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When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine.

“You don't have to be fearless,” he tells me. “You just have to keep going.”

His thumb traces beneath my eye, catching a tear before it falls and something inside me cracks. Not the barrier holding back my mind, but something else.

The desperate need to run from it.

41

Timothy

My heart beats so hard that I think it may crack a rib. It has nothing to do with the memories Arianette is slowly processing, and everything to do with the fact I just told her that I love her.

I love her.

It seems so easy. You don’t have to do anything to fall in love. It just happens. But standing here, looking at this girl, eyes shining from the candlelight, I know it’s more than that.

I had to let my walls down–remove that goddamn mask.

I had to be ready to allow something in my life that was bigger than obligation and regret.

But that drumbeat rattling my ribs knows something deeper–if we can’t pull these memories from deep inside her fragile mind–then I have no doubt I’ll lose her. She won’t be able to live with herself and I won’t be able to live without her.

Which means that whatever is blocking her from reaching those final memories has to be torn down.

“Drink this,” I say, filling a glass with water from the pitcher on the bar. “You need to stay hydrated.”

She takes the glass from me and drains the whole thing quickly.

“Can we start again?” I ask, pushing her hair back so I can see her eyes.

“I’m ready.”

I sit back on the floor and pull Arianette with me, keeping her between my legs so she can lean against my chest. She’s still tense beneath my hands, every muscle pulled tight as if she is waiting for something to come at her from the dark corners of the room. I wrap one arm around her waist and keep my other hand on her forearm, rubbing slowly over the skin there until her breathing begins to slow to a steady pace. The candles throw a soft, uneven glow across the den, and for a moment I let her exist here with me. There is no rush in my touch, even though every second matters. Somewhere beyond these walls, men are tearing Forsyth apart looking for the missing, and I have no idea how much time we have left. But if I push her too hard, she will shut down again, and that won't help anyone.

"You don't have to find everything at once," I tell her quietly. "Just find the next thing."

She swallows and nods against my chest.

"The next thing after the cell," I remind her. "Don't think about the hospital. Don't think about being chased through the forest. Forget everything you already know. What is the last thing you remember before you escaped?"

Her brow furrows.

"Nothing."

"That's okay. Don't force it."

I slide my hand down her arm and lace my fingers through hers, giving her something solid to hold. "You remember the cell. You remember being there for days. You remember the masked demon. You remember being cold and hungry. So don't try to jump past it. Stay there for a minute."

Her breathing changes almost immediately.

I feel the tension return to her shoulders, but this time I don't pull her out of it. I keep my hand wrapped around hers and let her go where she needs to go.

"What do you see?"

She breathes in and out, her chest rising and falling with every inhalation. When she speaks, her voice is barely audible. "The door."

"The cell door?"