Page 29

Sensation: Touch, taste, smell, hear, and see.

H ow long could I deny what I could feel?

Sensing Pharaoh, seeing him from the corner of my eye as I spoke to the cop in front of me was…nope. I wasn’t going to look at the professor. Glancing his way was not an option. I needed to get home. Ferdinand would wake up soon, and if I wasn’t home when he came to fetch me…

My eyes drifted toward Pharaoh. No matter how hard I tried to stay away from this man—I couldn’t help it. If I was being honest with myself, he had my sole focus.

He was standing in the distance next to a blonde haired cop. He seemed to be in charge from how he talked to Pharaoh.

The professor swayed—oh god. My body leaned toward him, but I forced myself to stand still because the cop grabbed onto his big body.

Why did he look like he was going to puke?

“Miss? You were saying…” I blinked, looking back to the jabbering rookie in front of me.“That you were walking in the cemetery, you heard a noise, and…”

Framing Pharaoh for the nutcase he’d been was the correct choice, right?

After tonight, it was clear he belonged in the asylum.

Plus, I was sure it had something to do with a cover-up job about the asylum—how quickly it fell to the ground and how quickly a ‘2.0’ version popped up after it burned down.

My conviction would be enough to put him away again, and the report credit for the story of unmasking a killer would make the money I needed to break myself of the fucked up contract my family had with Ferdinand.

I would be free. I would be—

Pharaoh fell to his knees, the cop beside him leaning down to hold him in a manly embrace.

He was crying, his body shaking with a pain I couldn’t comprehend. I took off running, my feet seeming to move on their own accord to the insane man on the other side of the lot.

The police officer was yelling at me, but I didn’t care. Let him be confused. Let them think I was guilty right now because I ran away from giving a statement regarding a murder.

I was choosing not to stop.

I got to the giant on the ground, but his words were a stream of nonsensical sentences.

“It wasn’t him. He was right,” he said, body wracked with deep, gut-wrenching sobs.

The blond-haired detective tried his best to console him, but Pharaoh couldn’t see past his pain and whatever hell was running through his mind.

Just because it was invisible to everyone else didn’t mean it didn’t exist. I knew that all too well.

I lived a life of cushiony bullshit, but in reality, I was just as insane as… him.

I was a hypocrite.

I got to my knees, holding my professor’s face in my hands like I had done before, trying to break through the barrier of his pain.

“I’m here, Pharaoh. See me? I am here. I’ve got you.”

The detective gawked over at me. His expression was one of curiosity and awe. I didn’t have time to explain to the nice cop what the fuck I even was to my professor. I just knew he needed me.

“I’m here, Pharaoh. It’s okay. It’s going to be all right, baby.”

The heavily tattooed seven-foot-something man looked into my eyes. His crystalline green eyes were filled with so much torment that it broke my heart.

“I’m not strong enough,” he said softly. “He was right. I failed her. I failed Xenia.”

I frowned, looking over to the detective for some kind of clarity.

“I don’t understand,” I told the cop. “Who is Xenia?”

The blue-eyed man looked down, his face falling. “His daughter, Miss. She is buried here, along with her mother.”

I gasped. Pharaoh was visiting his…family.

“Oh god,” I said, my mind reeling.

I was so awful to him, blinded by my pain. I never dreamed a man on the ground was mourning, too.

Why didn’t I?

He was in a fucking cemetery. I just couldn’t see past his goddamn beauty and his blunt, dangerous edge. It was why I figured out he was part of the asylum in the first place. You can leave the walls of a prison, but the prison doesn’t leave you.

It was clear by the mammoth of a man in front of me on his knees having a panic attack that he still lived in those walls. His mind was still a part of those echoes. I pulled his head to my chest, cushioning his cheek onto my breasts, leaning down to sit and cradle him on the ground.

He cried harder the tighter I held him, his tears rolling down his blank face. He barely even blinked. I smoothed his hair.

“Detective, there is a girl in one of the graves who was killed! The killer cut the baby out of her. She was nine months pregnant. And he shot her. We heard the gunshots. She dropped into the hole, and the killer ran away.”

The detective blinked, stumbling to grab his pad and pen while I word-vomited the experience that would never leave my mind.

“I’m sorry. How are you and Pharaoh Masters acquainted?”

An uncomfortable warmth spread over my face. “Uh. He is my psychology professor at Charity University?”

The detective was good at his job. His face barely moved as he scribbled down more notes.

“And what were you and your professor doing when you heard the shots? Where were you?”

I blushed even more. My face became a damn tomato.

“Uh…well…” I couldn’t exactly say we were locked in a coffin that he got us trapped in after chasing me in a devil mask, and we heard the gunshots after he fingered me and ate my ass.

“Talking,” I finished lamely.

The detective’s small, sly smile vanished as quickly as it appeared. There and gone.

“I heard the baby, and I ran toward the cries,” I continued, trying to ignore the heat I felt.

Pharaoh was quiet now, his eyes closed and his breathing settling down. I didn’t move him, and I kept rubbing his head. Baby Xavier was being checked out and cleaned up by the paramedics, and I could see they were finishing up.

“Detective, that’s my nephew. I really need to get to him, but I…”

I looked down at Pharaoh, who was finally at peace in his mind as he slept on my lap. I didn’t want to disturb him.

“I understand. My name is Micah Quinn. I have known your professor for a long time. I can get him home. Why don’t you go and take care of your nephew? I will be back at Mercy’s Medical Center later on to finish up your statement. For now, just get some rest. Thank you, Miss Summers.”

Pharaoh barely moved when his friend jostled him onto a stretcher and put a blanket over him.

The rain had died down finally, and the sun was starting to come up. I was so tired. I kissed Pharaoh’s forehead. “Sleep well, professor asshat. You are okay. You are safe.”

He smiled in his sleep.

The paramedics let me in the back, and I snuggled Xavy into my arms. He was cleaned up from all the blood, and his little body was burritoed into a blanket. What was it with babies and smelling like sweetness and innocence?

I felt so at peace with him in my arms.

And I felt warm with Pharaoh in mine…