This is it. I’m about to die.

The overwhelming weight disappears and my lungs scream as I pull in a strained breath, coughing and rolling onto my side. Cole is pulling Zane from on top of Callum, and I manage to slide from underneath both of them, struggling as I gasp and grapple, desperate to pull in more oxygen. The air tastes like a mixture of copper and smoke. I put my hands out to steady me but they slip against the slick wet floor.

My hands are red. Why are my hands red?

The metallic tang of blood registers and I scramble to my knees as Cole looks at me wide-eyed.

“Shit, Robyn?”

“It’s not mine!” I scream. “It’s not my blood! Oh my God, Callum!” He’s groaning as Cole frantically drags him up to a sitting position, shouting at him and asking if he’s okay, then patting him down looking for the source of the blood he’s covered in.

He answers, “Yeah, I’m okay,” and I collapse against him, sobbing, as he pulls me into his side. My body folds into his, my arms circling around his waist. My heart feels like it’s resting by my feet, the terror of thinking it was Cal’s blood makes me feel physically sick. I take a deep breath and look around the room before wishing I hadn’t.

“It’s all right, Tweet; you’re safe,” he tells me as my eyes fall to Carter, an unmoving heap on the ground. Zane is quiet, too, and a shiver runs across my back at the thought that maybe he’s dead. I pat Cal down, running my hands over his chest and back, wanting tangible evidence that the blood’s not his, that he’s really okay. I’m blinking away tears of relief and then realize there’s someone missing.

“Danny!” I call as I search for him, my head whipping from side to side, scanning the floor.

“I’m here!” he calls in a strained whisper from behind one of the tables, and I sigh against Cal in relief. My sobs and Callum’s shushing mingle with the sound of the sirens that filter into the room.

3 months later.

HOW YOU PERFORM in a crisis reveals a lot about your character. Cole’s first reaction was to protect his brother. There were no moments of conscious indecision; it was an instinct that propelled him into action as he watched Carl Carter raise his hand and point a gun at his brother. It’s said that blood is thicker than water, and Cole’s actions support that theory, but Callum would have been the first to tell you he had two brothers. Zane was more than just a friend, he was regarded as a member of the family too. Maybe not in blood, but in every other way that counts.

Sometimes the people we hold the closest to us, the ones we choose to bring into our lives—our friends—are the people that cross us quicker than a stranger. I know Callum’s pain because I feel the same betrayal. When the going got tough, Daniel disappeared. And when he was faced with the prospect of being in danger, he chose to protect himself. There’s nothing wrong with his actions, but for someone who was supposed to love me, he didn’t look back as he attempted to run from the club when the opportunity arose.

Carl Carter and Zane Lector were stretchered out of Reveal that day and are now awaiting trial for their actions. Cole’s connections have made certain that they’ll be tried for the maximum penalties possible. It’s nothing less than they deserve. Personally, I hope they both rot in jail for the rest of their miserable lives.

Unsurprisingly, Daniel vanished from the hospital without a trace. I guess some things never change. I’m disappointed more than upset; you can never escape your problems when you carry them within you.

And then there’s Callum. He put his life on the line without a second thought. There was no hesitation; his priority when faced with danger was me. I’ll never be able to express how much that means to me. I have no words to describe the complete safety and contentment I feel when I’m with him. He’s been my savior on more than one occasion, and when I was sure that the universe was conspiring against me, and nothing was going my way, it brought me him.

I was pushed down a path that I’d never have taken if my hand weren’t forced. And while the road has been bumpy and fraught with difficulties, I would choose that path again given the chance. Thinking back on the tarot cards that Athena read for me that night, I guess they were pretty accurate. The Death card did symbolize a goodbye to the past and new doors opening. The Two of Swords sure as hell indicated my need to make decisions and not let them escalate. The Ten of Swords dramatically revealed sudden tragedy and betrayal. Annie still maintains that anyone can interpret those cards in a way that will fit with their lives. That may be so, but the coincidence is enough to fuel my belief that Athena knew what was in store for me.

When a door closes, it forces change, and the opportunity to discover something even better. If you’re strong enough to say goodbye to your old life, fortune will reward you with a new hello. Callum and Reveal are my hello. I’m in New York City doing what I’ve always dreamed of—dancing. Only now, my dreams don’t measure up to my reality because Callum is my reality. When I turned the page on my old life, I realized that my book wasn’t finished. There’s a whole set of blank pages waiting for me to write my own fairytale.

I once owned a notebook with a Gandhi quote that read:

Our beliefs become our thoughts.

Our thoughts become our words.

Our words become our habits.

Our habits become our values.

Our values become our destiny.

My destiny has been revealed. In three months’ time I’ll become Mrs. Robyn Speight. Lucy thinks I’m crazy and maybe I am. All I know is that when Carter fired his gun, the only thought to pass through my mind was of Callum. Our story may not have had the most conventional of beginnings, but it sure isn’t lacking in love. And the reason I know this will work is that when I finally did hit rock bottom, Callum was right there with me. He was my solid foundation, the stability I needed, and together we’re building our dreams.

The End.

If you liked Reveal, why not try

Promises Hurt

Continue on for a preview of the first novel in the Promises Series.

2011, age 15

I’M SITTING IN the medical center waiting room swinging my legs back and forth while my best friend, Em, has a blood sample taken. We’re supposed to be going to some pizza place that Em wants to try out after this. She overheard Ethan Jamison talking about how he likes to eat there, so now, of course, we have to go there too. Her obsession with him is beyond me; he walks around school like he owns the place. Sure, he’s good looking, but if you ask me arrogance is not an attractive feature; neither is hooking up with a new girl every week.

The waiting room smells like bleach and I’ve already flicked through the pile of out-of-date magazines on the sideboard. You’d think that someone would change them at least a few times a year, but apparently not. These places are depressing; the faded yellow walls and drab green curtains look like they’ve seen better days. Considering that it’s a waiting room and people have to sit here for what feels like forever, the designer could have put in comfy seating, but the ancient-looking plastic seats are only marginally better than sitting on the floor.