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Prologue
ZOEY
Ipull my knees tighter to my chest and press my face into them to muffle my sobs, not wanting to wake anyone. The cold, tiled bathroom floor chills the soles of my feet, and the nightdress Layla handed down to me, covered in holes, barely reaches my knees. The tile at my back has me shivering as I close my eyes against the sting of tears, my body shaking with the force of my pain.
Since Layla is heavily knocked out on her pain meds, and it’s the only time I can get away from her and the other girls, I snuck out of our shared room. The eight other girls are sleeping in their cots, like I should be, but I can’t. Instead, I’m huddled in the shared bathroom in the foster home we were dumped in when Layla was released from the hospital.
She almost died.
I almost lost her too…
Gage.
Mom.
I did lose them. I won’t ever tell Layla that I remember it all—the sounds of the gunshots, the feel of their blood on my hands, and the echoes of my own screams in my ears. I lost everyone I love apart from Layla. The only reason she is still here is because of the blue-eyed angel who stopped to save us.
Even thinking of him now has me crying harder, wishing he were here to protect us and save us from this life.
It’s stupid to cry. I’m alive, and so is Layla. We are safe, even if this place gives me the creeps, but I miss them. I miss them so badly. I wish I hadn’t gotten angry with Gage and yelled. I wish I could chase him around or sneak into his room to read with him at night.
Mom wasn’t the best mother, but I loved her, and on those rare, good days, she would bake for us. I miss the smell of her cookies and the sound of her laugh when I would steal one. Now, there is just a black hole where they were, and it hurts so much.
I miss home. I don’t like it here.
I just want to go home.
Sometimes at night, I swear I hear screams, and none of them are mine.
I haven’t told Layla this. She would run away with me and protect me at any cost, but she needs to heal so I won’t lose her too. Instead, I try to ignore it and everything and everyone.
I hear footsteps, and I curl around myself—a habit I know Layla hates. It always made her eyes flash with anger before she stepped in front of me and took the blow. Maybe if I’m small enough, they will go away and leave me alone, but I still hear them next to me.
I feel their heat as they slide down the wall beside me. I don’t look. I can’t. I’m worried I will be punished for crying or being out of bed at this hour, but then a soft, slightly bigger than my own hand covers mine on my shaking knee.
Something about it makes me cry harder.
No words are spoken, and when the sun rises, he walks me back to my bed and tucks me in. At the door to my room, he looks back at me once. He’s just a shadow in the dark, a boy, a face I can’t make out, but it sticks with me.
That was the first night my protector came to me, promising he would never leave my side.
He came every night after that to hold me as I cried.
Today was a bad day. The other girls were picking on me again, and I feel so alone. Layla is still on her pain meds, and every night, like a ritual, I find myself crying in the bathroom for everything I lost. This time, however, when the arm slides around me, I lift my head and see him for the first time.
He has startling, bright gray eyes the color of the storms we used to get back home, serious twisted lips, and a slightly rounded face with curly black hair flopping over his forehead. He’s older than me, a teenager, and judging by the pained look in his eyes, he’s hurting just as badly as I am. That’s when I notice the blood staining his shirt.
“Are you okay?” I whisper, voice cracking.
He blinks, and a slow smile curls his lips. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that, little doe?”
“Doe?” I repeat in confusion.
“You have big green eyes, and you remind me of a doe I saw once,” he explains and starts to pull away, but I move closer, burying my head in his chest.
“My name is Zoey,” I tell him when the tears stop. His hand is curled into my hair, holding me close. He doesn’t say anything, so I lift my head. “This is where you tell me your name.” I sniffle and wipe my face.
He searches my eyes as if he’s looking for something. “Gray. My name is Gray.” He shoots me the most blinding smile I’ve ever seen. “So, Zoey, want to hear a joke?”
