Death. It was something I had to think about once. Weird, right? Strange that death was ever an inevitable end, but it wasn’t anymore. Not really. I eluded it. Tricked it. It was an odd concept—the world aged, moved forward, yet I . . . didn’t.

Time keeps ticking away, unaware of the suffering each second generates. Time doesn’t care, because if it did, it would’ve reversed.

Death and his scythe do not come. No sweeping black capes or ethereal escapes. There’s no pearly gate, no prisms of colors as his soul slips away. The stillness is cold steel. The silence is empty with no memory to mend it.

Landon drops the bloody knife and stares at Summer like he doesn’t even know her anymore. The truth is, she’ll never be the girl she was seven months ago. Too much has happened. Too much has changed.“Why’d you do that?” Summer cries.“To save you,” he says.But there’s nothing left to save.

Gage is waiting on the makeshift bed when she enters the room she’s been sleeping in. The small lantern in the corner barely lights his features. His shoulders are hunched, his hands clasped together before him, and when he looks up, his face is downcast. There are a number of reasons why he would look this way, but the worst possible thing comes to mind first.Someone is dead.