Chapter 9
The ballroom plunged into darkness.
Screams erupted. Glasses shattered. Bodies collided in the blind chaos.
I felt hands grab me—not gently. Rough hands, dragging me sideways through the crowd.
"NO!" I kicked. I bit. I clawed.
But whoever had me was strong. Impossibly strong.
I was dragged through a door, into a hallway, and slammed against a wall.
A hand covered my mouth. I couldn't scream.
In the darkness, a voice hissed, "Stop. Fighting."
It was the mysterious server.
"I'm trying to save your life," he said. "Nod if you understand."
I nodded.
He released me slowly, keeping one hand on my shoulder to steady me.
"The blackout is Victoria's failsafe. She has someone moving through the crowd right now looking for you with a syringe. We have—" he checked his watch, the face glowing green— "four minutes until midnight."
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"My name is Ethan. Ethan Hayes."
Hayes.
"You're—"
"Megan's brother. Natasha's brother. Yes."
Another sibling. Another person destroyed by the Carters.
"Natasha and I have been tracking Ryan for three years," he said, pulling me down the hallway. "When we realized you were in the same loop, we knew this was our only chance."
"You know about the loop?"
"I'm trapped in it too. I reset every time you die."
I stopped walking. "What?"
Ethan turned, his face half-lit by the emergency exit sign. "I don't know why. I don't understand the mechanism. But every time you die, I wake up at 6 AM in my apartment and live this day again. I've been trying to keep you alive for—" he paused— "I've lost count. Dozens of loops. Maybe hundreds."
Hundreds.
He'd been living this day for hundreds of loops. Watching me die again and again.
"Why didn't you approach me sooner?"
"I tried. In early loops. But every time I told you the truth too early, Victoria's people caught on and killed you faster. I learned that the only way to extend your survival was to give you just enough information at just the right moments."
"The napkin. The warning about the drink."
"All me. Every loop, I adjust. Try new approaches." His voice was tight. "You've died in ways I can't—" He stopped himself. "We have two minutes. Come on."
He pulled me toward the emergency exit.
"Where are we going?"
"The roof. There's a helicopter. A friend of mine. If we can get you airborne before midnight—"
"I just need to be alive at midnight. That's all."
"I know. But Victoria has people covering every exit at ground level. The roof is the only place they can't reach in time."
We ran up the stairs. Four flights. My wedding dress caught on the railing and tore. I didn't care.
One minute.
We burst onto the roof. Wind hit my face. The city lights glittered below.
Ethan checked his watch. "Thirty seconds."
I looked at him—this man who'd lived hundreds of my worst days, watching me die, trying again, adjusting, failing, trying again.
"Ethan—"
"Don't." His jaw clenched. "Don't thank me yet. It's not over until it's over."
Fifteen seconds.
The rooftop door slammed open.
Victoria stood there, breathless, a small pistol in her manicured hand.
"You," she snarled, looking at Ethan. "I should have killed you months ago."
Ten seconds.
She raised the gun.
Screams erupted. Glasses shattered. Bodies collided in the blind chaos.
I felt hands grab me—not gently. Rough hands, dragging me sideways through the crowd.
"NO!" I kicked. I bit. I clawed.
But whoever had me was strong. Impossibly strong.
I was dragged through a door, into a hallway, and slammed against a wall.
A hand covered my mouth. I couldn't scream.
In the darkness, a voice hissed, "Stop. Fighting."
It was the mysterious server.
"I'm trying to save your life," he said. "Nod if you understand."
I nodded.
He released me slowly, keeping one hand on my shoulder to steady me.
"The blackout is Victoria's failsafe. She has someone moving through the crowd right now looking for you with a syringe. We have—" he checked his watch, the face glowing green— "four minutes until midnight."
"Who are you?" I demanded.
"My name is Ethan. Ethan Hayes."
Hayes.
"You're—"
"Megan's brother. Natasha's brother. Yes."
Another sibling. Another person destroyed by the Carters.
"Natasha and I have been tracking Ryan for three years," he said, pulling me down the hallway. "When we realized you were in the same loop, we knew this was our only chance."
"You know about the loop?"
"I'm trapped in it too. I reset every time you die."
I stopped walking. "What?"
Ethan turned, his face half-lit by the emergency exit sign. "I don't know why. I don't understand the mechanism. But every time you die, I wake up at 6 AM in my apartment and live this day again. I've been trying to keep you alive for—" he paused— "I've lost count. Dozens of loops. Maybe hundreds."
Hundreds.
He'd been living this day for hundreds of loops. Watching me die again and again.
"Why didn't you approach me sooner?"
"I tried. In early loops. But every time I told you the truth too early, Victoria's people caught on and killed you faster. I learned that the only way to extend your survival was to give you just enough information at just the right moments."
"The napkin. The warning about the drink."
"All me. Every loop, I adjust. Try new approaches." His voice was tight. "You've died in ways I can't—" He stopped himself. "We have two minutes. Come on."
He pulled me toward the emergency exit.
"Where are we going?"
"The roof. There's a helicopter. A friend of mine. If we can get you airborne before midnight—"
"I just need to be alive at midnight. That's all."
"I know. But Victoria has people covering every exit at ground level. The roof is the only place they can't reach in time."
We ran up the stairs. Four flights. My wedding dress caught on the railing and tore. I didn't care.
One minute.
We burst onto the roof. Wind hit my face. The city lights glittered below.
Ethan checked his watch. "Thirty seconds."
I looked at him—this man who'd lived hundreds of my worst days, watching me die, trying again, adjusting, failing, trying again.
"Ethan—"
"Don't." His jaw clenched. "Don't thank me yet. It's not over until it's over."
Fifteen seconds.
The rooftop door slammed open.
Victoria stood there, breathless, a small pistol in her manicured hand.
"You," she snarled, looking at Ethan. "I should have killed you months ago."
Ten seconds.
She raised the gun.