Page 15

“How did you get that?” Wade points to the scar that runs along her collarbone and down past her shirt. She’s hidden it well until now, but he can see it peeking out where the button on her top has popped open.

“Silas.”

One word. One name. Enough explanation on its own to have his blood pressure rising and his face doing that thing that only happens when he’s trying not to explode in a rage. His eyes squeeze shut, and his nose scrunches while he fights it. “How?”

“One of his men got the jump on me last year. I usually picked them off from a distance, but I didn’t see him patrolling the woods until it was too late.”

Rather than boil over beside her, he bolts off the bed, paces the length of the room, and shoves his hand through the far wall.

Plaster crumbles under his effort before he can put conscious thought to the action.

A litany of curses drip out as fast as the blood from busted knuckles, but at least the pain is familiar.

“I’m gonna kill him,” he growls, sliding down the wall until his ass hits the floor. “Blow his fucking head off.” He has dreamed of all the ways he would murder that bastard when he finally got the chance, and now that he knows Kara has suffered at Silas’s hand too, his bloodlust only grows.

“I know. I’ll help you.”

She doesn’t tell him to let it go. That Silas isn’t worth it. That the only way forward is to put this behind him. Maybe because she clearly has no intention of putting any of this behind her yet, either.

None of the expected responses are offered, and he’s never been more grateful for anything unless he counts the fact that she rescued him herself.

Letting this go isn’t an option. Silas has done more than ruin years of his life and steal his memory.

He’s taken almost everything Wade has left.

Almost. Then he tried to take Kara. He won’t wait around for her to end up in danger again.

The desire to kill him isn’t new, but it’s lain dormant for a while in favor of focusing on survival.

Now, it flares to life again, bright as ever and with renewed motivation.

“We have to be smart about this,” she says. “We need a plan. We can get him, but not now and not yet.”

He nods because what else can he do? He’s in no shape to go after anyone. Can barely leave the bedroom, let alone hunt down the enemy who left him unable to function. “Don’t want you a part of this. You’ll only get hurt because of me. That’s what he does. Takes everything.”

“I’m already in this, Wade. I’ve been in it since you disappeared. It’s too late to walk away now. We do it together. When we’re ready.”

It’s both a request and a firm statement that leaves no room for negotiation. If he tried to go alone, she’d only follow, anyway.

Not for the first time, he wonders what he did to deserve her unwavering loyalty and comes up empty as always. He doesn’t deserve her, plain and simple. He never has.

“Alright. Together,” he agrees. “It’s a stupid fucking plan though.”

He spies the barest hint of a smirk on her face through his curtain of hair.

“Don’t have a plan yet, but rest assured that when we do, it’ll probably still be stupid.”

He thunks his head back against the wall, cradling his self-inflicted hand injury.

How they’ll take Silas down is a conversation for another day.

Her next words have what little resolve he’s gathered ready to crumble for how tender they are, wrapped in the comfort he wants to feel but can only hear.

“I don’t want you blaming yourself for this.” Her fingers trace that deep scar. “Nothing that’s happened has been your fault.”

He’s doing that face scrunch again that keeps him from completely breaking apart, but the tears still slip free against his will.

Her voice is all honey, easy and sweet. He’s full of hard edges now, even worse than before, and she’s the only one who can gently coax the softest parts of him out into the open again.

“I’m so fucking glad I still have you,” he whispers. “That’s all I need.”

“Always. You always have me.”

* * *

She finds him a dark blue t-shirt, a wet cloth, and an old bottle of peroxide.

Wade treats his own wounds, hissing at the sizzle. He’s ready to collapse where he sits. Wants to crawl into her lap and let her stroke the back of his neck until he falls asleep, but settles for the next best thing.

“Can I sleep in your bed?” It’s an innocent question until what he’s said catches up to him and his blush runs scarlet.

“Sure.”

Kara takes over his spot on the taller bed and he claims the mattress she slept on last night.

The pillow smells like her. He nuzzles into it, pretending she’s here with him instead of a foot and one level away. Sleep comes quickly, but it’s not at all peaceful.

Wade doesn’t dream of the prison he left behind. He dreams of Kara. Though not in the way he’s grown accustomed to.

She was always a safe haven for him before, coming to him in his darkest moments to provide relief and encouragement. Now, she brings his worst fears to life.

She’s in the cell, her hands tied together like his were at first. The rope chaffing a red ring into her pale skin.

Silas drags her away, leaving him a sobbing mess on the concrete floor, the burn of the whip sizzling hot enough he can hear it through the wall.

Kara is all he has left, the only thing he cares about, and Silas makes it his job to strip away what keeps him human. Losing her would be like snipping the last tether that holds him here, so that’s what his brain crafts into a nightmare.

He throws himself at the door, screaming her name at the top of his lungs until he’s hoarse and dry. Then she’s back like she never left, pressed up against the wall while an awful memory plays out on someone he loves.

“This is how shit works around here,” one of them whispers in her ear. “You give a little to get a little. Want more food? More blankets? Time outside? An easier opponent in the fighting pit? Then just go with it.”

A wandering hand disappears between her legs and he wants to vomit. He remembers how he head-butted that asshole for getting handsy with him, watching blood flow from a cracked nose and leaving the other man passed out on the cell floor.

Wade lost a back tooth for his objection, then a toe, and then he stopped objecting.

“ Wade …”

She’s calling out his name so clearly that he’s certain she’s real this time.

He fights harder to reach her until something connects with his back and his eyes fly open, jerking on reflex to strike out at whatever might be close.

The cell transforms into the bedroom of the blue house, and the Kara from his nightmares is replaced by the one who is still safe and untouched.

“You were dreaming. It’s okay, it’s not real,” she tells him, from the safety of the bed clear across the room.

He’s rolled off the mattress and started a fight with the chair she normally reads in. His foot is wedged against the wooden leg and the wall, and he gingerly pulls it free.

Moonlight shimmers across her face, transforming her into a hologram for a brief moment. He gasps, convinced he’s not really awake. Silas is about to march in and replay another one of his punishments on repeat and he won’t be strong enough to save her.

His fingers find the hair tie around his wrist, rubbing so frantically he’s surprised it doesn’t snap apart under the pressure.

“I have a tattoo on my lower back. Did I ever tell you about that?” she asks, offering up a fact he desperately needs to clear the fog.

“No.”

“Not something you might have made up?”

“No.” He shakes his head, exhaling hard, but still gripping the bracelet under his palm.

He’s not primed to explode anymore, so she takes a chance to come closer, sliding down beside him. Her bent knee could touch his if tilted just right, but it stays still.

“Didn’t take you for the tattoo type.”

She smiles. “I got it during those years you were stationed in Maine. Never said anything about it. Didn’t feel important.”

He snorts on reflex, surprised he can be amused by anything after that nightmare. “What is it?”

She’s good at this. Know what buttons to push to calm him and make everything seem normal again. Safe. Easy.

“An infinity symbol. Very original, I know. It looked pretty in the booklet of examples and I just wanted to feel something. Do you wanna see it?”

Of course he wants to see it. He nods, mesmerized, as she turns to lift her shirt, exposing the smooth expanse of her lower back and revealing a small black infinity symbol.

What happens next is something neither of them are prepared for. His fingertips brush the warmth of her skin on an impulse to touch that catches them both off guard. She twitches the barest bit in surprise and he flinches backward, shocking himself that he’d done that at all.

There’s an apology ready on his tongue for assuming permission while he grapples with the fact that he touched her and the world didn’t end.

The two of them have only touched during goodbye hugs and reunion hugs.

They aren’t tactile with each other. Maybe because a part of him has always feared crossing a line with his best friend if he gave himself the barest bit of slack.

“No, it’s okay,” she says quickly. “You can touch me. I want you to.”

In any other situation, her request, coupled with how she arches her back, offering herself up with eager anticipation, would come across far differently. Right now, in the shadow of everything they’ve been through, it’s only an attempt to harness an unexpected step in the right direction.

It’s easier if he’s the one touching her instead of the other way around. He’s in control and there’s a comfort in that he wishes he didn’t need.

She waits patiently while he struggles with something simple. Goosebumps rise up across her skin when he finally makes contact. Her shoulders unhitch and head bows, spine curving a fraction while he traces her tattoo with a single finger.