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Swallowing back bile, I cry angrily for how stupid I’ve been. I’ve been played.
Humiliation burns through my anger, and I fight the urge to never leave this room and face him. Remembering how much I begged him in the car is plain embarrassing. I wonder if there’s such a thing as a bond formed by traumatic experiences.
If so, it has a lot to answer for.
I need to speak to Dave.
I was lied to by omission and flat-out lied to. And I know Max will challenge me on that, arguing that telling me when we had actually met might have ruined all hope for my true memories, but what if it didn’t? What if he had told me at the cabin and we’d worked through them together, in plain sight?
I don’t know the answers. Maybe no one can answer those questions. But Dave was right: Lionheart was the catalyst for my brain’s sickness. Even in my wildest dreams, I couldn’t have predicted what stood between us.
The cameras tell me Max is in the kitchen, sitting on the floor next to Logan who’s lying on his back as Max absently rubs his tummy. It makes me wonder how many times he’s sought comfort from his dog.
Steeling myself, knowing I need to face this, to tell him everything I know, I unlock the door.
Via the camera feed, I can see his head twist in my direction, his body following.
I fold all the grief of my abduction into myself. I will store it deep inside where I cannot feel it, until I need to examine it again, to pick it apart, to retell it. Right now, what happened to me takes second place.
My legs weigh a thousand pounds as I exit the safe room and walk towards the kitchen where an apologetic-looking man waits for me. He looks more than that though; he looks hopelessly sad, desperate. Anguished and distraught.
Max sinks to his knees, throwing his arms around my legs. “I’mso sorry. Please, Ava, you have to believe I never wanted it to happen like this.”
Putting my pain and questions aside, I say, “You’re looking for Sabine.”
“Yes.” The word is croaked, pained. The following words come out full of remorse. “Right now, I’m more concerned about you.”
My feelings for him war with each other, but every minute of delay is another moment of trauma for Sabine. My heart will heal. My humiliation will abate. What’s important is finding his sister. So I soak up his pain, knowing my freedom comes at a heavy price.
“Get up.”
Not letting go, he stands, his body crushing mine.
I’ve loved him twice and lost him twice. And even though the thought cripples me, even though I hate him right now, I can’t help begrudgingly admire him. Searching for his sister through seven circles of hell, who rescued me from those hell-holes, he got none of the answers he needed. He’s been patient, waiting for my brain to crack open. The delay must’ve driven him insane.
“I feel wretched that I couldn’t remember.” I force myself to pull away from him, this super-magnet that draws me to him so effortlessly. Will I always feel like this? Is this a side effect of the trauma bond? “But I can now. I remember things which might help.”
His eyes widen. “You do?”
“Yes.”
I don’t want to waste any time. Sabine’s been gone for months. My eight-day ordeal is nothing compared to hers.
“I need to call Paula.”
It hurts to look at him for many reasons, but I hate to see him so desperately hopeful.
“How . . . What can I . . . Are you okay?”
“I’m numb, Max.” All my dreams have scattered on the wind.
He swallows. “I’m so sorry you found out like this. Let me help you.”
“I need to make a call,” I dismiss, no longer trusting anything he tells me. “Be right back.”
Running upstairs, I grab my phone from the bedroom and call Paula. She answers after three rings, my heart in my throat. And then I tell her about a woman I remember hearing about. A grey-eyed woman, and where she might be.
It’s a whirlwind after that.Phone calls are made and meetings are scheduled. Max organises the private jet to remain on standby.
