Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96065 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 480(@200wpm)___ 384(@250wpm)___ 320(@300wpm)
It switches to a video of a farmhouse nestled in front of a belt of trees. A tire swing hangs from the large tree out front. Wind makes the swing move and you can hear the creaking of the branch supporting it. The windows of the farmhouse are open and I hear laughter inside.
Though these are happy, they also make me sad. I think about the ring on my finger, the man who’s probably searching for me, the budding love that’s been stolen from me.
“Interesting,” Seth says. “There’s a discrepancy.”
If these men think they can somehow figure out my brain, they’re sorely mistaken. There are parts buried deep inside, even from me. So close, yet barely out of reach.
“Let’s show you something more familiar to you,” Seth mumbles, mostly to himself. “Ah, this one works.”
The video now shows me and Caius at the event we attended for the president. I drink in all the details, making note of every person I can get my eyes on. When the picture lands on Caius, my stomach tightens and tears form. He’s glaring in that intense way that makes me crazy with need. The camera follows his line of sight.
He’s looking at me.
I’m being bombarded by guys who are clearly interested in me. In my heart, I know I don’t care about any of them. I’ve been enamored with Caius for some time now.
The way he stalks me with purpose and possessive need makes me smile.
My heart races in my chest as he approaches me.
I can almost smell him.
Feel him.
Taste him.
I get lost in the visual that merges with my memory of the event.
He’d proposed. Later, he made love to me. He meant it.
A soon-to-be husband wouldn’t leave his soon-to-be wife in the hands of monsters. Like a dark prince from a wicked fairy tale, he’ll come for me. He’ll shine a light into the shadows and lift every stone.
He. Will. Find. Me.
I can hear voices speaking and they seem pleased. I’m too lost in my momentary thoughts of Caius to be worried about what they’re saying.
They don’t exist to me.
I’m with him.
Dark eyes. Sharp jawline. Decadent scent. Strong, capable fingers all over me.
“She’s ready,” Doc Junior says, cutting through my lovely haze. “Prep her for surgery.”
Surgery?
“No,” I mutter, voice dry and practically useless. “Please.”
They choose not to hear.
This is happening.
“Don’t worry,” Seth assures me, “I’ll make sure everything goes according to plan. You’re safe with me, Romy. Stem Lock is about to change your life.”
“You’re welcome,” Doc Junior states with a chuckle.
I recall what he’d said about the Stem Lock procedure. They’ll attach that miniature device to my brainstem and I’ll be magically healed.
I can’t forget.
No matter what this procedure does to my brain, I refuse to forget.
Caius
Guilt consumes me.
I gave Dad the answer he wanted. By choosing Calista, I’m choosing him—asking for his help.
That means abandoning Romy.
For now.
What he doesn’t realize is that when I can physically move on my own, and once I have my sister in my grasp, I’m going to do everything in my power to get Romy back too.
“There you go,” Dad says, once he’s helped settle me into a wheelchair the nurse brought in. “I’ll take you to her.”
Is she here?
In this hospital?
Am I even in a hospital?
Dad begins pushing my wheelchair. The nurse opens the door to assist in our exit. As soon as we emerge from my room, I’m hit with a cold sense of familiarity. I claw at memories, but the drugs in my veins are making things murky.
I know this place.
I’m eager to see Calista. And yet, Dad seems to be pushing me in slow motion. The haze in my mind keeps me from fully grasping onto reality.
Who am I?
Caius Crowne.
Why do I feel as though I’m fifteen years old again, a slave to a torturous life I want no part of?
We pass by room after room, all the doors closed, until we come to one that’s open.
Is this it?
Do I finally get to hold my sister in my arms?
Will I even recognize her?
Doubtful. My brain has always been muddled when it comes to Calista. It’s like I can’t recall her features at all. I have no memories of our childhood together. Sometimes I wonder if I dreamed her or made her up in my head.
The doll.
Right, the doll. I remembered the doll as clear as day. It was the same doll I found on the table at the coffee shop. How long ago was that? Yesterday? Last week? I have no concept of time or how long I’ve been held captive in this place.
Calista is real.
Dad pushes me into a room where a young girl sleeps soundly on a bed, hooked to machines that are monitoring her vitals.
It’s not Calista.
It’s Kaitlyn.
Calista can’t be Kaitlyn because too much time has passed. The numbers don’t compute.