Page 65 of The Last Love Story

I kill the rest of my coffee, and Callum does the same. “I must have.”

I toss my cup in the trash and offer Callum a thin smile. “Time to be brave.”

“Bravery is bullshit,” I whisper, and Callum tightens his grip on my hand.

We’ve been underwater for fifteen minutes, and every creak and groan of the hull fills me with adrenaline. Whenever I think we’re deep enough, surely, we dip even farther down. The light above grows dim, and it feels like a door closing over my head. I step closer to the glass and look down. There’s nothing but blackness.

On the metaphoric bright side, the submarine is much bigger than I thought, and much fancier than I ever expected. There’s a massive viewing portal on both sides—a half circle of glass twenty feet in diameter, with a blue velvet sofa situated around the base. There are even bedrooms and conference rooms along the edge of the hull. A full crew works the controls from the starboard side, moving levers and pushing buttons situated on a chrome baseboard. They keep up a running chatter, voices low, but it’s like another language to me.

In addition to the crew, four camera-wielding onlinepersonalities were permitted to join us, as well as a full security detail.

Which, unfortunately, includes Hux. I would have recognized him from the tension in his black-clad body alone, but there’s also the huge scab on his face that’s a dead giveaway.

I can feel his gaze boring into the back of my head as I stand in front of the glass with Callum, sending my heart fluttering like a hummingbird. Perhaps the coffee was a mistake.

I step closer to our private window as the press loiters on the other end of the sub. Callum interlaces our fingers and drapes them on my hip, holding me close. In a moment, he’s steadied my heart rate.

“How was the meeting with your father?” I ask quietly.

Callum shakes his head. “How are you?” he asks, thumb strumming along the back of my hand. His finger brushes my hip, and I flinch away from the fireworks against my skin. As our eyes meet, his thumb moves to my ring, spinning it gently against my knuckle.

“You saved my life,” he breathes into my hair. “You saved both of us.”

Outside, I see the first hint of what we’re looking for: a crumbling highway. It’s cracked in half, draped in seaweed and barnacles. Above, I recognize the shape and scrawl of an exit sign, but the white lettering is too rusted out to parse.

“Surely your dad is rethinking things, right?” I whisper back. “Now that his son was almost killed?”

Callum sighs. “The opposite, actually. He’s more determined not to let the terrorists win.We must be onto something if they’re resorting to this kind of violence.” Callum does such a good impression of his father that it makes my skin itchy.

I glance over my shoulder. Hux tosses something in the air as he sits on a stool alongside the other guards, and I curse under my breath as I recognize the poker chip.

He’s screwing with me.

But I don’t have time to screw around. I’ve got three days. Biting my lip, I focus on keeping my voice light and convincing, barely pleading: “People are scared, Callum. Your father has been pushing the limits of his presidency for a while. Signing laws without Congressional approval? Dismissing the Supreme Court? Gerrymandering the Senate race? He’s making people feel powerless, so they’re taking power where they can. If they’re reacting this way based on what he has done, what are they going to do when he announces that he’s taking away their vote, forever?”

Callum tightens his grip on my hand. “Nothing is going to happen to you, Ripley. I won’t let it.”

I pull on his arm, pivoting him to face me. “I don’t care about me,” I say, shocked by how true the words are. “I don’t want you to be in danger. And, truthfully, I don’t want the country to have a dictator. It’s wrong, Callum.”

It’s a risk whispering this to him out here, but I have to try. Suddenly it all feels so flimsy. I can’t believe I thought that I could fix this with my words.

As I look up at his face—I realize he’s the third option. Not Lyceum, who lied to me, or the Machs, who want to kill me. Callum is the only person who hasn’t lied to me. The one person I can trust to follow his moral compass, who wants to fight for what’s good but in a way that’s good, that’s right, that’s legal. And he’s the one person I believe can actually do it.

I blink hard, hoping I can hide the rising tears in my eyes, but it’s no use. Callum’s expression collapses at the sight. A hand wraps around my shoulders, pulling me into his broad chest and sheltering me as he glances behind us. There are two cameras pointed at us and three in selfie mode, using us as the backdrop.

Callum narrows his eyes, then seems to make a decision.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

I nod, too choked up to risk talking. He nods, sharply, and in a moment I see all the power and resoluteness of his father. Before I can react, he grabs my hand again, this time pulling me to one of the doors that lead to the private rooms.

“I’ve got a plan, okay?” he murmurs. As I follow, the entirety of our security detail snaps to attention. Hux leaps off the stool, nearly dropping the poker chip. He narrows his eyes at me as he fumbles it into a pocket.

Of course we walk over to him. Of course he’s the one who has to open the door for us. I keep my expression cool as Hux ushers me inside a bedroom, complete with a wide king bed covered in a blue silk comforter. The entire wall to theoutside is glass, a full panorama into the floodlights of our submarine, and suddenly I can breathe again.

I suck in air, grateful for the way my lungs seem to unzip, and roll my head back to dissipate the tension. Immediately, I freeze in shock. The ceiling is made of glass. From here, I can just make out the surface far above our heads, a rippling, foaming sky that reaches down to us with light fingers.

The cameras edge forward, sensing a development, but Hux positions himself in the open doorway and holds his hands up.