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Nothing there.
No one there.
I am alone.
The darkness haunts me.
CHAPTERTWENTY-EIGHT
MAE
I’m awakened by a commotion outside the door. When I open my eyes, I realize I’ve been asleep on the concrete floor, though I don’t remember moving from the chair.
My head throbs. What is happening?
Danny.
Dad.
The memories come back to me like brutal punches to the gut. I’m so tired. I’m not sure how I’ll stay awake through whatever comes next.
When the door swings open, Danny stands in front of me, a confirmation that he is real. That everything he told me actually happened. That it wasn’t just a terrible dream. A terrible reality is more like it. “We’re here.”
“Here?” I croak, my throat dry.
“The island. Come on. We don’t have much time. There’s a storm headed this way. I need to get you on your new boat and on the way out of here before it strikes.” He walks toward me, holding out a hand.
“What? No, I told you, I’m not going.”
“Yes, andItoldyouit’s not a discussion. Youaregoing, and that’s final.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Then you may as well let them take me. Because if you let me go, I’m going home. First chance I get, I will find a way home. I’m not running, Danny. I won’t.”
“It’s not smart for you to tell me that,” he says.
I cock my head to the side, studying him. Despite the terrible things he’s said to me, despite how much easier it may be to lie and figure out a new plan when he leaves me stranded in a new country completely alone, I can’t. I don’t see anything hard behind his exterior. Something about him softens when he meets my eyes. “I don’t think you’ll hurt me. Believe it or not, I remember who you used to be.”
“That little boy you remember is long gone.”
I cross my arms. “That little boy saved my life. Then and now.”
He huffs. “Exactly. I saved your life, and this is how you thank me? By makingmylife more difficult? By putting yourself in more danger?”
“I didn’t ask you to save my life. Not then and not now. I’m grateful you did, but I don’t owe you. I owe the women you’re taking. The girls like me. The boys like you. I owe it to my husband to go home to him. To make things I might’ve really messed up right again. I owe it to Mom to tell her the truth about Dad. About you. I owe it to my best friend to—”
“Alright,” he bellows, looking angrier with himself than with me. He curses under his breath, looking away. “I get it. Fine. I’ll let the crew take you home. Is that what you really want? Go home, Mae. Walk right back into his trap. But you won’t stop what I’m doing. This ring is like a roach. You can cut off its head, but it’ll still keep going. Bring me down, bring us all down, but a new version of this will just pop up. You can’t escape it.”
I study him. Is that really what he believes? He’s put up a wall between us again, something not quite hard but not so soft anymore. He’s angry. Bitter. But not at me. Somehow, I know this. Just like I know this is the beginning of our goodbye. As if to prove it, he takes half a step back from me, refusing to look my way. “Is that what they told you? That this can’t be stopped? That no one can stop what’s happening? Is that why you’re still here?”
“I’m here because they were right.”
“Maybe, but then again, maybe they just need people to believe that so they don’t even try.” I stand up, drawing his attention to me and moving forward so we’re nose to nose, practically the same height. “I’m going home to make things right. Starting with Dad. I’m not going to let him get away with this.”
He looks away again, shaking his head. A muscle in his jaw tightens. “It’s your funeral. If that’s what you want, you can go. I won’t stop you. But, for the record, I think it’s a terrible decision.”
