Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86177 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
My stomach churned with the nauseating realization that her question was a thinly veiled demand for affirmation.
Yes, I told them about you. What do you take me for? But I couldn’t say that. Not even to bring her peace. I’d almost slipped when I’d told Jordyn about the girl in the cage.
It wasn’t the world I saved, but another little girl in a cage. She… ahem… reminded me of you.
Truth? The kid reminded me of Devi.
In a twisted tangle of events, I’d had the same dream since I was a kid.
First, I cowered in that cage.
After I met Willow as a teen, the nightmares shifted—she sat trapped inside all alone.
Later, it was Devi. After she died, my mind twisted itself into believing it had always been a younger version of her.
And then, real life tripped my brain out. I’d tracked through that compound with my M1 Carbine—and saw her. A little girl. In an actual cage. That image wrecked me for about a week. The same reoccurring dream of little Devi. Until she transformed into … Jordyn.
If my mind were a grave, I’d buried her almost six feet. Just an inch shy because she was always in the back of my thoughts. The adrenaline in the Marines, happy pills, none of it fully dulled the hurt. Even when I forgot why the pain felt so raw, my soul remembered.
Went to the Colonel the same day. I needed to retire.
But how the hell was I supposed to work that—what was it, dissociative amnesia?—into an apology? I slowed for a homeless person jaywalking across the road.
“Did your parents say why they didn’t rescue me or the other children? I know the answer won’t change the past. It’ll help me … forgive them.”
“Jordyn …” I turned into a stuttering mess. That same sorry excuse for a teenager who got stuffed in the locker when Camdyn ditched school. “I, uh, I forgot about you.” My gaze flitted from the windshield. As if that was necessary.
“Forgot?” Jordyn whispered, arms wrapped around herself. Her brown eyes were moist with unfallen tears.
The one word echoed in my ear—forgot. Felt like a sucker punch. I deserved it, though. “I don’t know how it happened.” At this point, I just let it all out. My words were as stiff as my walk down the halls of the schools in Long Beach, California. As I drove down Caesar Chavez, I brought up Devi and Tatum and the reason I almost took my life nearly a decade ago when that prostitute died. “It was as if my brain tried to right itself and erase some of the worst moments, only leaving me with that very first day of my abduction.” Even as I took on the clinical tone of a therapist, I felt like a numpty nugget. “I—”
“It’s okay. We all cope how we can. When I used to lie on my back, I allowed my mind to wander too. Used to be sparkly unicorns and Barbie dream houses. Then it was couture gowns and red bottoms.”
Her hand dropped on my forearm, and the touch gave me the courage to be brave. “No, it’s not okay, Jordyn. I want to explain. I’m gonna exp—” I glanced through the rearview mirror to figure out where I should stop, and my entire body went into fight mode. Cop cars. And their positioning. One. Two. Three cruisers. And an SUV. Fanned out wide. A net ready to capture.
A flash of red and blue lights hit the rearview mirror.
BLURP. Sirens rent the air. Rebel struggled to bark, and I didn’t get the chance to tell Jordyn about the day Nolan McGregor saved me. That day was so hazy. It made less sense than the loud boom of a female LAPD officer’s voice on the loudspeaker. “Pull over, now!”
Ruff. Ruff!
“Rebel,” I snapped.
“What did we do? You’re not even driving the speed limit,” Jordyn said.
“Nothing. I have a bad feeling about this. No sudden moves.” I pulled to the curb in front of a Taco Bell, slow and steady. Hands on the wheel. Engine idling low. Amid the commotion, teens exiting the fast-food restaurant pulled out their phones to record.
Good.
At my side, Jordyn’s eyes went round. “The backpack. We-we have guns in the backpack.”
“I didn’t forg—”
The woman on the loudspeaker barked. “Driver! Turn off the engine. Throw the keys out the window.”
Crap. This was the basic protocol for a stolen vehicle. I killed the engine, tossing the keys onto the asphalt. In the mirror, officers were already crouched behind the open doors of their vehicles, weapons drawn. Yep. Stolen vehicle protocol.
Way too aggressive. Something was seriously wrong.
“Driver, exit the vehicle. Hands up!”
I moved slowly with purpose. Every muscle screamed, I’m not a threat. Hands held high, I stepped out into the sunlight. All was dead silent except for a dog barking somewhere nearby and the murmur of people who had their phones out.