Five minutes of near hyperventilation and fogged up windows reminded me I still sat in my car, staring at Jaxxon’s house like a stalker. I forced myself out the door and quietly closed it behind me. Halfway up the walkway, a bone-deep chill flooded my system, taking my breath away. The salad I’d wolfed down in record time swirled in my gut. I swallowed hard, managing to keep the sour bile from flooding my esophagus. I wasn’t ready to face Jaxxon—what had I been thinking? With the way I’d left him?

A stinging pressure burned behind my eyes and a constant pounding thundered against both temples.

No. You can’t do this! He deserves at least this. And so do I.

But not the way I’d originally intended to . . .

My well-intentioned guerilla-style revelation approach, constructed miles away in my bathroom, had lost its allure on the drive over, along with any logic I’d associated with it.

I had about thirty seconds to come up with something better, because for some insane reason, despite the onset of a panic attack I damn well deserved, my feet kept moving toward his front door.

I’m stronger than this. Woman-the-fuck-up!

Unable to hold back an absurd snicker, I stopped in front of his door. Jaxxon would have told me to breathe through this feeling—irony at its best.

I rested my hand over the chilled doorbell, touching my finger to the button softly, gingerly, as if waiting for it to scorch me.

I let out a long, unsteady breath and pressed the button.

As the door swung open, for the first time since I’d gotten off at Jaxx’s exit, I relaxed the smallest bit.

“Max,” I sighed before realizing I had interrupted him and Jaxxon. “Oh, God! I’m so sorry.” I stepped back off the porch. “I—I didn’t know you were here. I should have called. I can come back,” I gushed as he stepped outside and I backed another few steps away.

Don’t hug me, Max. I won’t be able to hold it together.

I retreated one more step now in the middle of Jaxxon’s walkway and lost the fight, because though I’d only met him once, I genuinely liked Jaxxon’s father. I forced myself to stay where I was and hold eye contact. “Can you please let Jaxxon know I stopped by? Again, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude.”

When Max held out a hand to me, all I could do was stare at it.

I chanced a glance up at him and managed a small smile. “It is nice to see you again.” I spun around, about to bolt back to my car and speed away.

“Du schaffst das, meine Kleine . . . Don’t give up on him yet.”

You can do it, my little one. That one phrase jerked me to a stop as if I’d stepped in wet concrete. Unable to take in a solid breath, the panting increased, and I shook my head at the fog rolling through my mind, trying desperately to clear it. By now, I knew what was coming . . .

The dark California sky morphed into a freezing Washington night twenty-five years ago.

Pain . . . too much.

Something crinkly, wet, and sticky molds to my stomach, my breasts, my thighs. Scratchy, hard wool cuts into the gaping wounds covering my face. So tight, suffocating. Too much pain.

A dog. Not far. Loud and muffled barking, right on top of me. So loud. Then silence. Glimpses of the blackest black is all I can see through my swollen eyelids.

Stop fighting. Let the darkness hold you.

Just make the pain stop.

I jolt awake, choking against a hard plastic mask secured to my face. Once again, I am strapped down. But I am . . . moving. Everything around me is bright, so bright.

Where is the monster?

Sterile white and brilliant reds swirl before me. The bright lights accost me, burn, blind . . .

In a moment of clarity, the flash of a clean-shaven face with golden-green eyes stares back at me. And a strong, warm voice speaks close to my ear.

“Valentina . . . ”

Safe. Knows my name.

“Bleib bei mir! Stay with me!”

In seconds, the man’s face blends with the other jumbled colors, but he is still beside me.

My brain . . . so heavy, like it’s swelling against my cranium.

A pinch I don’t have the energy to fight stings my arm and a wonderful, numbing sluggishness creeps through my body. The pain begins to die. The open wounds in my stomach, my legs, my breast, all numb now.

Sleep.

I’m ready to go . . .

“Valentina . . . Valentina, can you hear me?”

The voice is back . . . so calm.

“Keep talking to her, sir. She’s stirring. We got lucky. The plastic stuck to the wounds, practically stopped the bleeding. I don’t know how, but she’s alive. Keep her alert a little longer, if you can.”

A large hand gently rests on top of my head. Warm.

I fight to keep my eyes open.

Enough dark. So hard, though. Too . . . tired.

“Du schaffst das, meine Kleine,” the voice demands. “You can do it, my little one. You stay with me. We’ve got you now. You’re safe. Atme, Valentina. Breathe—in and out. Good girl.”

Safe. God heard me. Sent an angel.

“She’s stable, lieutenant. We can let her rest now.”

The hand stays on my head. A gentle finger wipes my cheek.

“Shhh, rest now, but you will stay here. You hear me, Valentina. I know you do. You don’t get to leave. You’re too young to dance with angels. I’ll keep you safe.”

When I give into the darkness this time, I’m not scared. The monster is gone. And an angel watches over me, demanding I stay with him, where it’s light. No more black. Safe.

It was so clear—every last vivid detail.

I twisted back around slowly and stared at the same man who’d told me not to leave once before. My entire torso concaved and a violent shaking racked my frame.

“You,” I cried, reaching for him. “It was you!”

He caught me before I fell and hugged me tight as I sobbed against his chest, unable to stop the vicious convulsions raging through me. My arms whipped around his waist reflexively and I clutched at the back of his jacket, trying to stay upright.

“Shh, honey.” His chin rested on top of my head.

“I—I,” I stammered against his wet shirt. Taking deep, fragmented breaths between sobs, I finally composed myself enough to pull back and look up at him.

His hands locked around my shoulders, helping me stay upright.

“It was you,” I wept, gripping his forearms. “How—how was it you?” My chin dropped to my chest as both a foreign sense of relief and a latent pain exploded through me. “It’s finally—finally all clear!” I stuttered. “I remember it all now—you, the ambulance, it was the missing part.”

My parents had moved as soon as I was healed enough to travel, leaving behind the attack and anything associated with it, including the officer who’d found me and stayed with me.

They told me about him, of course, but thought it best I didn’t meet him. I’d never been able to thank the man who’d saved my life. The man who’d kept me alive when all I’d wanted to do was let go. All I remembered about the attack before the nightmares and flashbacks had started was wanting to die, and strange phrases I didn’t remember knowing before the attack.

Now I knew why those distinct German phrases kept running through my head on and off, and I’d eventually been driven to look them up. In that moment, I was fourteen again, looking up at the man I’d thought an angel on the night I should have died.

“Lieutenant Regin . . . ” I shook my head up at him. “That’s all they would tell me.”

He cupped my cheek with a warm, comforting hand. “They’re parents who had lived out their worst nightmare. They allowed me to check on you while you were in the induced coma. I had a few meals at the hospital with them. Your parents are strong and loving people. We became relatively close over the months you were in the hospital.” He rested one hand on my shoulder and spoke in a calm voice, “The last time I saw your parents, before they moved to California, they said you didn’t remember anything. I was thankful. They knew what an impact your case had on me, so they allowed me to check on you from time to time. The last time I spoke with your father was about ten years ago and he said you still hadn’t remembered anything. So when did you start remembering?”

“Two years ago, but in fragments.”

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving mine. “It took this long . . . ” he said in a low and poignant voice.

“I never understood why they didn’t let me meet you.” My parents were good people. So I couldn’t make sense of why they’d keep me from meeting the man who saved me.

“Reminders. You didn’t remember anything about the attack or afterwards and they didn’t want to chance you being triggered. They wanted a new life for you.” He took a deep breath. “So did I. Your case . . . Your case, Valentina, was the one that led us to him. I led that team.”

All the air rushed from my lungs. “You’re the one who shot him,” I whispered.

You killed the monster.

“I am.”

I slammed into him again, hugging him so tight I couldn’t breathe. “Thank you,” I murmured into his shirt. “Thank you.” I was a broken record, but the words just kept spilling from my mouth.

“Don’t thank me, honey. Some people deserve killing.” His normally warm tone had turned to ice.

I found it comforting. And at last I settled. “Lieutenant Regin? Not Reginhardt?”

His warm smile came back and brightened his hazel eyes. Jaxxon’s eyes.

Max nodded. “Reginhardt got shortened to Regin at work. It’s a cop thing.”

I inhaled quick and glanced at the door behind him as I chewed on my bottom lip. He’d known it was me. Jesus! Max had recognized me. My eyes flew to his.

“I didn’t say much to Jaxxon,” he assured, and I exhaled. “It’s your life, your story. Who you trust with it is up to you.”

“I—I . . . thank you.” Nothing could have meant more to me. He’d known who I was the entire time and hadn’t said anything to his own son? A fresh round of tears flooded my eyes and I swiped at them. “I don’t normally cry, Max, but it’s been a rough month.”

He winked. “I’m guessing it’s been a rough few years with everything coming back to you now. Nothing wrong with tears now and then. There’s a time to be vulnerable and a time to trust.” He stared down at me and put a hand on my shoulder. “Tell my son.” Moving to my side, he dug his keys out of his pocket before meeting my gaze once again. “He’s a stubborn ass, but he loves you.”

I hugged Max one last time, so grateful I could at last thank him. There was so much I felt like I needed to say—tell him he anchored me to life. But I think he knew. “I came here to tell him, but I think I might be too late.” I glanced at Jaxxon’s open door. “I’m not a coward, Max, but I was the last time I saw Jaxxon. I ran when I should have trusted him.” I squeezed him one last time and pulled away.

He grabbed my hands. “I’ve never met someone as young as you were, having endured what you did, with such a strong will to live—

“Because of you! You kept me alive. Kept me here,” I insisted. “It was you.”

“No. The will to live can only come from within. The same with courage. You’re allowed to make mistakes, honey. You’re human. Being brave enough to fix them, that’s true strength.” Motioning to the front door, he nodded to me. “Compared to what you’ve been through, this is easy. Jaxxon may be an ass at times, but he’s reasonable, and he loves you. Now go, meine Kleine—atme, Valentina.”

“What do I tell him?” I asked. “Isn’t he going to wonder where you are?”

At that, he laughed. “I think he’d much rather you walk back into that house than me. Goodbye, honey.”

“Max!” Now that I’d met him, knew him, I didn’t want to lose him. Jaxxon could justifiably throw me the hell out of his house in the next few minutes. I rubbed my chest, unable to stop the pressure building. Now was the time. I was as close to ready as I was going to get, but if it went south, I didn’t want to lose the man who’d helped save me.

“For now, Valentina. Goodbye for now. Get it out. Once and for all. Time to let go.”

I nodded and turned away from the man who kept me alive so long ago to face the one who’d given me life twenty-five years later.