Page 25

C hapter 25

Naya

The crispy morning sun bathes our surroundings in a glorious light as we stand outside an older building, its architecture reminiscent of a faraway era. The intricate details beg to be admired, and every window is decorated with art that draws inspiration from nature’s beauty and the gothic. Flowing lines and rhythmic patterns give an organic, almost living feeling—the perfect structure for a bookstore. I watch the building silently from across the road, staring at the long queue while waiting for people to enter.

Nerves eat me up from the inside, as if bugs are devouring all my organs until I’m left with nothing but bone. The uncertainty of what the day holds is what unnerves me the most—what if Everlee doesn’t want to be my friend anymore? What if she has forgotten about me?

There are too many ways this could go horribly wrong, and the thoughts make it impossible to stand still. I switch between bouncing on my toes and pacing back and forth.

The fall weather has blown in over England, carrying an unexpected chill that makes me cross my arms for warmth. Neither Grey nor I are dressed for this weather. The light sweaters Daxton gave us were meant for milder days. A faint mist escapes with each breath in the early morning.

My eyes are glued to the queue across the street—it’s impossible to miss the eagerness on every reader’s face. The line snakes around the more Gothic-like building, leading into the bookstore, where banners announcing the book signing flutter in the breeze. I fixate on the portrait of Everlee, a sense of pride warming my chest that has tears glazing my eyes. Everlee is beautiful, with a wide smile as she holds the book she released. She looks the same, yet so different from how she was at Grimhill Manor—more radiant.

Every ten minutes that pass, my body tingles with the need to flee, and Grey has to stop me several times from giving up. Readers leave the signing after their book has been signed, and my eyes are drawn to them like magnets. Some of them are smiling, happy that they met their favorite author, while some of them are crying—horrified at the truths that transpired at Grimhill Manor.

It’s hard to even think about it all—it feels as if I’m the one being exposed, my life shred open for all to watch and judge. The world knows our story—her story.

Before I can change my mind, Grey pulls me across the street. The longing is there, wanting to be closer to her and see her for the first time in a very long time. But as her voice filters through the store, amplified by speakers and a mic that carries the sound outside, I halt in my tracks.

“I wrote this book for all the survivors of kidnapping, human trafficking, sexual assault—whoever you are who have gone through anything against your will. May we hold on to that glimmer of hope. May we all learn and do better to protect the world.”

Cheers break out, along with sniffles, as the atmosphere becomes overwhelmed in a myriad of different emotions.

“Thank you all for coming here today.”

Readers pile out of the store in groups, not all at once. Guards outside watch us, and a flicker of doubt blooms inside of me, fearing they might somehow recognize who we are. When we pass them and head inside, they remain as unbothered as before, and my chest loosens as the anxiety melts away.

Once we enter, we stand to the side, pressed against the wall while the remaining readers get their copies signed.

I can’t help but smile, emotions of pride and melancholy overwhelming me. My beloved friend is up there, sitting at a table, signing books with a smile for everyone who comes to see her.

It’s a beautiful moment to see your friend so successful, doing something good for the world by telling her story about Grimhill Manor.

I don’t know how long we stand there, watching Everlee as she signs book after book, talking to her fans, who seem moved to tears as they share their own stories of heartbreak. Grey’s arm around my waist startles me, and I look up into his eyes. It isn’t until then I realize that I’m crying, tears blurring my vision. He kisses my forehead, and I smile at him before looking at Everlee once again.

An ache settles deep within. It’s been such a long time since I last saw her, after we tried escaping together.

“Excuse me?” a guard approaches from the side, and I can’t help the nervous flutter I feel in his presence—does he recognize us?

Grey turns around to face the guard, leveling him with a glare. “Yeah?”

“We have to close the venue soon. If you want your turn with Miss Everlee, you need to join the queue now.”

“Yes, of course. Sorry,” Grey replies as the guard turns around to walk to the doors again. “Come on, little doll. It’s your time.”

A wildfire rages inside me, causing my heart to pound with the force of a thousand flames. The room spins, dizziness settling in. Grey’s hold on me is the only thing keeping me grounded as I walk on wobbly legs toward the end of the queue, which is quickly dispersing as the event comes to an end.

I feel eyes watching me, but it’s not Everlee, who is engaged with the five remaining readers. In the corner of the bookstore stands a silhouette of a man, his frame largely built, and his gaze burning through my skin with a suspicious glint. I meet his eyes, cold as a winter day, glaring at me with daggers shooting ice. I swallow uncomfortably and turn my attention back to Everlee. He mirrors my movement and crosses his arms over his chest. He must be some kind of guard, and his presence makes me queasy.

There’s an uncertain sense of fear keeping me immobile as all insecurities of what could go wrong slither through my mind, wrapping tight like vines around a crumbling building. I retreat, but Grey’s hand comes around my waist in a firm grip that prevents me from going anywhere.

I can’t do this to her—I can’t let Everlee’s life be tainted by my demons. She has come so far since we tried to escape Grimhill Manor. I don’t have the right to ruin that.

Another step back, but Grey’s hand moves with me, his fingers closing around my throat with just enough pressure to make me draw in a sharp breath. Something coils deep within me as the action forces my gaze to his, intense as they pierce through me in a way that grounds me, despite the terror.

“Don’t hold back, little doll. We made it this far.” His voice is a harsh whisper, yet his eyes are soft as they look at me, as if I hung the moon for him.

I nod, the weight of his hand still on my throat, sliding up to brush against my lower lip. He pulls it down with a seductive touch, and I close my eyes.

Swallowing what feels like shards of glass tearing at my throat, I force myself to step deeper into the bookstore. My legs are like slime, ready to give way at any moment as chaos threatens to enrapture me. My hands are clammy, pulse pounding in my ears, and each raspy breath is a struggle for survival. I push on, if only because Everlee is there. Finding her has been our goal since we found out she was alive.

Grey’s touch slips away from me, allowing me to face this alone. He understands I need to approach Everlee by myself, but despite not being beside me, I feel his support through his burning gaze in my back, offering the courage I need. He’s always been my biggest supporter, helping me find myself, grounding me when things go dark in my mind, and supporting the woman I am deep down.

There are only a few meters separating me and Everlee, and it’s impossible to swallow; the glass shards will destroy me entirely, cut me up from the inside. Rows of bookshelves line my side in an aisle that opens up to a spacious area with chairs and an auditorium where she sits.

It’s now or never.

The building, old and worn, groans beneath me—the floorboards creak like a rusty gate that has never been oiled. The sound seems to echo through the bookstore, and I see Everlee’s shoulders stiffen before she quickly catches herself, relaxing again. Her eyes shift toward the noise, a smile playing on her lip-glossed lips as she likely expects another fan before wrapping up the event.

It’s in that moment our eyes clash together; two storms colliding into one, brewing something powerful and uncontrollable.

Instantly, all the missing pieces of my soul fall into its rightful place. We stare at each other, and the pen in her hand drops to the floor with a loud clatter, the sound amplified by the blood rushing in my ears.

Her face drains of color, her mouth falling open in shock.

Time seems to stretch forever as we stand there, locked in each other’s gaze, disbelief coating my tongue. Even now, I struggle to believe she’s here—a living, breathing human who actually exists and is not just a figment of my tortured mind.

She abruptly stands, the chair scraping loudly against the floor, sending a shiver through me. As she steps closer, her eyes take me in. I know what she sees—a dirty woman with chestnut brown hair hanging in unkempt tufts, shorter than when she last saw me with the once navy-blue tips finally gone, scars thick around my bare wrists where my jacket is pushed up to my forearms. No makeup, unlike her. While I look like the homeless person I’ve become, she radiates like a goddess of happiness.

But not now—now, she stares at me as if she’s seen a ghost.

It’s not until then that I notice the man who observed me earlier has walked up to her, standing slightly to the side with eyes intently roving over her—keeping a close eye. Up close, I see that he’s clad in a dark suit fitting his body well, arms pushed up to reveal a snake tattoo slithering around flowers and its leaves on the stem, covering most of his arm.

Everlee takes a hesitant step toward me, and I’m torn between watching her and the man behind her. His expression is a mix of concern and guarded distance, with an aura of unapproachability.

My world feels like it’s falling apart when she takes another step closer, eyes glazing over. My chest tightens painfully, my mind trying to make sense of what’s even happening.

Behind me, I feel Grey’s heavy gaze, guiding and guarding me toward this unknown future. A moment of silence passes before both me and Everlee run toward each other. If this is a lucid dream, I don’t ever want to wake up, not when she flings her arms around me in a tight embrace, her warmth enveloping my fragile, cold body.

Tears brim at the corner of my eyes, my chest tearing open at having her in my arms. She’s not dead.

Her sweet flowery scent fills my nostrils as she hugs me even closer, her grip not loosening for even a second. She’s trembling, sniffling, mirroring my own emotions as we both cling to each other—as if letting go will make the other one disappear into the wind.

My best friend.

Tears trickle down my cheeks, despite my futile attempts at stopping them.

“Are you real?” she almost stutters into my hair, and I hear her voice breaking.

“I’m real,” I say in a quivering voice, my nose stinging from crying, my tears soaking her hair and neck.

She meets my eyes—and my god, I’ve missed my best friend’s eyes. I never thought I would see her again. A smile splits her lips, causing me to smile too. I cannot help the laugh that escapes me, a feeling of disbelief and relief.

She’s truly here.

“How? What?” she asks, her eyebrows furrowed.

I shake my head, a cloud of anxiety washing over me. “Can I tell you later?”

Her eyes shift to Grey, who stands at the side of the room, before she looks back at me, nodding. I can see the unspoken questions in her eyes.

Both Grey and I are disheveled, far from the composed presence that she is, yet she doesn’t seem repulsed by our appearances.

“Of course,” she replies, her tone softer now.

The words catch in my throat. “I hate to ask a favor, but I’ve gotten into some trouble,” I force out, hating the admission.

She levels a sharp glance at Grey. “Is it him?”

“God, no,” I reply quickly, the idea catching me off guard.

Bewildered, she looks me up and down. “I would do anything for you. You were my light at Grimhill,” she says, her voice thick with emotion.

Silence falls between us as we simply stare at each other. There’s so much I wanted to say to her if I ever saw her again, but now that she’s right in front of me, the words are lost on me, my mind empty.

“Author, huh?” I finally manage.

She laughs, the sound clinging like beautiful bells in my ears.

“We need somewhere to lay low for a while until we can figure things out.”

She nods, concern written all across her face that hides beneath her happy facade. “I know a place.”

Turning, she addresses the man behind her, his face an unreadable mask.

“This is Naya,” she murmurs, and his eyes flicker with recognition at my name. His features soften, not as murderous as before—god, that man is intense.

Everlee reaches out her hand, and I take it, my heart warming at the gesture.

“Come,” she says, leading us out of the bookstore, with Grey following close behind.

The man with her guides us through the building and to a metal door that creaks as he opens it. He doesn’t speak as we walk, only taking us farther into a small garage with about ten cars, stopping at a green-black jeep.

A sensation of unease settles over me, realizing how much trust we’re placing in this man we don’t know. He could be taking us to kill us for all I know. But I do know Everlee, and I trust her more than anything.

He unlocks the car and lets us settle in the backseat.

“I will be back in a couple of minutes with Everlee,” he grumbles, closing the door behind us as he walks back into the store with Everlee in tow.

We sit in a comfortable silence that feels like an eternity before we see Everlee approaching the car, laughing at something the man says. She looks happy, and I can’t help the pang in my chest.

While she has built a life, doing something meaningful to help others, I have been stuck—at Dankworth Institute and the Dollhouse. Captured, broken, tortured, fucking ruined. It twists something deep inside me to think about it, and I know I shouldn’t feel this way, but I can’t help the jealousy.

They both settle into the car, and then we’re driving off into an uncertain future, the weight of our pasts, heavy in the thickened atmosphere.