Chapter Twenty-Two
I didn’t know if I wanted to scream, or run, or collapse.
But as the helicopter descended, scattering the humans back from its downdraft, I realized there was nowhere left to go. No sky to glide through, no ground safe enough to hide me.
So I stayed where I was, trembling, mud-streaked and half-nude beneath the sun, watching the man who’d come to collect his broken experiment.
Except I wasn’t an experiment, not really. I was the improbable child of two facility prisoners, born from a love that had consumed them both. I’d been conceived in defiance, then thrust into a world that would never forgive me for it.
The helicopter’s blades thundered above, shredding the air. Dust and river spray lashed against my skin as I tried to shield my face with my wings. Everything blurred...until I saw him.
Adam.
He jumped from the chopper before it had even settled, the wind clawing at his tailored suit.
His black jacket snapped like a banner, his tie—blue this time, because of course he’d found time to change—whipped against his throat.
Even broken, he found a way to look like power itself.
His dark hair, always groomed and disciplined, was torn loose by the wind.
For the first time, he didn’t look untouchable.
The grit-laced air tore at my throat, but I couldn’t look away.
His stride was uneven, subtle at first, then undeniable.
A faint limp, his right leg dragging just slightly, the edge of a blood-stained bandage visible beneath his torn pant leg.
His hand—his left—was wrapped, too, bruises darkening the edges.
His golden eyes found me through the chaos, and there was no hesitation, no calculation. Just raw, unguarded relief.
He stepped closer. “You’re all right.”
Even above the whirling rotors, his words hit me like a blow.
His voice cracked with exhaustion, with something I couldn’t name.
Before I could move, he closed the distance and reached for me.
His fingers brushed my shoulder, warm, trembling, and then his arm came around my waist, pulling me against him.
I froze. The heat of him burned through my cold, mud-caked skin. His heart hammered hard enough that I could feel it through the thin layer of his shirt, and his spiced scent, so impossibly familiar, stole my breath in a gasp of yearning.
“You’re hurt,” I choked out before I could stop myself.
He didn’t answer. Just tightened his grip, his breath harsh against my hair. “Let’s get you away from here. From them.”
He turned us toward the chopper, his limp more pronounced now. I should have resisted. I should have fought him. But I didn’t.
The world was a blur of wind and shouts, phones raised, faces gawking. And Adam—bloodied, limping, jaw tight with pain—shielded me with his body and ignored it all.
When he lifted me into the cabin, I felt the strain in him, the quiet hiss of breath through his teeth, the tremor in his arm.
But he didn’t falter. My wings folded tight around me, my heart pounding too fast, too loud.
I didn’t know if I wanted to run or reach for him.
He was supposed to be the monster. Not this man who bled because someone else had hurt me first.
He followed me inside, reaching for me yet again to put on my harness, then my headset, before he did his own.
The helicopter lifted then, swallowing us in its roar as the earth fell away beneath us. Every vibration, every chop of the rotors struck a discordant chord within, but as he adjusted my position, his arm firm across my back, I felt...safe.
As I clutched his shoulder, mud and blood slicked between us, I felt the faint tremor of his body with every breath, and knew, without needing to look, it was his ribs.
The injury was too subtle for anyone else to notice, but I’d seen Adam move, watched him fight, felt him breathe too many times not to sense the difference.
Each inhale was shallow, almost painful, the bandage beneath his jacket a small but noticeable bulge. He’d ignored the pain, had barely flinched when he’d lifted me to safety, as if I’d weighed nothing at all.
The cabin was suddenly claustrophobic, the warm air thick with the scent of leather and residual oil. I pressed my face into the crook of Adam’s neck, my wings folded tightly around me as emotions churned violently inside me.
The helicopter cleared the tree line, leaving behind the chaos at the river. Then his uneven, ragged breathing caught my attention yet again. Each exhale was a quiet reminder that his body had limits. And I hated myself for noticing it.
He shifted slightly, adjusting his bandaged ribs against the curve of my body.
His gold eyes, catching the sunlight through the helicopter’s windows, met mine for a heartbeat.
Concern? Fear? Something human? Before I could dwell on it, all emotion vanished, replaced by the cool mask of control he always wore.
“You’re shaking,” he said quietly. His eyes stayed shuttered, but I saw it anyway—the relief, the fury, the bone-deep weariness. The kind of honesty that made me want to hug him and bolt in the same breath.
“I’m fine,” I muttered, my teeth chattering despite the warmth of the cabin.
“You’re safe,” he added. And even though I didn’t trust him, I felt the thread of truth, the flicker of care that was both fragile and quietly familiar.
I pressed my forehead harder against him, trying to hide the tears I thought had long dried. My wings twitched restlessly. He didn’t seem to mind. He kept me tucked close, his grip steady and strong, despite the pain he tried not to show.
Doubts filled me. Was this compassion or another kind of manipulation?
Maybe it was both. Maybe it was the illusion I’d built for myself, something softer to hide the sharp edges of who he really was.
Yet for a brief, impossible moment, I let myself hope that maybe he wasn’t the monster I’d made him out to be.
Fear slammed back into place. Because if I trusted him even a fraction, if that trust was unfounded and I was wrong, I’d lose everything.
My gaze drifted to the window, following the blur of city streets and the ribbon of river below until the trees spread out across the land like an emerald tide.
We were heading back. Back to the mountain home that had been my prison for twelve months. The place I’d escaped and the place I missed in equal measure. My cage and my shelter, and the first place that had ever felt like home.
The helicopter dipped low, the pilot hovering over the landing pad on the blunt roof of Adam’s home.
Then the metal bird shuddered as it set us down, its blades whining as they slowed.
My heart hammered as I squeezed my eyes shut, caught between a past I couldn’t outrun and a present I barely trusted.
Adam didn’t hesitate. He unbuckled our harnesses and removed our headsets, and before I could protest, he lifted me into his arms as if I belonged there. But the tremor in his muscles and his shallow breathing betrayed the pain he couldn’t hide.
When he carried me inside, stepping through the corridor with its priceless objects displayed in niches behind glass, I barely resisted shuddering. I was just another Rembrandt, another meteor fragment, another Ming vase. A priceless commodity he owned.
When he stepped past my suite, confusion prickled through my exhaustion. I looked up at his unyielding expression. “Where are you taking me?”
He smiled, the strain in his face softening for a fleeting moment. “I have a surprise waiting for you.” He turned right, slowing near another set of doors. “It was going to be your birthday present.”
My throat tightened. Until I’d ran away. He didn’t need to say it.
The doors slid open, revealing a cozy lounge. A big screen flickered with a movie I didn’t recognize. Before I could take it in, a familiar blonde head looked up at me from the lounge. I inhaled sharply. “Angel,” I whispered.
She shot to her feet, her wings—unbound and radiant—flaring wide behind her cut-out white dress as she ran toward me. “Bella!”
Adam stepped back as I caught her in my arms. Laughter and tears blurred together, the sound filling the space and breaking something loose inside me. When I finally pulled away, I stared at her. She looked healthy. Whole. The startling white of her long dress showcasing the warm glow of her skin.
“I thought you were dead,” I said, my voice unsteady.
She grinned. “I almost was.” Her shudder rippled through me, echoing my own sentiments. “That facility...it drained the life right out of my soul. No wonder so many of us died.” Her gaze swept over me and narrowed. “Speaking of which, you look like hell.”
I glanced down at the mud and blood smeared across my clothes, skin, everywhere. I winced. “I guess my freedom came at a price.”
She giggled. “You never did do anything by halves. Remember when you punched that guard for touching me? You paid for it, big time.” Her joy died off, her expression sharpening. “I was so terrified when they dragged you off to solitary. The guilt nearly killed me.”
Adam stiffened beside me. “When did this happen?”
Angel turned to him, eyes wide in mock surprise. “What—you didn’t know?” She gave a low laugh. “I bet they never told you half the times she was disciplined and drugged, and sometimes even tortured. She was one of the few who ever stood up to them.”
I shook my head. “Don’t. It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”
Angel frowned. “What about the others still there? What if they’re being punished, drugged and tortured...or worse?”
I closed my eyes. The guilt had lived inside me long enough to be woven into my bones. “I can’t bear to think about them,” I whispered. “Just, let me hold on to this moment. You’re free. You’re alive. That’s enough.”
“You’re right.” Her tone gentled. “You’ve been through enough. And I am free and healthy.” She brightened suddenly. “Remember that dream I used to talk about? Guess what? I lived it. I went to the beach. It was beautiful. And so incredibly healing.”
I blinked. “What—how? Who took you? How did you get there?”
She angled a glance at Adam. “Who do you think? His helicopter got us there in no time.”
Adam smiled faintly, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’ll leave you two to catch up.”
I almost called after him, then stopped myself. I’d run from him, how could I reach for him now?
The door swung shut behind him. No lock clicked into place. No guard waited outside. Just quiet. The kind that made my heart pound even harder. It was like waiting for the silence to morph into a scream.
I looked away, refocusing on Angel. That was when I realized she had no cuff on her ankle, nothing to keep her from leaving.
A sharp, stabbing envy almost folded me in half, my breath hissing. What had she done to experience such...freedom? Why had I been subjected to the permanent ankle cuff that kept me imprisoned, like a dog on a leash?
“We have so much catching up to do!” Angel squealed, clearly oblivious to my turbulent emotions. “Go have a shower. There are plenty of clothes in my wardrobe. Then we’ll talk.”
I nodded, moving toward the bathroom on unsteady legs. Her bathroom. The thought hit sharper than it should have, stirring yet another flicker of envy. I’d run away, and somehow, I was jealous of the woman who’d taken my place.
Steam filled the air as I stripped and stepped under the spray. The hot water washed away the mud, the blood, the grime, layer after layer of what I’d become. And with it, I let go of my stupid, territorial ache.
I refused to be a victim ever again.