The Edge (Book 5 of The Claiming Series)

Chapter Twenty-Three

I wake to the sound of a baby crying, and my heart nearly leaps out of my chest. I push myself to sit up, my head feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. My limbs are tingling all the way to my fingertips.

Something isn't right.

A pain grips my stomach so violently that I let out something between a gasp and a guttural cry. The agonizing feeling wraps around to my back and travels down both my legs. I start panting through my teeth to push the pain away, but it drags on.

For a terrifying moment, this feels like my blackouts—a surreal landscape with unbearable pain—but I know this is real.

I don't know how I know, but I know.

When the pain subsides, I rub my eyes and claw through my mind for some memory. A recollection. Anything that can tell me why I can't remember how I got here.

The baby is still crying. I glance over to a bassinet set right by my bedside. It's my baby brother, snot and tears glistening his face. I reach over and pick him up.

He's here for a reason, but that memory is gone, too.

As I cradle him against my chest, his legs draped at an awkward angle over my stomach, I turn my head to Eli, but his side of the bed is empty.

Yet, that seems about right, too.

I squeeze my eyes shut. Why can't I remember? Why do I feel like this?

What do I remember?

Think.

We had dinner with our families.

Who was there?

Eli, Lily, Adrian, my parents, Levi, Aria, Angel, Lily, Eris, Charlie...

Eris.

Eris linking her arm through mine as a siren wailed outside the Palace. She said something to me, but I can't remember what. I didn't feel well. I remember being lightheaded and weak. And the siren wasn't registering with me because I kept asking to lie down.

Strange looks were tossed my way, but they were too panicked about something else to truly worry about me.

Sirens.

My eyes fall on Levi again, still crying and getting snottier by the second.

I get out of bed and hold the baby higher, closer to my shoulder. I carry him to the bedroom door, and as my hand reaches the handle, that same overwhelming pain returns.

My free hand slams on the door to hold myself up, trying to breathe and balance at the same time. The baby's crying gets louder, and I realize the fog clouding my head is starting to clear. Maybe he was always this loud.

The pain once again leaves, and I swing the door open.

The corridor greets us with an eerie silence. No guards watching the halls. No maids or workers.

Absolutely no one.

The wall lamps are barely glowing in the pitch darkness. My fingers glide against the wall as I step down the hall toward Eris's room. Each footstep sounds like a hammer beating the ground, even in the midst of Levi's wailing.

I knock on her door.

Nothing.

Panic is creeping up from my stomach into my throat. My jaw trembles.