"What happened to you? After Gabriel threw you away?"
"I found someone who helped me. Someone who gave me purpose. Someone who taught me that I could be more than what he made me."
"Nathan?"
"Yes."
"What does he want with me?"
"He wants to help you. The way he helped me."
"And what does he get in return?"
"Your loyalty. Your skills. Your willingness to fight for something bigger than yourself."
"That sounds like another cage."
"Maybe. But at least this cage has a door. At least this cage lets you see the sun."
She reached out and touched my face, and her fingers were warm, and I didn't flinch.
"Think about it. You don't have to decide now. You don't have to decide ever. Just... rest. Eat. Sleep. Let someone take care of you for once."
"I don't know how to let anyone take care of me."
"I know."
She smiled, and it was almost sad.
8
The Murder She Forgot
The room was small and white and empty.
I stood in the doorway, my hand still on the brass handle, my eyes adjusting to the fluorescent light that buzzed overhead. The woman on the other side—the one who'd been smiling—was gone. Or maybe she'd never been there. Maybe I'd imagined her, the way I'd imagined the blonde in the diner, the way I'd imagined the shadow following me through the streets.
Rue.
Where was Rue?
I turned, and the hallway was empty. The darkness had swallowed her, or she'd never been there at all, or I'd dreamed the whole thing—the bar, the conversation, the walk through the abandoned building.
The chair.
The bolts.
The scratches in the metal.
Had any of it been real?
I couldn't remember.
I couldn't remember anything.
The memory started later.
Or maybe it started now. Or maybe time had stopped working the way it was supposed to, and I was living in fragments, moments that didn't connect, a story with missing pages.
