“I’m sorry,” he said in a pained whisper. “I should have seen it.”
Stella stood and walked to the window. It was the closest she could get to him. She put both hands against the clear divider and looked at him. His gaze didn’t shy away from her this time and she felt the familiar pull inside her that had always drawn her to him.
“You couldn’t have stopped it,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t do that. Don’t blame yourself. Do you hear me?” She’d been so preoccupied with the idea of seeing Rowan and talking to him, that she hadn’t thought about what he must be feeling. She hated that he blamed himself, but she wasn’t surprised—not really. He’d always taken on more than was asked of him, especially when it came to the losses. His eyes—those soulful brown eyes she’d spent so much time gazing at—were so full of guilt and regret that she almost didn’t recognize them. He finally let out a ragged sigh.
“Tell me,” he said. “I want to know everything they did to you.”
She gave him a sad smile and shook her head. “No,” she said. “You don’t.”
He sat up straighter in the chair and now she saw determination in his eyes. “I need to know,” he said. “Please.”
Stella’s mind ran through a barrage of memories from her time as Ephraim’s captive, most of which she’d purposely blocked in an effort to keep her sanity. She wasn’t even certain she’d be able to speak them aloud. She felt her throat grow tight and she shook her head.
“I can’t,” she said in a broken whisper. “I’m sorry.”
Rowan stood and walked closer to the layer of clear plexiglass separating them. He looked at her for a long moment, his perceptive eyes noting every tiny change her months away had wrought. She remained still, resisting the urge to vanish—to hide from his scrutiny. She felt as if—by simply looking in her eyes—he would see every horrible deed she’d been forced to commit. Though she realized how ridiculous that sounded, she also knew that Rowan understood her better than anyone. At least, he had before. Now, she didn’t feel as though anyone really knew her. She’d lost so much of who she’d been during those months with Hastings. She hated the person she’d become. Deep down, she knew that if Rowan ever really got to know that person, he’d hate her too. She imagined the disgust and disappointment in his eyes and she knew she could never tell him.
“I missed you,” she heard herself saying. She hadn’t planned to say it. The words just tumbled from her mouth as though they’d been waiting there for weeks. “I missed you so much, Rowan.” She whispered the words, but it didn’t matter. He heard them. Stella felt a tear roll down her cheek, followed by another.
“You kept me alive,” she said. “The whole time I was gone, the one thing that kept me going was you. I needed you to know that.” Her vision had gone blurry, and she tried to blink away the tears so she could see him more clearly. As she watched him, he raised a hand to the glass as if to touch it, but he stopped just shy of the window’s surface. His hand clenched into a fist and he lowered it back to his side. She heard him clear his throat as he turned away from her.
“I gotta go,” he muttered, walking quickly to the door. He didn’t look back.
Stella stayed frozen at the window for several minutes before she finally walked over to the bunk. She lay on her side, facing the wall and wrapped the thin blanket around her like a cocoon. She curled in on herself, wrapping her arms tightly around her folded legs. The shaking started, and she found that she couldn’t stop the tremors. She tried to hold on, but it wasn’t long before the tears she’d been holding at bay spilled out. She cried silently, her shoulders shaking as the tidal wave of emotion finally overwhelmed her.
Rowan pushed through the outer door without stopping, startling the guard standing beside it. He walked without thinking about where he was going. He just needed to get away. From what, he didn’t know, but the urge was overwhelming. He kept picturing her alone in that tiny cell, her red hair vivid against the white concrete walls. He could feel his heart thudding in his chest as he walked but he could do nothing to calm it. There was a buzzing in his ears that seemed to grow louder with each step.
Rowan arrived at his quarters without any memory of the walk there. Had he passed anyone along the way? He wasn’t sure. He just needed to get inside, to be alone. He let himself in and closed the door behind him. He could feel his breath coming in short, rapid bursts and he tried to get control of it while his heart continued to beat out a staccato rhythm. He leaned his back against the door and bent low, putting his head nearly to his knees. A vise-like grip closed around his chest and he clenched his eyes tightly shut, trying to block out everything but his own breathing. He needed to get control of himself before he hyperventilated. He focused on his breathing, trying to slow it. After several minutes, he calmed somewhat. When he raised his head, he realized that his entire body was shaking uncontrollably. His knees gave out and he slid down to sit on the floor, burying his face in his hands as he wept.
Chapter Eight
Sawyer picked the lock to Rowan’s quarters easily. She’d been picking the locks in this place since she was 9 years old and it wasn’t even a challenge anymore. Corbin had told her about the conversation he’d had with Rowan that morning. When he hadn’t shown up to the briefing, Corbin had gotten worried, so he’d spoken to Sawyer. It took a lot for Corbin to admit to being worried, so she’d taken him seriously and gone to check on her brother. Only he hadn’t been in his office when she’d gotten there. That was strange enough, considering his recent habits, but she told herself he was probably just at home. She’d gone there, but he hadn’t answered her knock. That was when she’d resorted to picking the lock.
As the door swung open, Sawyer began calling his name. She felt her own worry ratchet up a notch as she took in the darkened rooms. Flipping on the light, her eyes caught on something glittering on the other side of the living room. As she walked closer, she realized it was broken glass. There was a small dent in the wall and she prodded it with her finger. She found the remnants of a broken photo frame lying face-down nearby. She knew what the frame held before turning it over—she had the same photo in her own quarters, after all. She picked it up and turned it over, looking at the four happy strangers she’d once known so well. She removed the picture from its ruined frame and laid it carefully on the little table beside the couch. She stood and checked the other rooms, though she knew she wouldn’t find him there. After confirming she was right, Sawyer found the broom and swept up the broken glass, then let herself out. She thought she had a good idea of where Rowan might be.
Sawyer found Rowan sitting with his back against the olive tree. Even from across the room, she could see that his hair was wild and his clothes were in disarray. She walked toward him and noticed the mostly empty bottle of bourbon that lay beside him. He was clearly drunk. When she was only a few feet away, she sighed loudly. When he noticed her, he looked up at her with a big smile and waved sloppily.
“Hey!” he shouted cheerfully. “Sawyer!”
Sawyer’s heart clenched at seeing him this way. He was always so in control of himself. Tonight though, there was a wildness within him that she’d forgotten about. He’d been this way for months after they’d lost Stella. Unreachable, hard, a stranger in her brother’s body. She couldn’t bear to see him go back to that man. Her memories of that time were hazy. She’d been so lost in her own grief that she hadn’t been there for him the way she knew she should have. Stella had been like a sister to her, but she’d been something else entirely to Rowan. The two of them had been in love. At the time, the selfishness of her own pain hadn’t allowed her to see the depth of his. Time and more loss had granted her a perspective now that she hadn’t had before. Her heart ached for Rowan and she felt a wave of regret for the way she’d handled Stella’s loss.
She closed the remaining distance quickly, moved the bottle out of his reach and sat down next to him. His glasses were missing, and she wondered if he knew where he’d left them. His head r
ested against the trunk of the tree and he let it roll in her direction. She could see the pain in his brown eyes even as he tried to smile at her.
“Hey,” she said softly. “You’re a mess.” She reached out with one hand to smooth his hair down.
He shrugged. “Just drunk,” he said with a chuckle.
Sawyer sighed again. “What are you doing, Ro?”
Rowan tossed his hands up and let them fall into his lap. “Seemed like a good idea.” He took a deep breath and his face lost the cheerful drunk expression. His eyes went dark just before he let them fall closed. He sighed and raked his hand through his hair, undoing Sawyer’s attempts at tidying him. “I went to see her today,” he said, not meeting her gaze.
Her heart was breaking for him. She couldn’t imagine what he was going through right now. “She’s alive,” she said gently, hoping to reach him. “Just focus on that. She’s back home where she belongs. We can figure out the rest of it.”
Rowan’s laugh this time was harsh and lacked any humor. He shook his head. “Right. You saw her, right? That’s not Stella. She’s different. Whatever they did to her—” He trailed off and seemed to study his hands for several moments. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, and Sawyer felt a stab of pain at his words. “I couldn’t save her before. What makes you think I can fix this now?” His fists clenched, and she could see how much this was hurting him.
She reached out and took his hand in both of hers. “Look at me,” she said. When he turned his eyes to hers, she said, “You can’t save everyone. What happened to Stella was not your fault.”
He jerked his hand away from her roughly and staggered to his feet. His eyes, usually so full of humor were hard when they looked at her. “Everyone?” he asked harshly. “Sawyer, she was everyone to me!” The words felt like physical blows and she tried not to flinch from the thunderous roar echoing through the room. He turned away from her and walked several steps before spinning around to face her again. “She was everything and I couldn’t save her! I didn’t see any of it coming. I lost her.” Sawyer was shaking her head, but Rowan didn’t give her a chance to speak. “Don’t you get it?” he was still shouting. “All of this is my fault! If I’d seen it sooner, everything would be different! She wouldn’t have been through whatever she’s been through all this time. God, I can’t believe…” He trailed off as though the thought was unbearable.
Sawyer climbed to her feet and closed the distance between them. Seeing him this way hurt her more than she thought possible. “Rowan, don’t,” she said. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself. The past is the past and we can’t change it. But we can fix things now. Whatever happened to her, she’s alive. That’s the most important thing. Focus on that. Everything else, we can fix.”
Rowan seemed to visibly deflate. His shoulders slumped, and the anger seemed to drain from him. Now he just looked tired and lonely. Sawyer put a hand on his shoulder and he finally looked up to meet her gaze.
“What if we can’t?” he asked, finally voicing his fear. He closed his eyes tightly, but not before she saw the sheen of tears there. “I won’t survive losing her again.”
His words were whispered but Sawyer heard them clearly. She didn’t know what to say to help him, so she did the only thing she could. She pulled him to her in a hug, comforting him the same way he’d done for her so many times over the years.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered to him. She wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but it was what she needed to believe, and it was what he needed to hear.
Chapter Nine
Gwynn watched Conrad back slowly from the darkened bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack so James wouldn’t be left entirely in the dark. The boy wouldn’t admit it, but he was still a little afraid of sleeping in complete darkness. She smiled at Conrad as he walked down the hallway toward her. He looked tired, but everyone was tired lately. Still, she thought he was just as handsome as he’d been the day she met him. She’d moved here when Stella had been barely more than an infant. Stella’s father hadn’t been eager to play that role and had left her well before Stella’s birth. Gwynn had shed a few tears, but then she’d gotten on with the business of being a mother. She’d always been a practical sort of person, never letting emotion get in the way of what needed to be done.
Looking back now, she understood with a clarity she hadn’t possessed at 22 that she’d never really loved him. She’d been young, naïve and in love with the idea of a family. She’d tried to make things work with him, but she’d been the only one trying. After he left, she decided she wanted a fresh start for her and her daughter. She packed up their meager belongings and took a three-hour bus trip south. When they arrived, they were greeted by Kat Stokely, the compound’s leader at the time.
She gave Gwynn an assessing look and said, “You’re too skinny.” Then she turned to look at the baby perched on Gwynn’s hip. “That baby needs food. The cafeteria’s on Level 3. Eat. Then we’ll see to your room.”
Then Kat had walked away, leaving Gwynn wondering what to do next. She eventually settled into her new life and made a home for herself and Stella. She worked as an active agent for a few years until the opportunity came for her to take on the role of training coordinator. Stella was five by then and had begun to come into her ability. She needed more supervision than a single mother who was an active agent could give. Gwynn had also had her own brushes with death and decided she should stop putting herself in harm’s way before she made Stella an orphan. The years passed, and she found that this new place had become her home and this group of people her family.
Gwynn’s hand came up to absently stroke the scar on her neck as her mind wandered. Thinking of the past brought back memories of the night she’d gotten the scar. It had been a lapse in judgment, a miscalculation that almost cost her life. Shaking her head, she pushed aside those thoughts as Conrad sat beside her on the couch.
“Is he out?” she asked him in a low voice.
He nodded with a chuckle. “He made me read two stories.”
Gwynn’s smile widened, and she leaned over to plant a kiss on his cheek. “You’re such a softie,” she said.
He turned to face her and gave her a quick kiss on the lips. “Don’t tell anyone,” he said. “I have a reputation.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” she said with a wink.
He settled back into the couch with a sigh. Gwynn studied the fine lines etched into the corners of his eyes and the strands of silver sprinkled throughout his nearly black hair. After a moment, he seemed to notice that she’d been looking at him and he turned to face her, his brow furrowed.
“What,” he said. “Do I have something on my face?”
Gwynn shook her head. “I was just thinking,” she said. “I think you’re aging better than I am.”
Conrad barked a laugh and shook his head. “You’re so full of it,” he said. His gaze turned suspicious. “Do you need me to move some furniture or something? Hang a heavy picture?” He looked around the living room as though searching for something. “You’re obviously trying to butter me up here.”
Gwynn just shook her head and snuggled into his side. She lifted his arm and put it around her shoulders. “I’m serious,” she said. “You keep getting more handsome and I just get more wrinkles. It’s not fair.”
Conrad pulled her tighter against his side. “You,” he said, kissing the top of her head, “are still the most beautiful girl in any room.” She shook her head, but he didn’t give her a chance to speak. “I remember the first time I saw you. You were all fire and light and I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”
Gwynn felt her face burn in embarrassment even though only the two of them were there to hear his words. She turned her face into his chest, hiding.
“It took me a solid month to work up the nerve to even talk to you,” he said. “You were so fierce. You scared me.”
Gwynn leaned back so she could look at his face. “I did not! I scared you?”
/> Conrad smiled as he looked at her. “Hell yes,” he said. “You’ve always been so focused and driven and I was an idiot back then. I thought for sure you’d kick my ass just for talking to you.”
She looked at him under her raised brows. “Shows how much you know.”
He chuckled and pulled her back against his side. “Once I unleashed my charm, you didn’t stand a chance.” She poked him in the ribs. Hard.
“Ow!” he laughed and squirmed away from her hand as she tried to poke him a second time. That’s when they heard the knock at the door. They both froze. It wasn’t late, but visitors at night were rarely a good thing. The knock came again. Conrad sighed and stood, running his fingers through his hair to straighten it before he walked over to open the door.
Pax was standing there, a sheepish expression on his face. He glanced from Conrad to Gwynn who had come to stand beside him. “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said. “She’s saying she wants to talk to you.”
Gwynn’s eyes widened, and she felt her heart falter. “Stella?” she said in a low voice.
Pax met her gaze and she could see that he was uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, but she asked for Conrad. She was pretty insistent.” Gwynn waved away his concern and tried to smile.
“It’s okay,” she said.
Conrad looked from Gwynn to Pax. “Give me a minute?”
Pax nodded and stepped back from the door as Conrad quietly closed it. When he turned to look at Gwynn, she wore a look of excitement, but he could see the pain in her eyes.
“Hey,” he said softly, pulling her into his arms. “She just needs more time. She’ll talk to you. Maybe this is a good sign.”
Gwynn nodded. “I know,” she said. “It’s okay. Maybe she’s finally coming around.” She kept her eyes down when she said, “Conrad, we haven’t really talked about everything that happened. I’m sorry—”
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