Page 39 of Depraved

I get to my feet, taking his hands to pull him up along with me. “Then let’s go back. You’re still bleeding.”

“I’ve had far worse,” he reassures me, his hand caging mine as he starts to walk out of the woods with me. “I probably won’t even need stitches.”

I fix him with a no-nonsense look. “You were unconscious for a few minutes. That’s dangerous, Brandon.”

To my shock, he grins despite the pain he must be experiencing. “You don’t know how good it feels to hear you say my name. I thought I’d never hear it again.”

“And whose fault is that?” I challenge gently. “I’m so relieved that you’re alive, but I won’t forget what you did so easily. You pretended to be someone else. I’m still processing it.”

His thumb rubs my palm in reassurance. “I know. I’ll earn your trust again. Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

That should scare me, but it doesn’t. I don’t want to lose sight of him now that I know he’s Brandon.

He’s alive.

It’s the most disconcerting miracle I ever could’ve imagined.

11

BRANDON

Karolina is my miracle. She said my name. My real name.

No one has called me Brandon in years.

I’ve been Ragnarök, a monster in the shadows.

I’ve been her masked man, Bones.

For her, I became Rand.

As she said, I might’ve won her heart in time with my new identity as her professor. But nothing could compare to hearing my name in her melodic voice.

I’ve been a coward not to tell her who I really am. A fool to deceive her.

I’m still not willing to reveal the extent of my violent past. Even when we were teenagers, I was too scared to confess the taint in my blood that makes me a cold, unfeeling killer.

She’s purity and light.

And I’ve reached for her with blood-soaked hands.

I’m a bastard for letting her suffer with guilt over my “death”. I can’t regret what I’ve done to have her, but I do regret that. I never want to cause her pain, but she’s been haunted by nightmares of what she did to me all this time.

An accident, I remind myself.

She didn’t do anything to me. The damage to my face was ultimately Carter’s fault. And my own for trying to shove the shotgun away rather than explaining myself.

Still, I can’t deny that part of me has feared that she meant to do it all along.

Her obvious regret over the damage she caused has soothed a wound inside me that I’ve been denying ever since that dark night in the burning stables.

She squeezes my hand as we enter the house, my sweet girl reassuring me despite the pain I’ve caused her with my lies.

“Where’s the first aid kit?” she asks, eyes tight with concern.

“In the bathroom upstairs. Why don’t you go to the kitchen while I clean up? You should eat something.”

“I’m not hungry. I don’t want to lose sight of you again.”