I didn’t want to freak her out.
“Probably nothing,” I lied. “I just expected her to be here.”
She looked confused, but I didn’t give her time to ask again. I managed a stiff nod in parting and headed back toward the door.
The moment it closed behind me, I broke into a run.
I would find Quinn.
I didn’t care what it took, who I had to call, or what I had to tear apart in this town.
I’d find her.
Even if it killed me.
33
Quinn
IthoughtIwasdreaming.My body—if I even had a body—felt heavy. Sometimes, I thought I opened my eyes, getting flashes of bright lights in the darkness. Sometimes, I opened my eyes and it was just dark: a consuming, crushing dark.
And the cold. It was so, so cold. Like I’d floated to the very bottom of the ocean and was living where no warmth or light touched.
I got whiffs of something sharp and damp. But every time my nose wrinkled or I tried to place the smell, my thoughts floated away again.
In my dream, I saw Graham—his smile, the feel of his soft hair in my hands and his skin beneath my fingertips.
But then, the dreams changed. They always changed.
To a spring day and a crushing weight on top of me.
To the smell of that man.
To my muffled screams.
Then I saw Mara’s face, heard her muttered voice.
Mara.
There was something about Mara, but I couldn’t remember.
I needed to wake up, but every time I thought I was finally awake, it was just another dream. Another nightmare where unknown hands were pulling me, crushing me, hurting me.
It wasn’t until I saw my brother’s face that the raw fear hit me.
I didn’t often dream about him. In the beginning, he visited me often while I slept. But then…it became too painful to see his face even there.
When his body materialized through the flickering darkness, I wanted to cry.
“Austin?” I called for him, reaching out my hand, but he was too far away to touch.
He was always too far away.
His form was vivid, though. Stark against the darkness, his body almost glowing around the edges.
“You have to wake up, Quinn,” he said.
The sound of his voice almost broke me. I hadn’t heard it in so long. I’d almost forgotten it. The smooth cadence was reminiscent of our father’s, but softer, more caring.
