Page 34

CHAPTER

THIRTY-ONE

Cam

Paigelynn stands by the window, holding Winnie in her arms, the tiny dog’s nose buried against her chest. The early light filters through the glass, bathing her in soft gold. She’s so still, but there’s something about the way she holds herself—tense, unsure.

I can tell she’s lost in her thoughts.

She’s always so quiet when she’s like this, like the weight of everything is too much to carry.

I step closer, keeping my footsteps light, not wanting to disturb her. She doesn’t flinch when I place my hands on her waist, but her shoulders stiffen for a moment before she relaxes into my touch. Her hair smells faintly of lavender, and I press a soft kiss to the side of her neck.

“What are you thinking?” I ask gently, resting my chin on her shoulder.

Her hand pauses on Winnie’s back, and she lets out a small, shaky sigh. “I don’t know,” she says, her voice quiet. “I guess... everything. It’s all so much, Cam.”

I tighten my arms around her, pulling her back against me. “Talk to me,” I say, my lips brushing her ear. “What feels like too much?”

She doesn’t answer right away. Her gaze stays fixed on the window, her fingers stroking Winnie’s fur. “I don’t know how to be normal,” she whispers. “I don’t even know what normal is.”

Her words hit me hard, but I don’t let it show. She's said this a few times since we arrived at the safehouse. I don't have an answer.

I press another kiss to her neck, lingering there, hoping to ease some of her tension. “What does normal look like to you?” I ask, my voice low.

“That’s the thing,” she says, shaking her head.

“I don’t know. I’ve never had normal, Cam.

My whole life, I’ve been told what to eat, what to think, what to do.

I don’t even know how to trust my own body.

I don’t know what it needs. When I’m hungry, I second-guess it, wondering if I’m supposed to eat or if I’m just doing something wrong. ”

Her voice breaks slightly, and I feel her trembling against me.

“Twelve years,” she whispers. “Twelve years of following their rules, and it was all lies. Everything they taught me was a lie. Debbie made some joke about the Civil War the other day, and I didn’t even know what it was.

Turns out, it was the bloodiest war in American history.

Cam, how do I not know something so basic?

What else don’t I know? How am I supposed to catch up? ”

Her words twist like a knife in my chest. I rest my forehead against her shoulder, holding her tighter. “You don’t have to know everything right now,” I say. “We’ll take it slow. Step by step.”

“But what if it’s too late?” she says, her voice trembling. “What if I’m always this lost? What if I’m too far behind?”

“It’s not too late,” I say firmly, turning her slightly so I can look at her. “You’re not behind, Paigelynn. You’re starting over. And that’s okay.”

Her eyes meet mine, filled with tears and frustration. “Do you know how stupid I feel?” she says, her voice cracking. “I don’t know anything. I don’t even know how to live in this world. How am I supposed to trust myself? How am I supposed to trust anything?”

I reach up, cupping her face in my hands.

My thumbs brush away the tears slipping down her cheeks.

“You’re not stupid,” I say, my voice steady.

“You’re one of the smartest, strongest people I’ve ever known.

What they did to you wasn’t your fault. They tried to control you, to make you doubt yourself.

But you broke free. Most people wouldn't have done what you did, crouching down low in that boat, returning their fire, after all you'd been through. That’s strength, Paigelynn. That’s who you are. ”

Her breath hitches, and she lowers Winnie to the floor. The little dog scampers off to her favorite spot by the couch, curling up with a soft huff.

Paigelynn turns fully to face me, her hands sliding up to my shoulders. Her fingers tremble slightly as they brush the back of my neck. “How do you always know the right thing to say?” she whispers.

“I don’t,” I admit, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “I just... know how it feels. I know what it’s like to be controlled. To feel like your whole life is a lie.”

She tilts her head, her eyes searching mine. “That's true. You do.”

I nod, my chest tightening. “I never told you much about the Gaia cult,” I say.

“But it wasn’t all that different. They controlled everything—what we ate, what we wore, what we believed.

I thought I was escaping when Dominic took me in after Mira died and the cult was broken up, but it turns out I was just trading one kind of control for another. ”

Her brow furrows. “But... The Mother – your mother – wasn’t part of your life with Dominic, right?”

“No,” I say quietly. “The Luisis kept me separate from all of that. I didn’t know about the organ trafficking.

I didn’t even know about the prophecy. I wasn’t blood-related to the Luisis, so they didn’t let me in on their ‘family secrets.’ I thought they were just..

. rich. Powerful. That they wanted to help me. ”

“Why did they adopt you, then?” she asks softly.

I hesitate, my throat tightening. The truth feels like a weight in my chest, but I force it out. “Angelina,” I say. “She wanted me there in case she needed my heart.”

Paigelynn recoils, her eyes widening in horror. “What?” she whispers.

“She never told me,” I say, my voice low. “But now I understand. I wasn’t part of the prophecy. I was a convenient backup plan. If she couldn’t get what she needed from someone else, I was there, just in case. We're not the closest in terms of tissue typing, but...”

Her hands tighten on my shoulders, her breath coming faster. “She’s dead now,” she says, her voice trembling with anger. “She can’t hurt you anymore.”

I nod, but the weight doesn’t lift. “It’s hard to wrap my head around,” I admit. “For years, I thought Dominic took me in because he saw something in me. Because I mattered to him. Now I know it was all manipulation. Just another way to keep control.”

Her gaze softens, and she steps closer, her arms wrapping around my waist. “You matter to me,” she says quietly. "You saved me."

I pull her close, my chin resting on her head. “You matter to me too,” I say, my voice steady. “More than anything. And you saved me, too.”

We stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms. The weight of everything feels a little lighter with her here, like we can carry it together. I pull back slightly, my hands resting on her waist, and she looks up at me, her eyes filled with emotion.

“You’re not alone in this,” I say firmly. “We’ll figure it out together. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

She nods, her lips trembling. “I don’t know why you stay,” she whispers. “Why you put up with all of this.”

I smile, brushing a tear from her cheek. “I stay because I love you,” I say simply. “And because you’re worth it. Every second. Every struggle. You’re worth all of it.”

Her breath catches, and she leans in, her lips brushing against mine. The kiss starts soft, hesitant, but it deepens quickly. She pours everything into it—her fear, her hope, her need. I hold her tightly, my hands sliding up her back, grounding her, grounding myself.

When we finally pull back, she rests her forehead against mine, her breath warm against my skin. “Thank you,” she whispers.

“For what?” I ask.

“For helping me believe I can do this,” she says.

I smile, pressing another kiss to her forehead. “You can,” I say. “And I’ll be here every step of the way.”

Her eyes close, and for the first time, I see a flicker of peace on her face. It’s small, fragile, but it’s there.

And I’ll do everything I can to keep it alive.