Fibonacci mapped into his skin, his tapping ritual counting toward the golden ratio of phi, where he applies a heavier pressure to the seventh tap—a sequence progressing toward symmetry, toward that universal constant.
I brush my thumb over the ink, a hollow burn flaring in my throat. His access code imprinted here in case he forgets it, obsessively tapping it, fearful of losing its rhythm.
Always twelve beats. Until the moment he incorporated one extra with his ring finger—the symbolic heart vein—marking an anomaly.
“An extra tap,” I whisper across his lips, glancing again at the starling—the ink darker, newer.
His jaw clenches, a vulnerable truth locked behind his guarded eyes.
“You added the starling to your mnemonic map recently.” My gaze traces the shaded feathers. “It’s not just an update to your code so you don’t forget. Starling…the way you use it as an endearment—it’s a memory recall,” I say, the ache painful, “so you don’t forget me.”
He wove me into his most vital memory.
“But the little things, like giving me your umbrella in the rain, you don’t remember. Not every moment can be recorded.”
“All the big and little things,” he whispers roughly, his fingers tensing around mine. “I wanted to remember them all. I thought I did.” A melancholic smile ghosts his lips, and seeing it chisels at the hardened wall around my heart.
“For what it’s worth, thank you,” I tell him softly. “These past few months… Yes, Orion. I was happy.”
His voice breaks on a harsh breath. “I don’t want to lose you.”
The raw emotion behind his words resonates with a dual truth, honing the piercing ache behind my ribs. With one last, lingering touch,my fingers graze the starling, wondering what other pieces of our story he’s encoded on himself. What of our time together he didn’t want to forget.
I force myself to release his hand. “I’m not who you think I am,” I confess. “You should let me go. Let Collins go.”
I glance toward the darkened lab, finding the robotic arm stationed in the corner. The automated instrument he uses to tattoo his memories. “Cover this up,” I tell him as I draw my hand away from his.
Willing strength into my body, I lift away from him and drop my legs over the side of the bed. As I stand, I place the rest of the printed pages on his chest.
“If left untreated,” I say, injecting a clinical tone into my voice to curb the tremor, “your condition will worsen, deteriorating more of your memory. I’ve printed the treatment you need to receive. Immediately,” I stress.
It was never me carving at Orion’s stone—it was the relentless water. A ruthless tide eroding him little by little, wearing him away until he’s eventually as empty and hollow as the darkest voids of space.
Not long from now, if he doesn’t act to correct course, he might not even remember me.
After all the time that’s passed, he won’t reclaim everything, but he can help prevent further, severe loss. And maybe he’ll even remember who Emma truly was to him. At the thought, I glance at the time on one of the mounted monitors, a tight pinch in my chest speeding my pulse.
There’s a slight tendon flex along his wrist, and his shoulder shifts, confirming that the paralytic is wearing off.
“You should start to regain full mobility within minutes,” I say. “I suggest you use your time wisely instead of chasing after me.” My gaze clashes with his, those deep, endless oceans rocking through me. “Not only is it likely someone here suspects you, may even be feeding information to the Feds, but there’s an FBI agent here at Stonehurst. I’m not sure if he’s alone, or if there are more. But he’s looking for you, Orion.”
I turn away, ready to abandon this haunted place. Steeling myself, I pick up my boots and head toward the staircase—then pause. “Just out of curiosity,” I say, keeping my back to him, “what did you do with the skulls?” I glance over my shoulder. “Trophies—or just a counter-forensic measure?”
A faint, devious smile curls the corner of his mouth. “We have to keep a little mystery, don’t we, baby.” He sends me a wink.
Fortifying my resolve, I face the staircase?—
“Collins.”
The subtle command of his voice pulls me to a halt, my pulse racing against every second slipping away.
“This changes nothing,” Orion says, his voice firm with conviction.
“Dammit,” I mutter.
With wavering steps, I turn and close the distance to him, compelled by a desperate impulse I can’t deny. Leaning down, I trace my fingertips across his smooth jaw, guiding him as I press my lips to his.
I kiss Orion slowly, deeply. A kiss infused with aching tenderness and heartbreak and everything left unfinished between us. The fractured chords of my heart align one last time to the strong, steady rhythm of his pulse.
