Harlow/Ilaria
“I’m too late,” I whisper, my knees giving in and I fall to the ground. They’ve got him, they have taken Arlo. I start audibly crying, as pain, fear and an unbearable sense of resentment knock the air out of my lungs. I did this to him. I’m the one who deserves to die, not him. I crawl to my feet and just then, I see something across the room, peeking from underneath the couch. I head to it and I realize it’s his cellphone. It must have fallen and slid under the couch. I pick it up, my hands trembling really badly and my tears falling on it as I do. I awaken the screen and I thank God it’s not locked, realizing this is the only chance I have of getting hold of Enya. I search for her number and I find it and call her, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“No, no, no!” I dial a
