Chapter 67
Wake.
His hands are on me, lifting me out of the machine, cradling me against his chest. His touch is firm but gentle, and even through the haze of pain, I feel a rush of relief. He’s here. He’s got me.
“Lily St. Cloud,” I hear him snarl, his voice filled with rage. “I’m coming back for you. You will answer for this.”
I can’t see what’s happening, but I feel his muscles tense as he carries me. The alarms start blaring, but it’s too late. Wake is already moving, his grip on me tight as he bolts for the door.
Wake's arms are like iron around me, his muscles tensing as he barrels through the facility. The alarms blare, echoing in my skull, but I can’t react to any of it. My body is frozen, locked in this terrible state of paralysis, and all I can do is hang limp in his arms.
As we tear down another corridor, we're suddenly surrounded by guards. Wake sets me down gently, his eyes locking onto mine for a brief moment. It’s as if he’s making sure I’m still with him, still fighting, even though I can’t move, can’t speak. He runs a hand across my face, brushing a strand of hair out of my eyes. There’s a tenderness there, so at odds with the chaos surrounding us—the sirens of the facility blaring, the shouts of the guards getting closer.
“If you are able,close your eyes,” he commands, his voice low and rough, but there’s no room for argument in his tone. But then he turns his back to me, facing our assailants, and I refuse to look away.
The first of the guards appear, rifles aimed, shouting orders. They’ve caught up to us. Wake straightens, and something in him changes—a switch flips, the calm exterior cracking as pure rage flares in his eyes. His muscles ripple beneath his skin, and for a split second, I wonder if he’s going to shift, right here, right now.
But he doesn’t. He doesn’t need to.
Wake moves like a force of nature, faster than I thought possible. The first guard barely gets a shot off before Wake is on him, grabbing the barrel of the rifle and twisting it from the man’s hands with a sickening crunch. The man stumbles back, but Wake is relentless. He slams a fist into the guard’s chest, sending him flying into the wall with bone-shattering force.
I’ve never seen him like this—completely unleashed. There’s no hesitation, no mercy in his movements. He grabs the next guard by the throat, lifting him clean off the ground and tossing him aside as if he weighs nothing. The others open fire, but the bullets seem to graze off him, barely slowing him down.
He’s brutal.
Another guard lunges at him with a knife, but Wake catches the blade in midair, twisting the man’s wrist until the knife clatters to the ground. He slams his knee into the guard’s stomach, then flips him over his shoulder, sending him crashing to the ground with a heavy thud. He moves like a predator, his strikes precise, deadly.
And as I watch, I can’t bring myself to be repulsed. I should be. I should be terrified, watching him tear through these men as if they’re nothing. Marina’s words echo in my mind: barbarian, brute.
But all I feel is a deep, overwhelming sense of awe. Wake isn’t just a fighter—he’s a protector. He’s fighting for me, tearing through anyone who dares to stand between us, and I… I love him for it.
The word shocks me, reverberating through my mind like a thunderclap. Love. I love him. How can I love someone like this? Someone capable of such violence, such unrelenting brutality?
But I do, because he is willing to put his life on the line for me despite the immeasurable harm I've caused to him and his people. And yet, he fights for me anyway.
A guard charges at Wake from behind, but he doesn’t even turn. His elbow snaps back, connecting with the guard’s jaw, and I hear the crack of bone. The man collapses, unconscious before he even hits the ground. Another guard screams, swinging the butt of his rifle at Wake’s head, but Wake catches it effortlessly, twisting the weapon from the man’s hands and using it to knock him out in a single blow.
It’s over in seconds. The guards lie scattered on the ground, groaning, unconscious—or worse. I don’t dare look too closely. Wake stands in the middle of the carnage, his chest heaving, covered in a mix of sweat and blood. His eyes are still wild, still burning with that primal rage, but when he looks at me, it softens.
He’s back.
He walks over to me, crouching down beside me, and for a moment, all the violence, all the death, fades away. His hand brushes my cheek again, the same tenderness from before returning as he looks at me with concern.
“You’re safe now,” he murmurs, his voice barely rough from exertion.
The pain in my body is searing, but distant, like it’s on the edge of my awareness, waiting for the moment to crush me entirely. I try to scream, to tell him to stop, to let me die here instead of putting himself at risk for me, but my lips won’t move.
Then, in the silence of my mind, something strange happens.
Wake, I think, my desperation filling the void. Thank you for coming for me.
There’s a pause as his gaze flickers to mine, and then his voice is inside my head, calm and steady despite the chaos surrounding us.
His response is immediate, and it’s filled with an odd mix of frustration and affection, You called me.
I feel a surge of disbelief. You…you can hear me. Are we…we’re talking!
I hope you are proud of yourself, he says, his tone laced with irritation. It looks like your ridiculous test did not fail completely.
The fear that has been gnawing at me since the procedure rises to the surface, sharper and more terrifying than before. What’s happening to me, Wake?
He doesn’t sugarcoat it. You’re going to die unless I get you off this island. Soon.
Die. The word slices through me, cutting deeper than the pain in my body. I feel my lungs tighten, panic threatening to overwhelm me. Off the island, where? Where are you taking me?
Wake rounds a corner, his footsteps never faltering as we barrel toward the exit. Your homesea. It’s the only way you’ll survive.
I don't have a homesea, Wake.
His voice is firm, unwavering. You do. It’s the birthplace of your great-aunt and your grandmother. It would have been the place where your mother was born—and you—if your family line hadn’t been disrupted.
Realization hits me like a tidal wave. The Sea of Japan.
Yes, he confirms. That’s where we’re going.
Before I can ask how when it's hundreds of miles away, we burst through another set of doors. The bright light of the outside world blinds me for a second. Wake moves faster now, his breath steady as he sprints across the open ground. I can hear the shouts behind us—guards yelling, weapons clattering. They’re right on our heels.
My heart pounds in my chest, each beat a reminder of how fragile my life is in this moment. Wake, what if you can’t—
You need to trust me, he interrupts, his tone sharper now, more urgent.
He’s moving toward a cliff—the ocean stretching out below, waves crashing violently against jagged rocks. The sight sends a jolt of fear through me, but there’s no hesitation in Wake’s stride. He stops at the edge, looking down into the churning waters far below.
He turns his gaze to me, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that sends a shiver through my paralyzed body. Will you?
Always, I think back.
Good, he says softly, almost tenderly. Don’t breathe through your nose.
Before I can question him, he presses his lips to mine. It’s not a kiss— I can feel the warmth of his breath as he breathes life into me.
And then he jumps.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
