The difference between us and him is simple: he destroys things because he can.
I destroy things because they deserve it.
And Ewan Calder deserves everything that's coming.
I'm going to destroy him so completely, even hell won't recognize what's left.
TWENTY-THREE
KEIRA
Idon't know how many days pass before they let me see Hale.
Three, maybe four. Time folds in on itself when you're confined to one room with nothing but bandages and the dull ache in your palms to keep you company.
Ewan said it would be alarming for Hale to see my hands in their state, but he's letting me go for a visit sooner than I expected.
Maybe he's taken aback by the fact that I haven't been fighting him. Or maybe the staff gossip is all about my depression and how I haven't left my bed in almost a week.
Either way, I don't care. All that matters is I get to see my baby today.
The nurse came in early this morning and removed the bandages. The cuts are healing nicely. There will be scars, but it shouldn't be too bad unless someone's looking for them. I flex my fingers, testing the stiffness, making sure I haven't lost any feeling permanently.
By midafternoon, a staff member knocks twice and cracks the door open just enough to deliver the message: I'm cleared to visit Hale in the library. In exactly thirty minutes.
She leaves before I can ask if there are any conditions.
I stand in front of the mirror for a long time, pulling my sleeves down over my wrists, smoothing the fabric until it sits right.
I look like shit, and no amount of smoothing is going to fix the dark circles under my eyes, but kids don't care about stuff like that anyway.
The walk through the house feels different after days of isolation. I feel more exposed, like I've put a bigger target on my back. There is a reason Ewan is so good at what he does. He excels at breaking people apart from the inside. Feeding the shame you never thought you had.
I hear footsteps behind me, and when I look back, it's that guard again—the one with the mask. When I stop to look at him, he halts and straightens against the wall. His posture is perfect—shoulders back, gaze fixed forward like he's holding a perimeter instead of following me.
It's robotic, and that's what makes it wrong.
Does Ewan think I'm a total fucking idiot?
When I turn and continue toward the library, I hear the soft thud of his boots behind me.
He must have been promoted to prison watch. Or rat.
I don't speak to him, and he doesn't acknowledge me as we make our way to Hale.
The library is quiet when I arrive.
Hale is already there, seated at the low table near the window with his back to the door, bent over something. He's so focused on his task that he doesn't notice me right away. My heart twists so sharply I have to suck in a breath.
I'm so relieved to see him.
Missing him is constant, and I feel guilty because I shouldn't need this as badly as I do.
No one could have prepared me for this need before I became a mother. The way half your heart lives outside your body—small and vulnerable and entirely out of reach. Mothers spend their days hoping and praying their children are safe, carrying that gaping hole in their chest like a wound that never closes.
This kind of love is unlike anything else I've ever experienced.
I step closer, careful not to interrupt, and just watch him.
