Page 141 of Lamb

Perhaps this was my own war. The first I had survived, dragged from the depths of hell, not by my own strength but of another far stronger than I could ever be. By someone who found light in me where I had only seen darkness.

Now I was walking back into that darkness. My fire was no roaring inferno of revenge or fury. It was warm and licked at theshadows skittering along the edges, neither pushing them back nor letting them closer. It was strong, but I feared perhaps not strong enough.

Lamb squeezed my hand tight. He had been a wall at my side, stone-cold and rigid as we had left the hall. His fingers were a scalding warmth around my own, his stiff posture betraying none of the anxiety and spiralling fear building in me with each step deeper into the myriad hotel. In fact, he seemed perfectly calm as we walked into the den of the cruellest, coldest man known in existence, as if he was leisurely enjoying the art and paintings lined along the walls.

A small pang of jealousy raised its head.

I would be getting a bionic brain the second I was able to.

The employee turned a sharp corner, and as we followed, two large ivory doors with delicate carving and real gold-plated ornate letters stood tall and opulent at the end of the hallway. It screamed ostentatious, and though there had been no direct elevator arrival as with Lamb’s, a penthouse needed no introduction.

Nor who would be waiting beyond it.

I could feel it now—the tremble in my legs, the iron cage around my lungs, and the dredging sickness in my stomach. My breath caught on my lips, my hand wringing into the sides of my dress.

Dragging us close enough, the employee stopped a few feet from the doors. He made no motion to knock, nor announce our arrival. Instead, he turned to us, glanced at me, and politely nodded at Lamb before turning on his heels and walking briskly away.

We were alone.

The reality that on the other side of those doors stood the horrendous hell I had run, clawed, and hidden myself from was too heavy a thought to bear.

Cowardice screamed within me. We had an opportunity, a chance. We could turn, and leave, and burn this horrendous plan to ash. Go back on the run, get as far away from here as possible. Be safe.

But would I?

I had spent a long time running. I had gone far. I had hidden in the darkest places and vanquished any trace of my existence. Never once had I ever felt truly safe.

There would be no more running.

No more hiding.

I was done.

Lamb, waiting patiently for my mind to go through the motions, looked down at me. Those sweet brown eyes were sharp and clear, but something else danced behind them. Something strange and new, something so tangled and blurred that I could not quite make out what it was or where it belonged.

“Do you trust me?” Lamb breathed, his hand tightening around my own.

I remembered our moments. In the few short weeks that we had spent together, and through all manner of insane, and crazy, and psychotic things we had done to each other, we had entwined ourselves into tight knots. It was clumsy and messy, but somehow untangling ourselves now would be an impossible task.

I opened my mouth, the truth poised on the tip of my tongue. But then I caught that small glint again, fluttering across his eyes.

“No,” I whispered, the lie pulled from between my teeth.

Lamb smiled, his shoulders softening with relief that curdled in my chest. “Good.”

He lifted his hand, ready to rasp his knuckles against the ivory wood.

They didn’t connect before the white doors pulled away and a man affixed with a deep scowl, dressed head to toe in a black suit, filled the void. His dark eyes ran down my figure and Lamb’s once before stepping aside and pressing a finger to a small earpiece.

“Alexandra Rothwell and Christopher Black have arrived.”

My birthname felt cold and foreign. It had been so long since I had heard it, in the same territory as it had been given to me. Now, it belonged to a stranger.

Alexandria was a girl who knew nothing. Wanted nothing. Learned nothing. Not a single scar, or blemish, or flaw in her appearance. The perfect ghost.

I was no longer her. Nor would I ever be.

“My name isAsh,” I snapped at the guard with more bravado than I owned as I pushed past him.

---