The Wrong One
When I opened my eyes, I was back in my bedroom. I stared up at my blue ceiling, trying to figure out how I got here. We had ripped, but it couldn’t
have been because of John. I knew that much, because he was lying on my bedroom floor, unconscious.
It must have been someone else. Someone who was more powerful than an Incubus. Someone who knew about the Eighteenth Moon.
Someone who had known everything, all along—including the one thing I was just starting to figure out for myself, right now.
Liv was shaking John, still sobbing. “Wake up, John. Please, wake up.”
He opened his eyes for a second, confused. “What the hell?”
She threw her arms around him. “Not hell. Not even heaven.”
“Where am I?” He was disoriented.
“My room.” I sat up and leaned against the wall.
“How did I get here?”
“Don’t ask.” I wasn’t about to try to explain that the Lilum had somehow transported us here.
I was more worried about what it meant.
It wasn’t John Breed.
And there was someone I had to talk to.
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