Book 11: These Dreams Remain

Misty

Everything that happened over the last forty-eight hours is a blur. One moment, I was sitting on the floor of Cole’s trashed bedroom, talking in low tones as he packed his meager belongings into a worn backpack. The next, he donned his cloak and left, and almost nine hours later, returned to me and Georgia passed out cold in one of the apartment’s guestrooms. Georgia didn’t stir when Declan picked her up and carried her out of the room, but Cole woke me gently, telling me it was time to go. 

I didn’t have time to ask how he’d managed to get us out of the fortress claimed by the order. The few personal items he’d retrieved from my dorm room were already packed away in a car, he’d said. He offered me a sweatshirt that smelled like him and guided me, Georgia, and Luke–with an entourage of over twenty exhausted order members in their black cloaks, through the fortress I failed to map. 

There was one way out. Maybe at one point in time i