The temperature in Tarr City plummeted to forty-nine degrees below zero. Though the snow and rain had stopped, a brutal cold front surged through. Every inch of exposed skin felt as if it were being slashed by knives, the stinging pain accompanied by a maddening itch.
At four the next morning, when Evelyn Ford woke up, Ronan Kendrick was holding her tightly. Evelyn sensed something was wrong with him. She touched his forehead, only to find his body was frighteningly cold.
"Ronan? Ronan?"
Evelyn called his name several times, but Ronan didn't stir. Her hands were trembling violently. She forced herself to calm down, checking his pulse and his eyes. But his pulse was already different from a normal person's, making it impossible for her to get a proper reading.
Ronan's eyes were squeezed shut, his arm still locked around Evelyn's waist. She couldn't break his grip no matter how hard she tried.
"Ronan, wake up. Don't scare me."
