Free Midnight Sun by Rachel Grant Page B

gym as she caught her breath.  
    Running into a building with alarms blaring after hearing a gunshot couldn’t be the smartest choice. But what could she do?
    Where is Rhys?
    Her heart slammed against her ribs. Her entire body rocked with the force of it.  
    Please let Rhys be okay. Please.
    She didn’t even know who or what she prayed to, because an ancient mask had crossed the paranormal divide and shattered all her previously held conceptions.
    Then a vision came. An alternate dimension? A now in which she hadn’t stormed off. She glimpsed into a multiverse in which she felt a brief flash of unspeakable agony. Then she felt nothing at all.

    H is doubts, her anger, the mask had orchestrated both, triggering her storming exit and saving her life. Rhys knew that on a deeper level than he’d ever known anything before.  
    If they hadn’t argued, if she hadn’t left, she’d be dead.
    The alarm cut out. Automatic shutoff, or something sinister? He was still grappling with how close they’d come to Sienna’s death, caught between dimensions where he was trying to figure out what was real and what was—thankfully—an alternate reality.
    Unless…whoever had fired the shot had met up with her on the road.
    He bolted to his feet, no longer concerned the shooter was still in the building. He had to find Sienna. Now. The bright sun blinded him as he charged through the open front door. He paused by Chuck’s SUV to give his eyes a moment to adjust and scanned the distance. He could see for miles, but there was no sign of her.
    If she’d heard the gunshot and come back, the shooter could easily have caught up with her by now.
    He studied the buildings and saw a splash of red peeking out from the corner of the gray CrossFit gym. Sienna’s purse? It was at the right height given the way she wore it across her chest.  
    He pushed off the SUV and ran to the corner, aware he could be leading the shooter right to her. He prayed the shooter was gone. Surely, given what the mask had just done, it would find a way to stop him if he were putting her in danger again.
    He was more certain than ever the mask had chosen him, had even put them in bed together, because Sienna was in danger. The artifact had chosen him to protect her, and the method it employed to get him to care about her had been effective.
    He rounded the corner, and there she was. Relief swamped him as he pulled her to his chest. He ran his hands up and down her spine, the need to touch her, to prove she was alive and unhurt, overwhelming him. He cradled her damp cheeks between his palms and looked into her amber eyes, which overflowed with tears. Her name came out as a choked rasp, and he kissed her as if she were the only source of oxygen in his universe.
    She kissed him back, her response as deep and frantic as his.
    He murmured endearments against her lips and stroked her face, her hair, her shoulders, her back.
    “I died, Rhys.” She let out a choked sob. “I was dead.”
    “I know, love. I know.”
    “I felt the bullet. Horrible pain. And then…nothing.”
    He’d had the horror of watching, but she’d felt it. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” His words were beyond inadequate.
    “Please. Can we go home and do something life affirming?”
    The way she called Chuck’s house home triggered a warm ache in his chest. As if any place they were together would be home. “We need to call the police and report the shooting. Then yes. Anything you want, yes.”
    She pressed her head against his chest and hugged him tightly. “Okay.”
    They stood there, leaning against the building for several minutes. He stroked her back, giving thanks they were in this universe, where she had a future, even as his mind reeled, accepting once again that the mask was some sort of supernatural object.  
    A patrol car came rolling down the U-shaped gravel driveway. He wasn’t surprised to see Officer Tourney at the wheel. Odds were the officer was responding to the alarm.