Ned staggers in our direction. “Run, Lawrence!” I pull at his
torso. He groans with pain as he rises to his hands and knees.
We’re so close to the bushes.
But not close enough.
“There you are,” Ned barks. “I’m going to enjoy squeezing
the life from your throat.”
He grabs for me. I scream, and his hand closes around my
wrist.
“Ned!” Lawrence shouts, his voice strained as he struggles to
crawl toward us. But Ned’s massive hand circles my throat.
I scratch at his fingers with my free hand, but he doesn’t even
flinch. His upper lip curls with rage, and his vice grip tightens,
squeezing off my windpipe.
The bushes suddenly explode with people. A cluster of men
bursts onto the beach, their faces bright with alarm.
“Hey!” One of them bellows, seeing Ned and me. “Let her go!”
“She wasn’t kidding,” another one yells. “He’s snapped!”
The crowd doesn’t give Ned a chance to comply. They rush
him, tackling him to the ground. I fall to my knees, gasping.
More people from the party come out onto the beach, craning their necks to see. Fay emerges from the bushes. Her gaze
goes to Lawrence, then to me. My heart’s still pounding and
my breath heavy, but I nod. She nods back.
There’s a commotion on the beach. The group of men drag Ned
back toward the house. Others shout for the police to be called.
People are talking loudly, explaining what happened to newcomers,
expressing their shock and dismay at such a thing happening.
Others rush to Lawrence and me.
“Are you all right?”
“Can you move?”
“Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?”
Lawrence is sitting up, though he still seems disoriented. In
spite of all the chaos around him, he keeps his eyes fixed on
mine. I squeeze his hand.
“You did it, Cassandra,” he whispers. “You saved me.”
The realization sinks in. It’s over. It’s really over. Inexpressible
relief mixes with the residual adrenaline and fear, and I can’t
stop the tears spilling from my eyes.
“We did it,” I say, gripping his hand. I need to feel the flesh
and pulse of him. Proof that he’s alive. That he’s here. That
we’re really together.
“We need to get you a doctor,” a woman says, coming to
Lawrence’s side. “You look pretty beaten up.”
“I’ll be okay.”
A young man reaches for Lawrence’s shoulders. “I’ll help get
you up. We got you, Lonnie.”
But Lawrence holds out a hand. “No, Charles. Please…I
want to stay here for a moment. I’ll come, but I need a minute.
A minute alone with Cassandra.”
The young man—Charles, I guess, is his name—glances at
the woman, then at me. When no one moves, Fay comes over.
“It’s all right,” she announces. “Lon just needs to get his
strength back. He’s overwhelmed with all these people. Come
on, everyone. Let’s give him some space.”
The lingering crowd seems reluctant. Fay sets her hand on
Charles’s shoulder. “Okay, everybody. Let’s go.”
The people shuffle away, glancing back at us with curious
looks. Fay ushers them along. Just before she reaches the path,
she glances over her shoulder too. I feel a stab of guilt. She
loved Lawrence, that much I can see.
“Thank you,” I say.
Fay manages a small smile, which fades as quickly as it came.
And then she vanishes into the bushes.
Lawrence’s hand comes to my cheek. His gaze is brimming
with love. My heart bursts at the sight of it. I fall against his
chest and his arms encircle me. Fresh tears fall from my eyes.
“I love you, Lawrence.”
“And I you, Cassandra.”
He pulls my face to his. The feeling of our lips joined together
has never filled me with more happiness.
When we break apart, Lawrence strokes my hair. “I want to
be with you for the rest of my life. It’s time, Cassandra.”
“Right now?” I ask, my voice trembling.
He nods. “When I go back to the house, I want you at my