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His body tightens, his eyes shimmer under the dim light. Running his hand down my side, he pulls me closer. His heart beats against mine. I sense him inside me, in every crevice of my mind, as I come to terms with what I am. He stares at me with those golden dark eyes.

Dangerous and deadly. Devastatingly beautiful.

“I’m losing myself,” I tell him. I’m losing him.

“I’m still here with you. Remember who you used to be, Layla. Hold on to that.” He interlaces his hand with mine.

I sob into his shoulder and let myself release…I finally find the courage to forgive myself, to forgive him for dying the way he did.

I imagine those long months I spent in the bunker. I knew where it was, Nick showed it to me once. He was a survivalist through and through. There was enough food to last me months. Something drew me there…

I never left the bunker for the months I was there. Not really…only a few feet to wash up in the lake and get some fresh air when my body needed it. I followed the little white ribbons Nick marked in the woods.

All the memories Regina helped me unlock during therapy weren’t from my time in the bunker. Instead, they were from earlier in my life but blended with something I can’t quite identify. Nick was with me in all the ways that mattered, yet I was always alone. Over the few months I was there, I descended into a state of madness, consumed by my sorrow and grief. Until my mind broke and I couldn’t remember why I was there. Staying in darkness for days on end will do things to you. It breaks your soul.

Whatever happened in that shed, shattered me.

Once my tears dry up, I lift my head, running my hand up his shirt, sliding my hand up his abs and chest. I keep my grip on him, like it might be my last. I feel him slipping away from me. Like my mind is caught in a dream, and he is disappearing.

“Don’t leave me again,” I beg, staring at him. “Please don’t leave.”

His eyes transform into pools of darkness. His face melts, and his skin turns to ash. My head is a maelstrom of visions and deep emotions.

Laughter surrounds me, punctuated by cries and screams. My mind races, my body tenses, and my soul screams again in agony. I’m falling….down, down, down. When I come to my senses, Nick is gone, and the room is still. My vision clears, and every memory returns, and I lie curled up in the fetal position like I did all those months I was alone.

I sit up and adjust myself with more clarity than I’ve had in months. Darkness slithers up my insides as my full identity comes swarming back.

Chapter 35

The house is dark as I make my way toward the study. The grandfather clock strikes two, and the only other sound is the incessant dripping noise from the bathroom. My parents came home an hour ago. They argued for a few minutes before Jake scoffed off to bed, and silence settled in the house.

She’s in there…sitting in the dark, lost in a trance. I’ve been watching her for nearly ten minutes, and she’s so lost in her thoughts she doesn’t realize I’m here. A long menthol cigarette fitted between her fingers. Pretty little ringlets form on her face, with her hair tied up. An older version of me, like looking in a mirror.

I barely recognize that I’m holding something metal in my hand. A little red dot rests on her head. The cold gun, Nick’s gun, is in my hands, aimed directly at her temple. Nick gave me this weapon before he left for his last mission, and more importantly, he showed me how to use it. I hid it on our property. We practiced for hours, and by the end, I was nearly as skilled as he was.

That tiny red dot became ingrained in my mind. I saw it so often it was permanently seared onto my vision. Every thought of Nick seems to conjure it, like a direct signal to my brain. It’s no wonder I hallucinated it so frequently.

The pieces have fallen into place. A million images swirling in my head, and now I’m down to the final dozen. I can see the complete picture clearly, but the fine details are still fuzzy. The most important detail…

I’m certain I killed at least three people: Natalie, Mrs. Parkinson, and Gabe. What I don’t understand yet is what triggered me to do it. How I went from a carefree girl in love to a vicious killer. My compulsion was strong enough that I put myself in a dark hole so I wouldn’t do it again.

Grief. Revenge. Or something else entirely? What would make four generations of a family resort to murder?

Beth’s slender frame shifts as a floorboard creaks beneath me. The red dot moves into her eye. She stares right at me in the dark. “Layla,” she breathes out as a cold draft blows through the house.

“Layla’s gone…” I say carefully. “She left months ago.” It’s true, I never really came back. Not the same, anyway.

Her voice radiates from the dark. “Where did you go, Layla?”

The wind shifts, revealing the full moon, which glimmers off the snow and illuminates the room. “I needed some clarity.”

Beth glances up at me and blows out smoke as it spirals out of her mouth. Then she barks out a laugh. “So, you left for three months because you needed clarity?”

I tilt my head, keeping the gun trained on her face. My trauma staring back at me. “You knew?” I hiss.

A beat of silence passes, the smoke curling in her fingers. “You’re my daughter. Of course I knew. I didn’t know where you went, but I knew you left on your own. I saw you spiraling.”

My trigger finger twitches. “You let me believe I was abducted?”