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Ryker touches my cheek, tears of his own shining in his eyes.

“It’s …” I pull in sharp breaths. “It’s you.”

He gently presses his forehead to mine. “Yes, it’s me. It’s always been me.”

Chapter 35

Silence – Twelve years ago

My hand trembles as blood flows from my palm and through my fingers. It drips onto the carpet before I can stop it, but there’s enough of my blood spattered about this house already. What’s a few more drops?

My gaze moves to my doorknob—to the nail protruding from the metal. It looks like it’s been soldered on, and in the dark, I didn’t see it. It’s a miracle it didn’t go right through my hand.

“The enemy is everywhere, Silence.” I tense at the sound of my father’s voice, not turning to face him for fear he’ll want to add another lesson onto this one. “Clean yourself up.”

Avoiding touching the nail again, I twist the doorknob and push my door open. Crouching low, I tentatively run my hand across the carpet, and beyond the perimeter of the door are three more nails, sharp end up. I wrench them from the floorboards with my good hand, enter my room, and shut the door.

For the next thirty minutes, I inspect my room. The window, my bed, my closet, all my drawers, but those nails seem to be the only lesson I’ll be subjected to. For tonight, at least.

After dragging my first aid kit from under the bed, I clean the wound. I’d worry about an infection, but my dad isn’t out to kill me, only teach me. He can’t build an army if his first and only recruit is dead.

A squeak of wood against wood lifts my heart, and I look over at the window as it’s pushed open. I stand quickly, the tightness in my chest loosening as I spot the familiar mask. The weathered white skull over black cotton would look frightening to most in the dim light of my bedroom—especially when the person wearing it is climbing through my window. But I’ve been waiting for this night for weeks.

His boots thud on the floor, his all-black outfit the only way he’ll have made it this close without my dad spotting him.

I rush over and wrap my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. He smells woodsy, and masculine, and safe. He hugs me, cradling the back of my head, and the sudden security has tears springing to my eyes.

“Where have you been?” I whisper. “It’s been two weeks.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Rose.” He holds me tighter, and I smile at my nickname. The nights he could stay longer, I’d sing “La Vie En Rose” to him. Terribly, but still. “I tried to get here, I really did.” I pull back from the hug, and his attention lands on the first aid kit. Even with the mask, I sense his anger. “What did he do this time?”

I shake my head. “Nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” I whisper. “I haven’t seen you in too long. I don’t want to waste our time on him.”

He growls but doesn’t argue. Instead, he leads me to the bed. We both sit, and he takes off his gloves to patch up my palm.

I watch him with a small smile. “How’s school?”

“Same old.”

“You passed your maths class though, right?” He says nothing. “We studied for weeks!”

“I got distracted,” he grumbles. “I can redo it.”

“That isn’t the point, Odin.”

He huffs. “Don’t call me that.”

“Then tell me your name.” He meets my eye for a second before refocusing on my hand. “Besides, Odin was known as the masked one. It’s a cool nickname.”

“How’s school for you?”

I shrug. “Fine. Dad’s still insisting I quit.”

Odin’s gaze snaps to mine. “School’s important.”