4. Luna
LUNA
PRESENT…
The man who introduced himself as Sawyer snaps his head to the left, his gaze scanning the trees. I listen closely for what he must hear, but the only sound is my breathing and a couple of birds chattering nearby.
Turning toward me, he reaches for my hand. I yank it back, body reacting before my brain can catch up, jolting like he’s holding a knife. I expect a frown, but get infectious fear instead—wide eyes and parted lips that make my heart rate climb. “Come on, we have to hurry.”
Hurry.
As if he’s just remembered the danger. A moment ago, he was all smiles and soft words, calm within a storm.
When he turns and jogs off, something primal yanks me after him. Heavy breaths pump in and out of me all over again. I try to ask myself the right questions, but my head is heavy and fogged. My heart races so fast it’s hard to remember what to think or what to do.
Who are we running from?
What game is this?
I don’t ask in case my voice carries through the trees to the men who were after me (us?). My foot catches on a tree root as I stumble after the blue-eyed stranger, but in a few strides, I’m matching his pace in a run.
He weaves us through the forest like an expert of this path while I trust him blindly. Until I remember it’s stupid to trust him at all.
“Where are we going?” I ask, though it’s where we are that’s the most pressing question. I keep thinking about the newness of the cell, of the shovel just outside of it. The trap set, but by who? Them? Him? Another unknown? “What’s happening?”
“Shhh, don’t worry, Luna,” Sawyer whispers as he slows, his hand planting between my shoulder blades as he looks behind us. I tense but don’t pull away this time. “I’ll explain everything in a minute.”
After he’s satisfied that no one is following, he slides me in front of him and ushers me forward with his hand drifting halfway down my spine—a touch so tender, I shudder. My back goes rigid. “It’s not much farther.”
The stream I jumped over is much wider at this end, water rushing around moss-covered rocks that form a path across—slippery, jagged stepping stones.
Sawyer pulls ahead of me to hop onto the first rock with no hesitation, which makes it even more apparent that he’s traveled this path before.
He turns and holds his hand out for me. “Come on.”
I just stare at him.
“It’s safe. I promise.”
I eye the stream that looks more like a river now. If I had to guess, I’d say I couldn’t touch the bottom.
“Luna, look at me.”
The command pulls my gaze back to Sawyer, a shiver fanning across the back of my neck. He says my name like he’s known me for more than half an hour, and it’s… wrong. Too fast. Too intimate.
“I’ve got you… Trust me.”
Trust me.
No.
No sane person would; not even with black-clothed monsters chasing them.
Unless, of course, they had no other choice.
I toss a look over my shoulder before carefully making my way a foot down the muddy slope. I reach out for his hand, barely grasping it, and yelp as he pulls me onto the rock, my body slamming into his with a leap.
“You’re okay,” he says, strong arms wrapped around me. “I’ve got you.”
Cold water splashes my bare feet, reminding me of the autumn chill. It’s colder than it was when I went to sleep. My feet numb even as I sweat.
“Do you want to climb onto my back?” Sawyer asks, bringing my attention to him. When I nod, he turns with his hands reaching behind him like he’s ready to catch me. I take a deep breath and hop up, my arms hooking around his neck as he holds up my hips.
He squeezes my calves, making my thighs twitch. “Ready?”
Clutching him tighter, I nod, cheek scraping cotton. “Yes.”
I’m mentally prepared for it, but still, I gasp as he lunges toward the next rock several feet away.
He pauses half a second before leaping to the next and the next while I latch myself to him, arms and legs hooking him in a python squeeze.
More afraid of him slipping on a mossy rock than dropping me.
My lungs release as he makes the jump to land, his body tensing as his legs wobble in the mud. After he balances, he places me on my feet and turns to me.
“You okay?” he asks, gingerly grasping my shoulders. Something red catches my eye, and I look down to see a strange, web-like patch of tough flesh covering the back of one of his hands. There’s another patch up his arm.
Burns?
“We should keep going.”
His hands slip away, navy blue sleeves cloaking the scars. When I meet his eyes, I can tell he noticed me examining them, but he doesn’t comment.
He reaches for my hand once more, pausing an inch short—an invitation, not a command. It’s the simplest of gestures, but it feels symbolic. The tiniest release of control. Maybe another girl would give it.
I cross my arms over my chest and lower my head, following him when he hardly misses a beat.
He leads me through the forest for several minutes before the top of a large, peach-colored building appears.
A colorful mural reveals itself on the side of the building as we break through the trees, standing atop a hill.
Halfway down is a group of people doing yoga on purple mats that make it seem like we stepped into another world.
A safer world, a world so flamboyant it makes me queasy.
But it’s an illusion. There are no roads leading to the building, only a paved walking path extending beyond sight. Same world—more color.
“Where are we?”
Sawyer squeezes my hand. “Home.”
Home.
Ominous, calm, spoken with a hint of pride. He stares warmly at the building, hands loose at his sides, relaxed. The corners of his mouth are tugged into the slightest of smiles that looks so real, so subtle, I almost have to believe it.
But it’s fake.
He’s calm, then panicked, then calm. Manipulating my heart rate with his own breath—steadying, spiking, soothing. Like he can’t make up his mind whether the danger is on our heels or out of reach.
He’s faking. But why?
Motive?
My lips part, the accusation perched on the edge of my tongue. I hold it there while my mind whirs, sorting through what a weak, scared captive would say instead—unthreatening and docile.
Do not show your cards.
Do not share your knowledge.
Think. Study. Wait. Survive.
“Are we safe now?” I ask with a tremor in my voice that surprises me. Unfolding my arms, I look back at the forest, though the real danger is at my side. I’m sure of it.
Sawyer peers at me, the smile slipping. “Almost.” He takes my hand—no invitation this time—and starts down the hill, his hold firm but not so tight I couldn’t slip away. It’s a test, I think; one I pass with a limp, conceding grasp.
Or I’m overthinking the hell out of this. Out of him. Out of everything.
In any case, I let him lead me to the building, the mottled flesh on his palm becoming more familiar with each step.
As soon as we walk inside, we’re slapped in the face with color.
Literally, glitter falls onto our heads from a tray above the door at the same time a cheery bell chimes at our entrance.
Everywhere I look is color. Every piece of lobby furniture looks like a rainbow exploded and left no survivors.
The purple countertop, the orange chairs, the blue walls.
Even the floor is made up of multi-colored tiles that resemble a pastel rubik’s cube.
“Hey, Sawyer.” A blonde in a pink mini-skirt waves as she passes to go outside, perfume wafting. Her lips are pulled into a flirtatious smile, and I don’t miss that she doesn’t look at me, even when I openly stare.
“Zephyr.” He nods as she passes then looks back at me. “Try to blend in.”
Blend in.
There hasn’t been a second of my life that I’ve blended in.
I duck my head and don’t make eye contact with anyone as Sawyer leads me up three slippery flights of stairs, the air thick with orange-scented floor cleaner.
The stairwell is far from empty—various rainbow-colored people scattered about, a card game taking place on one step, toenails painted on another.
But still, it’s stark silent as we pass, eyes—some concerned, some fearful—watching us carefully.
Afraid of Sawyer… or of me.
Afraid for me… or for Sawyer.
“Where are we?” I try again as we break from the stairwell onto a floor with rooms lining a long hallway.
Bean bag chairs, coffee mugs, and a frisbee strewn about as if this is a college dormitory instead of a place self-respecting adults live.
Strings of beads take the place of doors to each room, and as a pair of young men blocking one notice us, they begin to clean up the mess around them, smiles slipping off their faces.
Sawyer leads me through one of the beaded entrances into a room that immediately strikes me as out of place. The color is missing. The furniture is regular stained wood, and the walls are white. The comforter is a simple, navy blue, the same shade as his shirt.
He plops onto the bed and rubs his forehead. “Shit, that was intense.” He laughs and looks up at me with a smile like we’ve just shared something between us. Like I should laugh along.
I don’t.
“Where the fuck are we?”
I steel my spine while staring at him, his smile slowly falling. Now that we’re out of the woods, anger seems more appropriate than fear.
He rubs the back of his neck. “Right… Sorry, it feels like it’s been so long since I met an outsider. I forgot how terrifying it can be.” He clears his throat and rises from the bed. When he wanders to me, my eyes find that patch of red, webbed skin on his arm. He ignores my stare.
“You’re in the Shadow Sanctum. Those guys who were after you are called Keepers. They—”
“The Shadow Sanctum?” I back up until beads curve around my skull.
“It isn’t quite as ominous as it sounds.”
“What are you talking about? Why…” I shake my head, showing my palms. “Take me home. If you get me out of here right the fuck now, I won’t call the cops. Otherwise, I swear to God, I’ll—”
“There is no getting out of here.”
His words, spoken with such an even tone, make my hands fall, my feet itching to retreat. I don’t. Not yet.