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CHAPTER

TWELVE

MIKAEL

TWO WEEKS EARLIER

Blink.

My eyes shoot open, and the dark room expands into my vision.

Blink. Blink.

The fog in my mind begins to lift. With my head down, I struggle to breathe through the cloth covering my face. As I try to adjust to my surroundings, I stumble around in a disoriented, half-awake state.

I scan the room and see her through the two slits in my eyes. A precious bundle in front of me. She’s sleeping sitting up, as if she was positioned that way, her head hanging to the side, her hair flowing over her face. She’s positioned the way Shadowface positioned all his victims.

Being around her always brings about a tightness in my chest that threatens to consume me.

My eyes are alert now.

Pretty girl… My pretty girl is in front of me.

I roll my shoulders and tilt my head from side to side, cracking my neck. My body is tight, unfamiliar, and twinges in places it shouldn’t.

I lift my hand and curl my fingers into a fist as I regain my senses and get a good feel for my body again. It’s stronger than I remember. A surge of power pulses through me.

My vision strays to the open window, the way the moonlight streams in over her perfect face. Everything is the same, but different.

The vein in my neck pulses.

What was he about to do to her? Why is he in her room?

I look around, my eyes finally adjusting to the light. This space is nothing like her childhood bedroom, where I would visit her a few times a year when I was able to. If it were up to me, I would have visited her more, but distance was a factor.

So where are we right now, pretty girl? All grown up.

The trees outside cast long shadows against the small bedroom walls and arched ceilings. Everything about this place seems to belong to a different time and a different reality. The only constants are the open window and the pretty girl sleeping in front of me.

The rage that ignites inside me is familiar, too. So much rage. A wave of it nearly consumes me.

My attention draws right to her smooth neck and her chest, that rises and falls with her precious breath. As if waiting for me.

My cock stirs to life, remembering the last time we were together. My final memory⁠—

If it’s possible, she’s even prettier than she was before, and I hate her for it. I hate her perfect face. So flawless.

My senses are now dominated by a painful erection.

Summer shifts in her sleep, and I move on instinct toward her. To touch her, to kill her before an invisible string pulls me back.

There he is… I was wondering when I would sense him. My instincts were screaming at me to act, sending electric jolts through me, a constant reminder that I am not in complete control of my body.

Lincoln’s been in control for a long time—I can tell by the unfamiliarity of my senses. The muscles are tighter, the bones are bigger. Like the elasticity of my skin doesn’t match my movements.

So why am I awake now?

Summer. Summer woke me.