She's here.
Her.
The girl who left me bleeding, bound, and half ash.
And just like that, it all floods back. The pain—raw, electric, crawling beneath my skin. The choking taste of that moldy rag jammed in my mouth. The helplessness as sunlight crept across the floor, inching toward me while I had no defenses.
Rage simmers beneath the surface, dark and molten. The part of me that never forgets is already salivating at the thought of retribution. Sweet, brutal retribution.
Asher's focused on getting her inside. Always the damn soldier.
The storm kicks up just as we step into the house. Thunder rolls through the sky like a war drum.
"Turn up the heat," Asher says, already barking orders like I'm one of his men.
I'm not. But still, I toss a few logs into the fireplace. Flames roar to life. So does something in me.
I want her awake. Just not for the same reasons he does.
I want to see the look in those big, green eyes when they land on me. The panic. The recognition. The realization that I'm not dead.
Not even close.
"This is going to be a grand reunion," I murmur, watching as Asher lays her down on the sofa. "I've got many questions for our mystery guest. And I intend to get answers." I smile, feral and sharp. "Oh, I do."
Asher shoots me a look. "You're sure it's her?"
I scoff. "Like I could forget someone who—"
I stop myself.
I told him the story. The girl in the black dress with blood-red detail. The bait.
But not the details. Not how it felt.
How some part of me knew I was walking into a trap, but I followed her anyway. How warm her lips were against mine. How her breath caught just before she kissed me. How her fingers gripped my shirt, like she couldn't decide whether to push me away or drag me under.
It felt real.
Then the bite. Her blood. It tasted like sunshine and warmth, life itself.
And then the metal walls. Chains. Clinical air. Fist cracking across my jaw.
I blink, and the memory slams into me like a second hit.
"The guy I ripped apart back there," I say slowly. "He was in the container."
Good riddance.
Asher frowns. "But now he was after her."
Something changed.
"We'll get all the answers," I say, voice low and full of promise. "One way or another."
Asher's eyes narrow, that concerned older-brother thing written all over his face. "If she doesn't go into hypothermia. She's shaking from the cold. We need to get her out of those wet clothes."
"I can help," I offer with a grin, already stepping in.
