11:15 PM. Link Bridge.

The bridge was a chaotic sea of flashing blue and red lights.

The rain hadn’t stopped, but now it was mixed with the screech of sirens and the crackle of police radios. Traffic was backed up for miles, spectators craning their necks to see what was happening at the railing.

Aria sat in the back of an ambulance, the doors wide open to the storm. A heavy orange blanket was draped around her shoulders, but she was shivering violently.

She wasn't cold. She was vibrating with adrenaline. The rush of what she had just done—the physical act of shoving her sister into the abyss—was coursing through...