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My head snaps in the direction of the sound, only to be met with nothing but the rain and the forest beyond.

“No!” I scream, my voice stern and without reason. “I will not.” I shake my head in an attempt to clear the chaos inside of it. To my astonishment, the voices are silenced.

Lydia is struggling against me, staring in confusion as she spots the weakness within me. When she glares up at the mask, I already know what her next move will be. She’s going to try to run, to catch me off guard.

I stare ahead at Callum, watching as his grimace turns lethal. And although he can’t see it, I smile back at him. He isn’t going to do a damn thing to help his girlfriend, because he can’t.

I must act quickly now, for I fear I am running out of time. I reluctantly drop Lydia’s wrists, dragging the gun away. I press the heel of my palms into the eye sockets of my mask, my ears ringing as everything around me threatens to disappear.

I’m losing myself.

When I open my eyes, everything is silent, and I’m standing in the darkness that I know all too well as my own mind. I see the light flickering beneath the door that I’ve become all too familiar with in the last few weeks. There is a truth standing on the other side of that door.

Flashes of a face appear within it, and I squeeze my eyes shut in an attempt to place recognition among the shadows. Banging against the door, I plead for whoever is behind it to let me in.

“This is not a truth you wish to reveal,” the voice from beyond the door whispers to me.

That voice is so familiar, so close. I grab the handle, expecting to find it locked like every time before. Except, this time it’s not. I frantically turn it, throwing the door open as I lock eyes with the voice beyond it.

I’m stunned by the reflection of myself, only now able to place a name to the man who’s been begging me to listen all this time. I can’t breathe, move, or formulate a single coherent thought. Suddenly, all the fractured time and lost memories make sense. Suddenly, I can see it all so clearly.

It can’t be. It isn’t true. I wouldn’t.

The version of me standing there tilts his head to the side, a menacing smile playing across his lips as his eyes narrow. I read his expression quickly, reaching out to grab him just as the door slams shut. An imaginary wind whips me in the face, and as quickly as the truth found me, it vanishes. I’m sucked backward from the door and from the depths of my mind. Once I return to my place in the pouring rain beside Lydia and Callum, I am restored.

Who am I? I am no longer him.

I am only what the frequency has made me, and I have a job to finish.

38

Callum

Lydia Aston, please come back to me.

The psycho in a mask is losing his mind as he lets Lydia go, pressing his palms into his eyes. Hunched over, he screams out in agony while fighting a demon no one else can see but him. I stare, stunned, unable to move as my body screams at me to get to Lydia. My eyes flick over to her, watching her expression morph into confusion as our captor continues to scream.

My eyes are brought back to our captor’s form when he suddenly stops moving. He stands tall, slowly, and then all at once. His stillness is uncanny as he tilts his head to the side. I hear his dark chuckle over the heavy rainfall, the sound of it letting me know that he’s been released from whatever horrors gripped him moments before.

He surges forward, snatching Lydia in the same motion as he presses the barrel of the gun to her temple once more. Her piercing scream rips the air in two, sending a dagger straight through me. I fight to move, to scream, to do anything. It’s useless. This fucking psycho has rendered me entirely fucking useless. I can’t do a single thing to help her.

A sadistic growl escapes him as he jams the gun against her temple. With his opposite hand, he grabs a handful of her hair and yanks her head back against his shoulder.

My gaze flicks to his finger resting on the trigger, my eyes unblinking as I wait for the moment he’ll take everything from me. I hold my breath, my body shaking as I try to fight the compulsion. And just when I think he’ll do it, just when I think this is it, he drops the gun.

It falls to the ground in slow motion, his movements strained as he reaches for it. A raw scream tears out of him while he grapples with something unseen. Lydia’s eyes flick to the gun on the ground near her feet, and then back to him as he thrashes with an invisible force. Her gaze finds mine through the curtain of rain, and I understand her intent before she moves. Before I can form the words, she reaches for the weapon.

No, Lydia.

I want to tell her not to do it, to beg her to stop. If she tries anything, he could end her fucking life in seconds. I force my muscles to move again, my body refusing the plea. No matter how hard I try, nothing happens. I’m trapped behind my own skin, condemned to watch.

This is hell.

I either stand here while he kills her or watch while she’s forced to kill him. I have a better idea, though. One that doesn’t result in the death of a soul as beautiful as Lydia Aston. She doesn’t deserve that fate, but me? I deserve worse.

The weapon trembles in her grasp, her sobs growing louder as she comes to terms with her decision. She lifts the weapon toward our captor, bracing it with both hands as her arms extend out. He stumbles back a few hurried steps, his palms raised in mock surrender.

“Callum,” our captor calls out. “I want you to take my gun from Lydia, now.”