“Dessin?” I ask.
A sad smile. The kind you receive at a funeral. “My name is Kane. I’ve waited—a very long time to see you again.”
The words are mummified in my throat. Capsulated.
I can’t believe I’m finally meeting him—but—what did he say?
—to see you again.
“What—” An anchor tugs in my mind, teetering on the edge of a memory.
“Hold on,” he whispers, and those eyes are portholes guiding me far away.
I’m back at my father’s house four years ago, my body broken and bloody, sniffling cries as my legs swing back and forth from a moving object—carrying me.
“What’s happening?” I mutter the question, but I’m not sure if it escaped my lips. My forehead is wet and throbbing, and the left side of my vision is blinding red.
“Hold on,” his voice breaks, sounding like he’s about to lose it. Cry out in pain or yell in anger. “I’m so sorry, Skylenna.”
He was younger here. His hair was slightly shorter. There wasn’t any scruff on his jawline or chin. He was—Kane.
He was the man who saved me. Survivah’s infirmary never received the name of the man who carried me several miles from my father’s secluded home near the woods. I always had wondered, though. For years, I called that person my angel. I was convinced God sent me protection to carry me from the brink of death and deliver me back to life.
And he’s here now—patiently waiting, watching, wondering if I remember. We’re kneeling in the middle of the dirt road, our bodies clasped together, with only the moments of Dessin lingering between us—but Irememberhim.
“You…” I utter. “You were there. You saved my life.”
He nods his head once.
“But how? And why didn’t you—why didn’theever tell me?” My mind is flowing a steady bountiful river of questions. Is this why he has always acted a certain way around me?
Is this why he has always been so protective of me? But why all of the secrets?
He presses his forehead against mine, closing his eyes as if sensing my urgency to know what is going on.
“These are questions for another day.” His voice is different. Changed. Still deep and strong and powerful. But now, it’s laced with a conscience, with remorse.
“Why can’t they be questions for right now?!” I raise my voice. Fire rising in the depth of my chest.
“Because, Skylenna, we’re fugitives now.”
His eyes lift slowly, taking my hands into his and holding them to his chest.
“It’s time to run.”
57. Journey Into the Night
We have nothing to carry. Nothing to claim ownership of.
It’s only us. The Emerald Lake Asylum’s clothes on our backs. Andus.
I didn’t dare ask another question as he guided me by my trembling, bloody hand into the forest, walking briskly over the lifted tree roots and tangle of vines. And we ventured into the blackness of nature, listening to the sleeping lullaby of nightfall, the breeze flickering past the leaves, and drying the sweat along my neck and chest.
Kane. His name is Kane. He was born with that name.Kane.
After an hour and a half of trudging through the weeds, he turned to look at me, hardly recognizable in the lack of light. Without hesitation, his large hands slid along either side of my waist—and just as I thought he was going to lean into me—he lifted me effortlessly from the ground over the fallen tree trunk.
I tried to hide my expression as the goose bumps blistered over my skin.
