My breaths shorten, and I stumble back a step.
For a fleeting moment, I see him so clearly.Tooclearly. The boy I once knew. He’s right here, inches from my face, and god, I can’t do this. I can’t take the unexpected guilt washing over me.
“So can you,” I whisper, a swallow sticking in my throat as I break my gaze from his. “You can walk away.”
He’s been a part of me for so long, before I even knew that he was. It’s excruciating to think of what being here—seeingmehere—is doing to him. I’m the daughter of the woman who took his life without lifting a finger. Her clone. Her apprentice before I knew what an apprentice was.
I’m not wallowing. These are facts.
Something the man in front of me must be more aware of in this moment than ever before.
A bird whistles from the distant trees. Raindrops pitter patter on the leaves. And a twig snaps as he takes a step toward me.
I gasp when his thumb slips into the belt loop of my jeans, and he tugs me forward so I crash against his chest. Fingers graze the bottom of my jaw, and my head is lifted so I meet his eyes.
“Where you go,” he murmurs, his voice rough, “I go.” His nose skims mine, and my eyes shut. “Do you understand?”
I nod, water pooling behind my lashes as I find his gaze. I don’t know when I became this huge crybaby, but it’s annoying as hell. “Yes.”
“Good. All you have to do,” he repeats, “is walk away.” He tips his chin, scanning my face. “Is that what you want?”
“No.” An uneven sigh escapes me. I shake my head. “I can’t. I have to do this. Iwantto. Don’t you?”
A muscle in his jaw ticks, and he gives a barely perceptible nod. “Let’s go.”
He waits for me to take the first step, then his hand lands on my waist, and he follows where I lead. The garden pulls my feet forward, luring me to the one place it knows we need. The one place we once belonged.
Soon, silver shines through fallen leaves and unkempt brush. I look at Adam, and he’s already moving over the hidden door built into the dirt. He pulls out the keys,ourkeys, and narrows his eyes on the padlock.
The property was put up for sale at a ridiculously low price. With Murphy’s murder, and speculation about his involvement in Misha still circulating, it got no hits.
That is, until us.
Well, technically until Emmy and Lucas Miller, thanks to Felix.
But these keys are to the cottages, not a bunker that was never disclosed. Adam tosses them to me and checks his other pocket, withdrawing a shim he made out of a can when we parked the car. He fixes it to the padlock, expertly pulling the tabs from side to side, and the lock pops open.
A loud creak bellows through the tree-ridden acreage when Adam yanks the door open.
From up here, it’s nothing more than a black hole. A shiver runs through me, and the combination of fear and excitement is strangely stimulating. I crane my neck, then inch closer and let the provocative draw of darkness pull me down the rusty ladder.
A thump sounds from beside me when Adam’s feet hit the ground. Light pours from the opening above our heads, and gentle raindrops drizzle onto the ground. Together, we silently consume the place that molded us so long ago.
“It’s so small,” I whisper, taking in the short, narrow hall and two steel doors just a few feet apart. When I was a little girl, I could have sworn an army of guards could fit in here. But now, Adam’s form is so much larger than it used to be. He makes the walls look like they were built for hobbits.
He swallows, his fist curling once, twice, before he strolls toward the first door.
The studio.
It’s cracked open. An inch of space inviting us in like the room was waiting for our return. His knuckles brush the door, and it swings open the rest of the way.
This time, he takes the first step.
I hold my breath, then follow.
The first place I look is to my left, foolishly expecting to see shelves of ‘art’ encased in glass. Of course, there’s nothing but a steel wall and empty space. I tell myself I’m relieved, but a dark corner in the back of my mind—the part that craves familiarity and a glimpse of the madness in my blood—is wilting in disappointment.
When I glance to the right, my heart stops.
