The image in my head I've built of his face, hard angles and narrowed eyes, evaporates, replaced with . . . warmth and softness. I have no idea how to picture him anymore.

I don't realize my hand is still on his abdomen until his own comes down on top of it. "Annie," he says, voice thick with sleep, but it isn't a question. It's a statement.

I start to move my hand, embarrassed, but he grabs hold of my wrist, pulls it around his waist toward his back so that I have to climb on the bed or fall over it. "Annie," he says, and now it sounds like a question, and I can feel the same question burning through me. He brings my hand up, brushes his lips across my wrist, and I crawl against him, my shoulder beneath his arm, my head in the curve of his neck and shoulder.

My own lips find his skin there, and I realize I want to feel him. I want to taste him, I want to know this strange new Cole, this warm and soft in the night Cole. I put my palm against his cheek and he leans his face into it, then shifts his body, arm wrapped around my waist pulling me on top of him.

"Annie," he says, and this time it is a sigh that I seal with my lips against his. They're full, almost hot against my own, and I can taste my name on them, taste how he sees me in the way his mouth moves across mine, lips gentle and searching. Then he rolls, flipping me onto my back beneath him, his chest and stomach and h*ps hovering just over mine, his lips so close to mine I can feel the air between us, charged like the moment before a thunderstorm breaks. I cannot stand it, cannot stand this tension, so I arch my back and wrap my hands behind his neck, pulling him down to me.

He makes no sense, this boy with velvet-soft skin, lips that promise nothing and everything and make me forget that anything exists except this space we're in. A space that is getting smaller, tightening around us, wrapping us together in a puzzle of arms and legs that I don't ever want to solve.

"Annie," he says, and it's a question again, aching and hopeful, and I don't know the answer, I only know how I feel and how I want to keep feeling, so I pull him closer, and then-

Sadie screams.

Cole lets out a heavy breath, his weight on me no longer tense as he relaxes his muscles and drops, then rolls to the side.

"What?" I say, flustered, my heart racing. "What's wrong, Sadie?"

She takes a gasping breath. "I saw it. I saw it. I've never seen myself older, and now I know why. I'm going to die. I'm already dead." She dissolves into shuddering sobs and I sit on the edge of the bed, helpless, not wanting to go to her and accidentally touch her, make it worse.

"How?" I whisper.

"It doesn't matter. None of it matters. You can't help. I'm dead."

I sink into myself, feeling useless. Then I sit up straighter. I'm not useless. I can take care of her. I will. "I can help. I know exactly how you feel. I've seen myself dead, too. Three years ago, I was supposed to be shot in the head. And I'm here with you."

"Your sister changed it?"

"Yes." I try to sound as hopeful and sure as I can. "She did. So we can change this."

Sadie lies back down, the bed creaking beneath her. "Your sister is the one who makes it happen. Nothing is going to change. I'm going back to sleep."

"Sadie, I-"

"Leave me alone."

Cole's hand comes down on my shoulder, and I follow him into the bathroom.

"We're not fixing it, then," he says.

"We might be-she didn't tell us what she saw, maybe-"

"Annie."

I put my hands over my face, then sit on the edge of the bath. "Okay. Okay. Obviously this isn't working. We need to try something else. I think we need to tell Rafael, bring him in. He has resources. He could send Sadie out of the country, somewhere remote."

"I don't trust him not to take advantage of Sadie's ability."

"Neither do I. Not after the way he let Sarah fall apart. But he's not going to let Keane get Sadie. He'll get her somewhere safe."

I wait for Cole to argue, but he sits on the floor next to my legs, then leans his head against them. It feels so open, so vulnerable it's an actual pain in my chest. I rest my hand on his head, feel his hair, coarse with a hint of curl, between my fingers.

"If you think it's best," he says.

I try to laugh, but I can't quite manage. "I have no idea what's best. But I think it's our only option."

Rafael wastes no time. The next afternoon we meet him at a small airport.

"Annie, bella, I've missed you." He kisses my cheeks and I try to smile but I can't.

"Get her somewhere safe. Far, far away."

"You're sure, though, about what you saw-Fia was there, and so was Mr. Keane?"

"I'm sure. When I watch my sister die I pay attention."

"Forgive me. Of course. I'll take care of it; no one will be able to reach Sadie. There's another plane waiting for you two. We have a safe house in North Dakota. Adam and Eden are there now, and I know they'd love to see you."

"Thanks. For everything. Sadie?" I reach out and she moves forward. I pull her into a careful hug. "It'll be okay. You're going to be fine."

"Thank you for caring enough to try. Good-bye, Annie."

I've never heard such a final sounding good-bye.

"So are you guys doing it yet?" Eden asks, handing me the popcorn bowl. In the last seven days since we got here, I have eaten more popcorn than I thought was humanly possible. But at least Eden understands how to make a good pot of tea.

"Shut up," I hiss. "Where is he? He might hear you!"

"Relax. He's upstairs. But, man alive, that guy wants you. And the tension between you two is, like, wow. I have to keep taking cold showers so I don't jump Adam to try and work some of it out of my system. You are really bad to be around for a Feeler, you know that?"

I giggle. "Good thing Adam is at the lab so often. I don't think he could handle you. But really, I don't know what Cole and I are. We had a . . . moment. But things were so crazy and stressful, and then Sadie had to go, and we came here." I've thought about our kiss. So many times. Constantly. But I don't know how to bring it up.

"Rooming with me is cramping your style."

I smack her shoulder. "No, rooming with you is awesome. But it's like, how do you even start dating in a situation like this? Is it possible?"

Her phone chimes with a text. "Rafael. Sadie is in Europe, on her way to the Swiss Alps. Dang, girl, why couldn't you have seen Fia murdering me? Sadie gets the Swiss Alps, we get North Dakota. This is really not fair."

"It's not funny." The image of Fia doing that to Sadie, and then . . . I shudder.

"I'm sorry. You're right. You know what you need? An actual date. You and Cole should go out to dinner."

"I don't want to leave you and Adam out."

"Adam's not back from the lab until late tonight, anyway, and I make a mean microwave meal."

I bite the inside of my cheek. "But Cole and I have pretty much been living together for months now. What do I say? 'Hey, remember that time a week ago we totally made out in a hotel? That was nice. I'd like to do it again. Let's go to dinner.'"

Cole's voice comes from right behind me. "Um, okay."

My cheeks burst into flames. I pick up the popcorn bowl and dump it on Eden. She shrieks, laughing hysterically. "The look on your face . . . oh, that was worth it, I'm sorry, I'm the worst friend ever, but I will never regret this."

I turn to Cole, who must be behind the couch. "I was-you weren't-she was just-"

Laughter pulls the edge of his voice, stretching it into a shape that turns my embarrassment into something giddy. "Actually, I was coming in here to say the exact same thing to you. What a coincidence."

"Oh, really."

He walks around the couch. "Yes. Shall we?"

I hold out my hand and he takes it in his.

And-

Holy crap.

Holy crap, holy crap, holy crap.

"What's wrong?" he asks.

It's his hand.

"I think she's having a vision," Eden says.

"I-I-no. I'm not." I shake my head and he lets go of my hand but . . . I'd know that hand anywhere. It's his.

It was his all along. All this time, he's taken my elbow or my arm or my shoulder, but I've never actually held his hand.

"You okay?" Eden asks. "You look like you're going to pass out."

"I, uh, I'll go get my jacket." I rush past them, banging into the doorframe, then stumble around the tiny bedroom until I hit a low bed. I collapse onto it, unsure whether to laugh or cry, the things I'm feeling too much.

Cole.

I shove my fist into my mouth, laughing. I'm going to fall in love with Cole.

Actually, I'm pretty sure I already have. I pull the pillow over my face and laugh into it. And I didn't fall in love with him because his hand was right. I wanted him before I knew it was him. That makes it feel even truer somehow.

And then my stomach turns with a sick twist, because I can see. And it's not what I want to see, I don't want to, but I can't stop it.

A beautiful man sits on a leather couch, leaning back with his legs crossed. His skin reminds me of the way coconut oil smells. His suit shines beneath the overhead lights, perfectly contoured to his every line. His hair is black and curly.

Next to him is Sadie, brown hair back in a ponytail. Baggy clothes-long sleeves pulled down over her hands, long pants, wide-set eyes darting around the room like they can't settle on any one focal point. She's curled into the corner of the couch, legs tucked protectively in front of her chest.

A heavy door opens and two people enter the room. One, carefully handsome James, something tight and frightened around his eyes but not showing in his broad smile.

The other is the owner of the voice that still haunts my nightmares. Blandly handsome, not quite as tall as James but almost, the family resemblance in the jaw and the set of the shoulders. Phillip Keane.

And then a third person comes in (please no not again, not this) and my heart twists to see Fia, my Fia, but she doesn't move with her dancer's grace. James and the coconut oil man both look at her at the same time, each trying to convey something with sharp, expectant expressions.

She giggles, a high, nervous sound, and the line of her eyes shifts them into a shape I don't recognize.

She reaches behind herself and pulls out a knife and

she throws it, the knife sinking deep into Sadie's chest.

The beautiful man shouts, his hands fluttering over the knife and the blood as he tries desperately to help Sadie, who looks sad and resigned.

No one is watching Fia, who drifts to the balcony and jumps.

Eden's voice shatters the light, plunging me back into darkness. "Annie? Annie, what's wrong? What's going on?"

I gasp as though coming up for air from the depths of an icy lake. "Cole. I need Cole."

She runs into the hall and I'm alone with the things I saw. It changed, but not in the way it was supposed to. Why did it change that way? What was different?

Oh, no.

Oh no.

"What?" Cole asks, out of breath. I can hear Eden panting behind him.

"What does Rafael look like?"

I know before Cole speaks what he will say. "Curly black hair. Olive skin."

"He betrayed us," I whisper. "He's taking Sadie. He's taking her to Keane."

Chapter Twenty-Three

FIA

Nine Hours Before

I SIT ON A BRANCH, HIDDEN BY THE NIGHT AND THE clinging leaves, my back against the tree trunk. The lake stretches out in front of me, a black slick, but if I only look up, all I see are branches and leaves and sky. No lake, no park, no city. No buildings.