“He is a killer, Emily,” he says. “And somehow, he is finding a way out of that hospital to get to you.”
My heart races, pounding against my ribs.
“And I am going to prove it.”His finger presses against my chest, his eyes locked onto mine.
He starts walking, his back turning to me.“You coming?” he says over his shoulder.
I stood frozen. My feet feel rooted to the ground, and my body locked in place.
“There are two of them,” I finally shout.
He turns instantly, rain slicking his hair to his face as his eyes lock onto mine.
“One was raised in the lab at the Institute,” I say, the words spilling out now. “The other was raised in the UK with the doctor’s wife.”
His expression hardens. “Does anyone else know about this?” he asks.
“No,” I say. My throat tightens. “I have no proof.” I hesitate, then add, “Yet.”
He closes his eyes, like he is forcing himself not to explode. When he opens them again, he mutters something under his breath. He steps back toward me and lifts me into his arms without asking.
I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.
“Can you be quiet until we get to your home?” he says. “I am trying to think.”
I nod. My arms fold across my chest as he carries me through the rain.
Daisy stays pressed against my thoughts, my chest tighter with every step. Then Mia’s voice slips in too, layered over everything else.
I am losing it.
THIRTEEN
Emily
Iwalk inside, and a low bark carries from the living room. A small smile pulls at my lips as I rush forward. She is on the sofa, curled on her side. I drop to my knees and press my palm to her head.
She is cold.
“No,” I whisper. My lower lip trembles. “No.” I cradle her face, but her head slips loose in my hands. “Daisy, baby, no,no,no.”
A sharp sound rips out of me, and I bury my face in her fur. “You’re just sleeping.” Tears pour down my cheeks, too fast to wipe away.
I lift her, shaking her gently. Her head lolls again. My forehead falls back against her fur as I pull her tight to my chest.
“What happened?” My voice breaks. “This is just a dream.” The words choke in my throat. “Just a dream.”
It isn’t.
I picture her somewhere else, somewhere bright—a place where dogs run without pain. Daisy is there, biting at her favorite plush toy, barking at angels who bring her favoritetreats. I cling to the image because it hurts too much to imagine nothing.
The tears don’t stop. I scream into her fur.
Rourke stands in the doorway. He doesn’t move. He watches me fall apart.
Nothing prepares you for this. You always think there is time. You tell yourself you will do it tomorrow or the next day. You push the toy aside when it gets under your feet. You flinch when the barking gets too loud. Nothing prepares you for the silence that replaces it.
I will never hear her bark again.
