Page 263 of What We Become

“Knox.”

“He’s been in this room ever since. Hank’s been keeping him fed and quiet. He doesn’t know who took him or why.”

My blood goes cold. Then hot. My hands start shaking and don’t stop.

“You didn’t,” I whisper.

“We did.” Eli’s voice is behind me, rough. “This is the name on the top of your list.”

My mouth goes dry.

There are names that never stop living under your skin. Names that don’t need to be spoken to make your body remember. Mine remembers before my mind catches up fully—my lungs going tight, and that split second of being fifteen and small and unable to get enough air.

My hand presses to my chest.

Micah’s fingers close gently around my wrist. “Breathe, baby girl.”

I try.

The first breath is shit. Too sharp, too shallow.

The second gets a little farther.

Knox is still standing in front of the door, massive and immovable, but his eyes are on me, waiting.

“You found my uncle?” I ask, and my voice doesn’t sound like mine.

Knox doesn’t look away. “Yes.”

Six weeks. Milo ran the trace, Holden confirmed it, Knox drove to Bridgeport three days ago and put a man in a room. And in between, all five of them planned a wedding with me and never said a word.

I stare at the door.

Behind it is the first monster.

I haven’t seen him in years.

But I’ve seen his face everywhere.

In nightmares. On the street. Behind every locked door.

“You don’t have to go in,” Holden says. He’s behind the group, leaning against the corridor wall, arms folded, watching me. “We can handle it. Hank can handle it. You never have to see his face.”

“But we thought you should choose,” Knox says.

I could turn around. Let them handle it. Leave for the cabin without ever seeing his face again.

Brock was reactive. Stine was desperate. Freely was deliberate. Stephen was earned.

I look at the door.

“Kitten.” Milo is beside me, his hand finding mine. “Whatever you decide. We’re here.”

I look at our joined hands. My rings catch the light as I loosen my fingers.

I turn to Knox. “Give me my knife.”

He pulls my folded knife from the sheath at his hip and opens it. The blade catches the fluorescent light.