyone. No separate lines. No segregation of any kind. Leave that sort of judgment for the earth plane, not here.”

I shrug, unconvinced. He doesn’t know what I know. Hasn’t seen what I’ve seen. So how could he possibly know anything about what does or doesn’t apply to me?

“Even so.” He nods, sensing my thoughts loud and clear. “I’m just not sure you should even be considering that yet. Life is short enough already, you know? Even on the days when it seems really, really long. By the time it’s all over, it’s really just a flash, a blip in eternity, trust me on that.”

“Maybe for you, but not for me,” I say, meeting his gaze in a way so open and honest it’s clear I’m inviting him in. Ready to spill, confide the whole sordid tale, lay it all out on the table, everything I’ve held back all along—all he has to do is ask and the full confession is his. “For me, it’s hardly what you’d call a blip.”

He rubs his chin and merges his brow, clearly trying to make sense of my words.

And that’s all it takes. His desire to understand, and it all comes tumbling out. Everything. All of it. A complete and total spillage of words, coming so fast and furious they’re all mumbled and jumbled together. Stretching all the way back to that very first day at the site of the accident, when Damen first fed me the elixir and turned me into what I am now, to the truth about Roman, who he really is, and how he ensured that Damen and I can never be together, about Ava and the twins and the strange past that connects them, how I turned Haven into a freak like me, about the chakras and how targeting our weaknesses is the only way to obliterate us, and, of course, I tell him about the Shadowland, the eternal abyss where all immortals go—the only thing that’s keeping me on this side of the bridge. The words spewing so quickly I can’t stop them. Don’t even try to stop them. So relieved to unburden myself, egged on by his efforts to stay calm, to not totally freak, to just let me continue saying my piece.

And when I get to the part about Roman, about my horrible attraction to him, how the insistent dark flame continues to burn within me, and the degrading moment I just barely escaped, he looks at me and says, “Ever, please, slow down. I can barely keep it all straight.”

I nod, my heart racing, cheeks flushing, my arms wrapped tightly around me. My hair clinging in long, stringy, wet clumps to my cheeks, my shoulders, my back, weighted down by heavy, round dewdrops that continue to fall without ceasing. Watching as a virtual chorus line of new arrivals eagerly make their way to the other side, the bridge drooping and swaying as they march straight ahead, each of their eyes emitting the most miraculous, glorious light.

“Listen, can we—go someplace else?” He nods toward the line of people so long, I wonder if some sort of catastrophe has just taken place. “I’m a little creeped out by all this.”

“You’re the one who decided to come here.” I shrug, feeling inexplicably defensive, not to mention plagued by confessor’s remorse. I mean, here I just exposed my story, in all its hushed, secretive entirety, just laid it all out there in the open for him to see, and all he can say is slow down and let’s split this scene? I shake my head and roll my eyes. That is hardly the feedback I was looking for. “I mean, seriously. It’s not like I invited you to join me, you just showed up.”

He looks at me, undeterred by my mood swing, his lips lifting at the corners when he says, “Well, not exactly . . .”