Chapter 8
EDEN
Present day…
M y lungs are on fire, and a nauseating pain is searing through my veins. It’s enough to drag my unwilling mind back to consciousness, even if my body doesn't join it.
The ache from breathing is familiar. It’s what I felt before I started fighting in the cages, back when I was still at the base of the mountain. Which means wherever I am, it’s not up the mountain like I should be.
The burn through the rest of my body, though, is foreign. It’s so violent that it blocks out everything else. I can’t think. I can’t move. I can’t process where I am.
All I can do is try to breathe through it, even as the sickly sweet air clings to my tongue and throat. It feels like a film blanketing my mouth, and my stomach roils in protest.
Fighting through the pain, I try to focus on anything else. Any sound. Any indication of what is happening. But my mind is too fuzzy. I can barely remember my own name at this point as the agony hits a new level.
Somewhere in the distance, I can make out muffled voices. Male voices. My heart leaps, but I can’t quite place who I hope it’ll be.
It doesn’t matter, though. Before I can wrestle my awareness into submission, a new wave of pain slams into me. It seizes my body, shakes every thought loose, and I lose myself in a sea of black as unconsciousness claims me ? —
And I snap awake. The dream fades much faster than my heartrate, even as my eyes sweep the room. I take deep breaths to calm my racing pulse as I take in the light spilling in from the window and the view of the mountains outside.
I fell asleep , I realize. And I think I was having a nightmare if the sweat clinging to my skin and harsh breaths are any indication. I just don’t remember it at all.
After Kieran left, I renewed my efforts in getting out of the room.
I didn’t bother with the mirror, instead focusing on trying to move the window pane out of place, locate a vent, or any other way out.
Eventually, I was forced to face the truth: there is no getting out of the room besides through the door.
Despite my brief interactions with Kieran, which I spent all night dissecting, I didn’t want to let down my guard enough to sleep. Instead, I kept my eyes on the door as I turned over his words again and again.
Home. Wife. It’s me. Mo chuisle.
The way he wouldn’t look at me. The way he snapped. The obvious emotions he was trying to keep under control. I can’t stop thinking that it all felt too genuine.
If Kieran really controls the city, then he wouldn’t need to win me over. He wouldn’t need to lie and manipulate me, right? Unless he needs me cooperative.
It’s been a back and forth conversation I’ve had with myself all night. One that has gotten me nowhere.
I guess sometime after the doctor and the guard—Jude—left, my body gave out on me. Judging by the light outside, I was only asleep for a few hours. It looks to be early afternoon.
Deciding that is enough sleep for now, I go to the closet where I have a few changes of clothes that Jude brought with him. I didn’t like the way he watched me—or the way that he quickly intercepted my attack when they first entered the room.
When I first met his stare, though, there was something vaguely familiar about his eyes.
Like I’d seen the color before. They were like the lightest hue of the sky as the sun came up.
The pale blue of frozen water that I was certain I’d seen before.
His icy glare should have been unnerving, but he managed to calm me enough to get examined.
Shaking that off, I dress and pull my hair up in a high ponytail. I have some basic toiletries, too, as well as bottles of water—so I could see they hadn’t been tampered with, Jude had said. It had nearly made me smile that he understood how I was feeling.
Dressed in a new soft green sweater that hugged my frame perfectly, warm black leggings, and boots I’m already in love with, I feel oddly more comfortable than I have since I woke up in that tent. I don’t want to linger on that thought too long.
And luckily, I don’t have to.
A knock on my door pulls my attention, and my brows furrow as I stare at it. Am I supposed to give permission to enter? I don’t even have the means to open the damn thing.
I’m still staring at the door when it opens a fraction.
A very pretty woman about my age pops her head in, a bright smile on her face.
Her dark hair is piled on her head in a messy bun, making her look even more approachable.
Between her slender frame, light brown eyes that are dancing with excitement, and the light smattering of freckles across her face, there is no part of her that doesn’t come across as friendly.
“I promised that I wouldn’t barge in, but I couldn’t wait any longer.” She slips inside, shutting the door behind her. “It has been so awful being surrounded by growly men all by myself.” She gives me a playful pout. “How could you do that to me?”
My brows raise, and I wonder if I’m supposed to know this woman. Even if I didn’t before, I kind of want to now. She seems funny, and for once, I don’t feel so on edge around someone.
For the most part, no one has treated me like a person. In the rebel camp, Damian was concerned about symptoms and if I was eating. Since I’ve been here, I’ve been locked away and only interacted with Kieran—which has been far from normal.
But this woman isn’t approaching me hesitantly. She isn’t telling me she heard what happened or trying to explain something that I don’t know if I should believe.
And even if I have no clue how to respond, it’s nice.
She rolls her eyes despite me not answering, but her smile never falters. “It’s just like you to get yourself kidnapped and leave me here to deal with all the testosterone and fighting.”
“Are you looking for an apology?” I can’t keep myself from teasing her back, crossing my arms and cocking my hip to one side.
She puts her hands on her hips as she nods. “And don’t keep me waiting.”
I press my lips together, trying to fight my smile. Maybe I should be suspicious of her, but there is something about her that feels trustworthy.
Quirking a brow, I ask, “And if I don’t give you one?”
Her lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Then I won’t bust you out of here.”
I blink at that. Can she do that?
She nods, her grin growing. “That’s right. So you better get back in my good graces.”
But all playfulness has left my body. If getting out of this room is an option, I need to know. I can get a better idea of where I am and hopefully get my bearings.
At this point, I’m just trying to find something that feels right . I can’t rely on my memories or anyone around me, and I’m hoping that my gut can at least steer me in the right direction.
Her expression starts to soften a bit as I stare at her, clearly seeing that I’m no longer teasing. “I suppose I can forgive you. Even if you refuse to apologize.”
I step forward, my hand once again brushing against my thigh despite there being nothing there. It feels like there should be, though. “Listen…” I realize she never told me her name.
“Mika.” It’s her first acknowledgement that she knows I can’t remember.
“Right. Mika.” My eyes flick toward the door before moving back to her. “Can you really get me out of here?”
She crosses to me, looping her arm through mine. “You’ll quickly remember that if there’s something I want, I get.” Her brown eyes dart toward me as she adds, “And you’re no different.”
That at least sounds right. I doubt there’s an agreeable bone in my body, though I wonder if I was this distrustful before.
It’s hard to know who I am without being able to remember all the experiences that made me this way.
But my inability to back down? My resourcefulness?
My anger that doesn’t waver in the face of fear? All of that feels innate.
It’s almost nice to have that confirmed.
If you can trust her , a little voice whispers in the back of my mind.
Despite that lingering suspicion, I follow when Mika tugs me toward the door. She pulls it open, showing that it was never locked behind her.
I almost hesitate when we step over the threshold, and I find a pair of dark blue eyes narrowed on me.
“Mika,” the man growls. He’s large, towering over the two of us—though for Mika, that’s nearly everyone. “What are you doing?”
She rolls her eyes, not one bit intimidated. “She isn’t a prisoner here, Till. This is her home .”
His nostrils flare. This guy is uptight. “Kieran said?—“
She turns away from him. “Tell him that it was me, and it’ll be fine.”
“ Mika .”
She whips around, all of that sunshine personality suddenly disappearing under a razor-sharp glare and a tense posture that tells me she should never be underestimated.
“You know damn well that Kieran doesn’t have his head on straight, and he’d rather her be happy with me than follow any stupid order he gave you.
” She drops my arm, stepping closer to him, and I notice her hand twitching.
I wonder if she’s got a weapon on her. “Now I’m going to take a walk with Eden like you’ve seen me do a thousand times, and you are going to fuck off before I tell my husband how you are speaking to me. ”
That has Till swallowing hard as he straightens, his eyes flicking away from her. He doesn’t say a word, but it’s clear he received the message.
I have so many questions about the interaction, but before I can formulate a single one, Mika spins back around as if nothing happened. Her posture is relaxed and a bright smile is on her face again. She meant it when she said she always gets what she wants.
I think I really like her.
Looping her arm back through mine again, she tugs me down the hall. “Now how about a tour?”