Page 24

C hapter 24

Naya

It’s over.

Those are the only two words I can focus on as I lean my head against Grey’s shoulder, his arm wrapping around me in a secure grip.

Yet I know it’s not over. Only because Emilio Ricci is dead does not mean we’re not still fugitives escaping the law—perhaps even more so now. Even if all my three tormentors are in the pits of hell doesn’t mean I’m freed from them. The scars will always linger, like that extra baggage you can’t get rid of.

Exhaustion has me feeling utterly drained, as if a soul-sucking monster have stolen everything left inside me. It’s hard to believe everything happened yesterday, less than twenty-four hours since I believed I’d lost Grey. A shudder courses through me, and I close my eyes tightly, my nails digging hard into my palms. We’re back in Millvale town after walking for hours.

We had to find shelter in the damned basement at Grimhill Manor for a few hours until Grey restored his energy. My beautiful, broken man.

The look in Grey’s fading eyes as he told me about Everlee’s signing next week has my inside bursting with a newfound energy as I tighten my hold on his hand. A new sort of purpose of life has grown inside me, festering so deep that it has left me with hope of surviving the hell we have lived through.

If only I could see her again, hold her in my embrace, and feel the scent of her sweet, flowery perfume. The longing is so urgent inside me, it feels as if I might pass out—nothing of this feels real, as if I’m living a lucid dream and will soon wake up isolated at Dankworth Institute.

I found Rebecca after I lost Everlee, and she was the glimmer of a new light I needed. But then I lost her too, and I will never get over the tearing of my soul, the emptiness clawing its way through skin and bone, at finding her dead body hanging from the tree.

I miss them both so much.

The darkness of the night falls over the horizon, bringing a gloomy hue that’s illuminated by the few stars scattered across the sky. I can’t help but stare at it while sitting on a bench by the bus station. It still feels too surreal to be able to do that—the freedom is hard to grasp, and I wonder if I’ll ever get over it. Perhaps it will forever be etched into my mind like a permanent tattoo that leaves its marks and creates scars. Grey wraps a blanket around my shoulders, holding me tight as if he doesn’t dare let me go.

“It’s beautiful,” I whisper as I look in awe up at the sky, watching as it lits up like a painting, stars twinkling like diamonds, sparkling with color against the black abyss.

I can feel his breath against my neck, his hand resting there as he presses a tender kiss to the nape of my neck. A warm, primal heat stirs within me, a stark contrast to the chilling sense of unease gnawing at the edges of my mind.

“You’re fucking beautiful, darling. Nothing can ever compete with that.”

A smile plays on my lips, but beneath it is a dark foreboding. It feels as though an ominous wave is approaching, drowning us like a tsunami and sweeping away everything we’ve fought so hard for. The dread of impending doom lingers, where everything will disappear in the blink of an eye and Emilio will find us again even after we cut out the tracking chip.

The mere thought of that device being inside my skin fills me with a revulsion that I struggle to push aside.

Emilio is dead.

Frederick is dead.

Arthur is fucking dead.

But in the recesses of mind, they’re all still very much alive.

The loud roar of an approaching engine cuts through the peaceful silence. A bus rumbles toward us, its headlights slicing through the darkness as it parks right before the station. There are only a few scattered passengers milling about the station, approaching the vehicle quietly, as if no one dares utter a word in the night.

Grey rises from the bench, grabbing our backpack and slinging it over his shoulder as he strides toward the bus with a determined gait. I follow closely behind him, my eyes anxiously scanning the passengers, searching for any hint that they somehow might be onto us, ready to turn us over to the authorities.

Paranoia has intensified with each day since our escape—everyone feels like an enemy, someone out to hurt us, and I can’t help but see the worst in people. If trusting others was hard before, it’s become nearly impossible now.

Boarding the bus should be easy, but it’s not, and the overwhelming urge to flee pulses through me. Even if we’re moving toward a potential, though fraught, safety.

The streetlight casts eerie shadows across the nearly deserted bus station, creating a landscape of shifting darkness. I stick close to the bus, my senses heightened as I watch Grey speak to the driver. Every snap of a twig outside causes my heart to clench painfully.

As Grey hands over cash for our two tickets, the bus driver eyes him suspiciously. Our funds are dwindling fast, and soon, we’ll have nothing left—spending our last reserves in the hope of finding Everlee.

After many seconds of silence where the driver merely stares at us, he lets us through, and my shoulders sag with the breath of relief escaping me. Several passengers are scattered about—some asleep, others absorbed in their phones. No one seems to pay us any mind as we make our way to the back, luckily finding it empty. I scrutinize each face, searching for any sign of Emilio.

He’s fucking dead.

Despite my attempts to reassure myself, my heart pounds relentlessly, a wild rhythm that feels as if it will shatter my ribcage.

We settle into the back, where two seats are vacant but isolated from the rest of the passengers. Grey silently gestures for me to take the window seat, and the thought of him wanting to protect me in that way stirs something deep in my stomach. It’s not long until the bus starts with a low rumble, the engine’s hum vibrating through the seats.

Soon, the vehicle drives out onto an empty street without any traffic this time of night. Trees and houses pass by in a haste, becoming a blurry picture in my eyes, until finally the houses disappear and only an endless forest stretches beside the road.

Memories crash over me like a punch to the temple, dragging me back to the day we escaped the dollhouse with Daxton. The surroundings now mirror those same harrowing moments.

You’re delusional.

Yet the sense of panic comes over me as I glance at Grey, seeing his eyes closing from exhaustion. The anxiety spirals, urging me to cross one knee over the other, removing my shoe and sock to be able to peel at the skin on my scarred heel. The sharp pain provides a twisted sense of stability. It anchors me amidst the chaos of a world falling apart around us.

A profound sense of isolation floods me like a bucket of cold water. It’s a loneliness so deep it feels as if we’re the only two people left on earth, despite the other passengers on the same bus. They have no idea what it’s like to be ensnared in the clutches of human trafficking—because I realize that’s exactly what Grimhill Manor was after reading the news articles. None of them know the torment of being imprisoned in a corrupt mental institution and subjected to relentless torture for months on end.

No one will ever be able to understand our pain, and that in itself is a loneliness impossible to comprehend.

I’ve lived in the darkness my entire life, never once finding reprieve from it.

Continuing to pick at the skin, the pain soothes my frayed nerves. Each touch makes the skin increasingly sensitive, yet I can’t bring myself to stop. Suddenly, I feel another hand on mine, causing my body to flinch. I peer up at Grey, whose eyes hold an intensity that makes my insides tighten, my lips parting slightly.

“Don’t fucking hurt yourself,” he growls in my ear, his grip firm as he places my hand in his lap where he refuses to let go.

The streetlamps outside cast intermittent light on Grey’s face. I run my hand through his shorter hair, newly cut and dyed—just as it was when I first met him at Dankworth Institute. God, it was such a long time ago now, and merely thinking back to all those moments when we stubbornly avoided our emotions brings a smile to my face.

An hour later, the bus pulls into another station. By now, Grey is lightly snoring beside me, his arm protectively slung over my shoulders. I glance out the window, where the sprawling silhouette of a large, modern building looms.

Some passengers shuffle wearily, gathering their belongings in a quiet rustle as they prepare to disembark. Only one lone figure steps onto the bus. Dressed in dark clothes with a hood shadowing most of his face, he pays the driver and moves forward.

I watch him intently, analyzing every detail. A chill grips me when I catch sight of the badge clipped to his jeans, half-hidden but unmistakable. Nobody else seems to notice; oblivious to his presence, and even if they saw the badge, they wouldn’t recognize it.

But I do.

My mind sharpens, a persisting cloud of paranoia as I stay on high alert, haunted by inner demons and the predators roaming this world. In the dim light, the badge glints, his portrait and the words “Special Police” searing itself into my memory.

Lifting his gaze, he scans the bus. I quickly lower my head, hunching over and trying to make myself as small as possible. The color drains from my face, and I let my hair fall forward, creating a curtain to shield my features. Shit.

I feel his footsteps pounding against the bus’s floor as he walks down the aisle, searching for an available seat. Thunder roars inside my body, louder than it usually does in the skies. Deep breaths accompany my swallowing panic as I keep an eye on the man, settling down in the seat two rows before ours.

My entire body is on edge, waiting for the worst. The only thing I’m able to focus on is the immediate threat, making the rest of my surroundings fade into the background. My shoulders are too stiff, aching uncomfortably.

I’m unable to relax the rest of the journey, my leg bouncing up and down as I keep a close watch on the police farther ahead. My guard remains up, every nerve alert. When the bus finally arrives at our destination, I gently shake Grey awake. I press myself close to Grey as we exit the bus after everyone else.

The station is sprawling with people, despite it being night, with the moon hidden behind thick clouds. I quietly observe the other passengers as they grab their bags, hailing taxis or waiting for rides. My hand instinctively finds Grey’s as we stand in silence, waiting for the crowd to thin out—we can never be too careful. Just as we’re about to leave the station, a dark and commanding voice stops us in our tracks. I swallow harshly, remembering that I never saw the police leave.

“Excuse me?”

Grey turns, and I lift my head, trying to portray a collected demeanor even as my insides are on fire. Hesitation flickers across his face but is quickly concealed.

“Yeah?” Grey asks in his grumbling voice.

The officer surveys us from head to toe, scrutinizing us inch by agonizing inch. A flat sense of anxiety settles over me, and I’m certain that if he met my eyes, he would see the barely contained note of hysteria.

He smiles, his eyes brimming with malice. His slightly down-turned eyes narrow as he pulls out his badge, holding it until it catches the dull glow of the streetlights.

“I’m with the police. I’ve received information that you fit into.”

Out of the corner of my eye, Grey takes a step back, me following shortly thereafter. The officer notices, his hand moving to the black belt at his waist, previously hidden beneath his hoodie. Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion. Another step, and Grey’s eyes dart between the officer and the belt. Without warning, Grey turns and bolts, pulling me harshly along with him. I stumble, fighting to regain my balance, as we flee into the night.

The darkness devours us as we dash away from the building, quickly veering toward the adjacent one. Our train connects with the bus line, but we have to lose him before we board, only hoping he won’t follow.

“What the hell are we supposed to do?” I hiss at Grey.

“I don’t know,” he replies, voice strained as we sprint.

My feet hit the asphalt road at the same pace as Grey’s do, each thump mirroring the frantic rhythm of my racing heart.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out behind us, ricocheting off my ears and jolting me back to moments I never want to relive. It becomes harder to breathe, but I continue to push forward, clinging to the thought of freedom. Neither of us is hit, so we continue forward.

I make the mistake of glancing back right as we round the corner of the building, nearly slamming into the wall. The policeman is still standing where we left him, now slowly advancing forward with a gun in hand. He lowers it after firing into the air—he wasn’t trying to kill us.

One step, two steps, and he’s getting closer to us, but now we have rounded the corner, and I can no longer see him in my field of vision.

A heavy feeling settles deep within me at the realization that he might not have been an officer after all, but I don’t voice my thoughts.

What if he is associated with Emilio? The thought of it makes bile rise up my throat.

Adrenaline fuels my steps as I push forward, staying close behind Grey.

“The train goes in two minutes,” Grey grumbles.

It’s hard finding our way inside the massive building, but the signs overhead guide us, along with the last passengers overhead entering the train.

Distant rumbling echoes in my ears as the conductor prepares for departure. With a last surge of desperation, knowing this is our only chance, we sprint toward the platform just as the train’s doors begin to close. With barely a second to spare, we slip through, the hissing sound of the doors sealing shut behind us.

The world outside blurs as the train pulls away and picks up speed. There, on the platform, stands none other than the officer, a murderous glint in his eyes as he stares at us through the train’s window. We made it through.

And finally, we are on our way to Everlee’s book signing in London.