I hold my hands up. “Would your enemies hold their hands up like this?”
“You aren’t my enemy. You’re my nightmare,” Langston says.
“Ask me. Ask me something only I would know. Something that would make you feel this is real and not a dream,” I say.
He considers for a moment. “In high school, you said Jessica Willis kissed you, not the other way around. Was it true?”
“No, I kissed her. I knew you liked her, and I betrayed you. I’m sorry.”
Langston shakes his head.
I slowly put my hands down, hoping this is over. “You believe I’m real?”
He laughs. “No, the real Enzo would never admit to betraying me like that.”
Fuck.
I see him reach for his gun at the same time I reach for my knife. I throw my knife before Langston has a chance to fire. The knife sticks into Langston’s thigh.
He stares down at the wound, finally feeling more pain than a dream produces.
“This is real,” I say, walking toward him.
He grabs the knife, pulls it out, and stares at the blood. “Real.” Slowly, his eyes meet mine.
And then we embrace in a desperate hug.
“You’re alive,” Langston sobs into my shoulder.
“You’re alive,” I repeat, not believing my own words.
“How? You were dead,” Langston says.
“I want to ask you the same question. Numerous people reported you dead. I saw the evidence. The security footage, there was no way you could have survived,” I say.
He nods. “I shouldn’t have.”
“How did you?”
He shrugs. “Luck, determination. I’m not sure. I remember crawling away from the explosion. I ended up on the beach. And when I went back, everyone was gone or dead.”
Langston’s alive. Could others be alive?
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
My heart speeds up at that, though. Could Liesel be alive? Could Kai? The baby?
“No,” Langston says sternly.
“What?” I didn’t ask him a question, so I don’t know what he’s answering.
“No, they aren’t alive. Don’t go there. Don’t torture yourself.”
“But—”