Was this another hallucination? I pulled the pill bottle from my pocket, shook out an anti-hallucinogenic, and swallowed it dry. Bitterness spread through my mouth.
Usually, within ten minutes, the meds kicked in, and the hallucinations faded. I stood in the dark, staring at her, waiting for the brutal moment. But ten minutes passed. She was still there.
God. She was real. My hand trembled as I touched her face. Soft, warm—the sensation nearly suffocated me.
I carefully climbed into bed and lay beside her. The mattress dipped slightly, but she didn't wake. I turned on my side, greedily watching her profile, breathing in her scent. She seemed to sense the warmth, instinctively moving closer, then resting her head on my chest.
Just like six years ago. Like we'd never been apart. My throat tightened. Carefully, I wrapped my arm around her waist and held her. Six years of pain—it all dissolved in this moment.
My eyelids grew heavy. I don't know how long passed. I fell into a deep sleep, wrapped in warmth.
4:30 a.m. I woke. Outside, the sky was still dark. I looked at Anthea in my arms. She was still asleep, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned, like she was having a good dream.
I should leave. If she woke up and found the man who betrayed her, hurt her, in her apartment, in her bed—she'd be terrified. I didn't want our reunion to start with fear.
I slipped carefully out of bed. Then I leaned down and pressed the softest kiss to her forehead.
"I found you," I whispered, so quietly only I could hear. "This time, I won't let you go."
I wouldn't make the same mistake again. And I wouldn't let anyone hurt her.
Chapter Eleven
Anthea
Valentine's Day. Pink balloons, sweet chocolate, promises whispered over candlelight. For six years, this holiday had been nothing but pain—a reminder that I'd been betrayed, that my child had been ripped from my arms. But this year was different. This year, I could see Olei.
The thought made me breathe easier.
I threw my beige coat over my uniform, grabbed my commuter bag, and ran through today's lessons and dinner with Julian in my head. Then I opened the door and nearly choked. A white dahlia, still wet with dew, slipped from the doorknob and fell to the hallway floor.
No one knew I loved dahlias. No one except him. Silas. He knew I was back. He'd been here.
Cold shot up my spine, starting at my tailbone and racing to my scalp. Of course he knew. He was Olei's father. I was Olei's new teacher. He'd run a background check. But the flower... What was this? A warning to stay away from his son? Or was he planning to have me deported again?
I wanted to call it a prank. A coincidence. But I couldn't lie tomyself. I scanned the hallway. Empty. But I felt eyes on me anyway. My skin prickled.
Shit. I slammed the door and bolted down the stairs. I didn't breathe again until I hit the street, swallowed by traffic noise.
Calm down, Anthea. Whatever Silas wanted, I wouldn't let him wreck my new life. Not again.
At school, surrounded by bright young faces, I steadied. Near the entrance, a little girl was saying goodbye to her mother.
"Good morning, Anthea!" She waved, grinning like a sunflower.
"Good morning, Emily." I crouched and fixed the crooked bow in her hair.
Emily's mother smiled. "She talked about you all night. Said you're so gentle, and your class is really fun."
"Thank you. Emily's a bright kid." I stood, returning the smile.
In that simple exchange, I almost forgot the dahlia on my doorknob. Maybe I was just paranoid. Maybe some stranger left it at the wrong door.
I waved Emily and her mother off, then turned toward the building. That's when heat slammed into my back. I felt danger before I saw it. I spun around—and crashed into arms I couldn't escape.
Cedar. That scent made me shake. Even through my coat, I felt the coiled power in his body.
I knew this hold. My body recognized it before my brain did. My heart kicked into overdrive. It was him. I didn't need to look up or hear his voice. The man holding me was Silas.
