No.
Her mind screamed it. But she stayed silent.
He moved closer.
“It was too hard to retrieve you after they found you,” he said, as if explaining a late delivery. “Too many eyes. And I had a…complication, let’s say.”
His voice turned wistful. “There were other sweet little girls, but none like you, Faolan. I always remembered your face when I was with them.”
Her vision blurred. She thought she was going to pass out.
He sighed. “Thane won’t come for you. Just like last time. He’s far away. Busy. You think he’ll get here in time?”
Her heart pounded against her ribs.Thane, please. Please.
Footsteps approached the guest room.
She braced.
“After the boys escaped, you turned into a feral little thing, didn’t you?” he said. “Biting and kicking. Spitting out the meds. I didn’t know what to do with you anymore.”
He was right outside.
“That’s why you had to go in the basement,” he said, tone nostalgic. “But your brothers and that clever little foster dad of yours…they were a problem.”
The doorknob turned.
Faolan braced the taser in her shaking hands.
“Your foster father gave me a lot of trouble. Thought he could play hero.” A short laugh. “He nearly ruined everything. I had to leave the country for a while after that. Lay low. My name was tied to that damn building. They almost traced it back.”
“But I’ve always wanted to retrieve you,” he said, his voice closer. “I watched. Waited. But there were too many eyes… So I stayed away.”
Faolan trembled as the guest bedroom door creaked open.
He was in the room now. She could hear his breathing. Familiar.
“You know,” he said conversationally, “it might’ve been a good thing I had to leave. I ended up mentoring this boy. Just a little older than you were. Quiet. Clever. Very loyal.”
Cupboards opened. The bathroom door squeaked.
“He has a daughter. Beautiful girl. She looks just like you. Nine years old now. Just your age when I found you…”
The closet door flung open.
Faolan hushed her breath.
He didn’t grab her. He didn’t even step closer. He simply looked as she stared back in terror.
His face. That face was no longer blurred by drugs and trauma.
Calm. Older. Grey hair cropped short. Pale, almost white eyes that flicked over her with recognition, hunger, nostalgia.
He stepped back slowly and sat on the edge of the bed, just beyond reach. The gun was held loosely in his hands.
Click.
The safety on his gun engaged.
