They arrived at the elevator, their next obstacle since it was the only way out of the underground. Lyall moved to tear the doors open like a pair of window shutters, but Rowan stopped him.

“I might be able to override the lockdown. Let me try first.” She wasn’t suppose to know about these details of the security system, but Cameron had a big mouth. With a key card that had high enough access, it was possible to use it and an emergency code to get things working again. And she still had Phelps’.

She scanned the card and tried a few different codes, her fingers shaking with panic and adrenaline. She glanced over her shoulder every now and then, even though she knew none of the doctors would take the risk to try and stop them. This likely meant though, that if they were stopped, it would be once they reached the upper floor, after reinforcements were sent for.

Lyall, who seemed less concerned about being interrupted, leaned his shoulder against the wall next to her to wait casually. Something resembling amusement played in his eyes as he watched her fiddle with the touchpad.

“If you can’t slow your heart a little, I’ll have to do it for you.”

Suddenly aware of the painful pounding in her chest, Rowan lifted her gaze to see his fall to the line of her neck. She scowled slightly, pulling her hair over her shoulder and turning back to her work.

“You can’t, yet. There’s the antiviral in my blood.”

She realized immediately what she said, flushing as the look in Lyall’s eyes spread into a wolfish grin in her peripherals.

“Yet?” He pushed off the wall, and she tried to ignore him as he leaned towards her to whisper, “Does that mean the offer stands later?”

Rowan pretended to not be bothered, but goosebumps flared over her skin at the touch of his breath on her ear. She wanted to taunt back, to indulge finally in the fact that they were alone again, without an audience, and without a wall between them. They didn’t have time for his particular form of pleasantries, though. The touchpad chimed as she landed on the correct set of numbers, recalled from the back corners of her memory, and she snaked away from him, entering the now opened elevator.

“Cameron is waiting, but… They’re going to be waiting for us up there also, so… I don’t know how you want to do this.” Rowan warned, the doors closing behind them, silencing the ambient wailing of the alarm.

“I can kill them all without a problem.” Lyall tested, his lips curled at the end.

“I don’t think that’s the best solution.” She glared, stepping forward to scan her keycard. “Where should we go after this?”

Behind her, Lyall sighed, sounding sour that she ruined the fun. He leaned back against the far wall of the elevator, staying silent until Rowan purposefully caught his gaze.

“We’re not going anywhere, Rowan.”

She frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

Rowan watched him, his expression forced from disappointed to cold. His blue eyes like ice now, he said, “I mean, you and I, we’re not going anywhere. This ends here.”

Her eyebrows sunk further down, her chest beginning to tighten but refusing to accept the panic setting in. “I don’t understand.” She did though. She just didn’t want to.

Lyall seemed to soften. “What did you think was going to happen?” The question was sharp, but its intent was genuine.

When Rowan tried to answer it though, her mouth came up empty and dry. She had no idea what she thought. She didn’t think that far, considering this whole thing had just been a dark, illogical desire sprouted from the shadows of her heart. There was no after-plan, but she definitely hadn’t expected it to end like this.

Or perhaps she had, and simply refused to acknowledge that the only thing left for Lyall to do after escaping was to disappear. Maybe Rowan thought she would disappear with him. Maybe it was why she didn’t care about the consequences she would have to face for helping him.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, feeling her throat constrict as the pain stung at her nose. Her eyes threatened tears, but she fought them back as hard as she could.

“It can’t be any other way.” Even though he was right, something about the way he said it was bitter. She tasted the flavor in her mouth, sharp like the smell of the blood, and it made her feel ill.

Rowan gnawed hard at her lip as she nodded, fending off her crumbling heart. “What should I do then? After this.”

Lyall stayed silent for a brief moment as he thought, then pushed off from the wall and approached her and the touchpad. He reached around her to select the ground floor, and the elevator came to life.

“When I tell you, you’re going to close your eyes, and before you open them again, I’ll be gone. It will be like I was never even here. They’ll find you alone, and you’ll answer the questions they’ll have for you. You’ll tell them you had no choice but to help me, I threatened to kill you if you didn’t, you were just trying to stay alive. You’ll tell them I manipulated you this whole time, because that’s what I did. You were nothing but a tool to me. I was using you this whole time. Do you understand, Rowan?”

Rowan gasped, the tears brimming her eyes now, but she refused to let them fall. She swallowed down the lump in her throat, shaking off her reluctance, and nodded. She didn’t want to agree with him, because agreeing meant letting go. She understood what she had to do, though. She had to play her part just as he did all this time. She had to pretend to not care, pretend to be a victim, so perhaps she wouldn’t have to feel the pain of the truth.

“Are you angry?” he asked.

Rowan was sad, upset, hopeless. She was anything but angry. Anger was what she had to feel, though. Anger was what would help her forget him. So she thought about all the things she had done for him. She thought about how she’d risked her career, her life, her friendships, how she’d given herself to him in every sense of the word. She thought about how she’d considered herself special, and how naive she had been, how she’d been ready to be a monster for him, and how he was leaving her with that darkness.

“Yes,” she said finally, gritting her teeth to feel the frustration in her bones. She stifled the part of her that knew the truth, down into her gut with her monstrousness, and repeated the story to herself. He lied, deceived, manipulated. None of it was real. He used her, all this time, he had just used her.

“Good,” he said, another bitter note on his tongue. “Now close your eyes.”

Rowan did as she was told, shutting them tight. She felt him step closer to her, not quite touching but able to feel the warmth of his body. She resisted reaching out, her fingers twitching at her sides. The elevator slowed, and she felt a sigh pass her lips that was not her own. A chime sounded to signal they arrived on the ground floor, and as the doors opened, suddenly it was quiet and cold.

Rowan opened her watering eyes and put her hands up in surrender, alone in front of a mass of armed gunmen.

The suited men escorted her down a long hall to a windowless room, where Miller waited inside. Although no one was in handcuffs or restrained, the whole ordeal felt like detainment. Rowan wondered if she had her right to a lawyer, but decided against asking. It didn’t matter anyway, she had her story, it was already leaking doubt into her bones.

They asked a series of questions, and she answered while staring straight ahead, unfocused and barely there. She told them Lyall manipulated her into caring for him, used her to help him escape. He promised not to kill her as long as she cooperated and threatened to harm everyone if she rebelled. She told them she didn’t know where he went. Rowan played the victim better than she expected, perhaps because a part of her was starting to wonder what really was the truth and what was a lie.

Miller stared at her the entire time over her rimless lenses. She worried briefly that the woman would call her on her lies somehow, that she would pull out evidence of Rowan’s dedication to Lyall. How would Miller prove such a thing though, if Rowan herself wasn’t even sure anymore what had been her own actions and what had been Lyall’s influence. What had been real, and what was just fantasy.

Despite her concerns, Miller never interrupted, never spoke a word. When the suited men finished questioning her, the woman simply nodded and left the room along with them.

Cameron was just outside waiting, also detained by the suited men. They were both put into protective custody, which meant house arrest, so the suited men drove them to Rowan’s tiny bungalow, where they were told they would stay for the rest of the night. Out on the curb, the men set up their lookout from inside their car, to either make sure Rowan and Cameron didn’t take off, or to keep a watchful eye for a visitor.

Their effort was futile. If he was smart, Lyall would be long gone now and wouldn’t be returning.

It was when they were inside, the door closed, the bolt locked, that Rowan could breathe. She inhaled shakily, and the feeling in her limbs came back, the crushing pain of everything hitting her in the chest and suffocating her all over again. She didn’t make a sound, but the sobs wracked her body hard, and Cameron caught her as her legs gave out.

He held her to his chest and rocked her for what felt like eternity, until the sun went down, and the sobs stopped, and she went numb again. Then, he led her upstairs to the bathroom, ran a hot shower for her, and left her alone to wash away the stains of the day.

Rowan turned the lights off and lit some candles, hoping the honey and cinnamon would bring back comforting memories of her mother’s hair and sunny summers rather than the current emptiness she felt. She shed her clothes slow and deliberate, letting them fall to the floor in a dirty, blood-stained pile. Her t-shirt stuck to her, and she had to peel it away from her flesh like a second skin. Her blood-soaked hair tangled and matted together, and her face was still painted in red; she looked like a victim, and she was beginning to feel like one.

Rowan considered herself a strong person, someone who knew what she wanted and how to get it. She didn’t see herself as someone susceptible to lies and manipulation, but Miller pulled the wool over her eyes for longer than she was proud of, so couldn’t it mean that Lyall was capable of doing the same?

The more she considered, wondered on the details of what happened, the more she started questioning every moment.

Things she thought had been her own actions, she started wondering if she was somehow convinced to behave and feel the way she had. The things she said, felt, had they just been her own creations? The moments where they shared something close to tenderness, were they just fantasy, hopeful wishes, her mind bending the truth to help her face the necessity of brushing shoulders with a monster every day?

Lyall had proven from the start that he was capable of controlling her. He did so with fear at first, but had he decided to switch his tactics midway? Had her dark thoughts about helping him escape been planted there somewhere along the lines? He certainly lured her with the idea enough times. Was this just his plan, all this time? For how long? The sympathy she felt, the infatuation, the affection, where had it started? Was any of it true?

She stepped under the shower, the water at her feet turning red. Still feeling numb, Rowan blasted the heat until it scalded her, then let the beating droplets pound her skin raw. She forced her face under the burning bullets of water, scrubbing away the last bit of the bloody brands he’d left on her. The water washed away all the dirt and blood and tears, but there was no way for it to get into her skull and rinse away her doubts.

Maybe none of it was real. Maybe she really had just been infatuated, like she knew Miller thought. It didn’t change anything. He was gone, and he wasn’t coming back. Maybe it was easier, to accept that it had all been a ruse. That he’d never cared. That he used her. This, a pool of anger in her gut, hurt less than the thought that he’d left her behind.

She’d hoped entering the cool air after leaving the hot, steamy bathroom would be refreshing, but instead, it settled as a heavy chill in her bones. She forced herself to ignore it, pushing through, and discarded her bloody clothes in the laundry bin. She threw on her oversized, university tee over a pair of boyshorts, the worn cotton offering some much-needed comfort, but she longed for more.

She returned downstairs, and Cameron was set up at the living room table with a box of pizza. When she gave him a curious expression, he smiled sheepishly. “I told the suits if they were gonna keep us locked up, they would have to feed us, so they ordered takeout.”

Rowan managed a tiny laugh, sitting down and looking over her selection. Cameron flicked on a movie, then grabbed a cheesy slice as he flopped down next to her.

They ate in a comfortable silence for a while, commenting on the film and the food, Cameron teasing when Rowan hogged all the garlic bread. The relaxed feeling dissipated after a while, though. It always did. Food and a movie was how Cameron got Rowan talking.

Usually, Rowan was a willing participant in their serious conversation, but this time, a part wished there was a way to just wipe it all from her brain and pretend none of it happened. She didn’t want to think about all the things she said, last time they were together on this couch. It mortified her.

“So...” Cameron initiated the conversation delicately, staring down at his food with his question. “He’s gone?”

Rowan had already stopped eating, playing with a pizza crust as she nodded. “Yeah. He’s gone.”

Cameron hummed. “You sure he’s not coming back?”

“He’d be stupid to,” she replied, swallowing down the ache the answer left in her throat. After a moment, she added bitterly, “Besides, what would he come back for?”

Shrugging, he continued. “I dunno. From what you said…”

Rowan couldn’t stand to hear it, so she interrupted, her voice going a fraction sharper even though she didn’t mean for it. “Well, I was wrong. He used me. I was just… A way out. What I thought wasn’t… Nothing was real.”

It didn’t matter what she said before. It didn’t matter that he told her secrets, shared vulnerable parts of himself with her, had tangled his fingers with hers for a brief moment through the darkness. It didn’t matter that she secretly gave herself to him. It was a lie. It had to be a lie. Because if it wasn’t...

“It’s okay if you cared about him, Row,” Cameron commented, triggering a flush on her cheeks, red and hot from shame and embarrassment. He had tricked her into caring, though. That was all. Her feelings, they were based on lies. This pain in her chest. It couldn’t be real. Like Cameron heard her inner struggle, he added, “Just because some things weren’t true, doesn’t make your emotions any less real.”

His words were gentle but stabbed at her regardless. She tried to nod through the pain, but she couldn’t fight the emotions as they welled in her throat and filled her eyes with tears. Rowan shifted closer to Cameron, and buried herself in his collar when he reached out for her, pulling her into a messy hug and kissing her wet hair.

“I don’t know what I was thinking would happen. I’m so stupid…”

Cameron shook his head. “You’re not stupid. You’re human.”

That was an ironic comment. She let a bitter scoff leave her lips, pushing deeper into his comfort before muttering, “Maybe being human isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

After all, it was certainly the only reason she was still there, crying, hurting, sulking. Maybe if she’d just accepted Lyall’s offer to be like him… If she had just said yes…

“Don’t say that,” Cameron scolded, nudging his nose into her hair, faux pouting against her temple. “If you weren’t so human, you wouldn’t be Rowan. And I like her. I’d miss her a hell of a lot if she went somewhere.”

She felt her forehead contort, before giving a defeated breath and nodding to his shirt. “I’d miss you, too.”

She felt him smile and hug her closer. “I guess that just means you gotta stay here and be human with me. I know it’s kinda lame sometimes, but I’ll get you through the boring parts.”

Her pained smile turned into a tiny laugh as she sighed and deflated in his arms. “Thank you, Cameron.”

They laid on the couch and finished the movie, Rowan tucked under Cameron’s arm, feeling safe for the first time in what seemed like forever. They stayed there for a long time, actually, well after the movie stopped playing and a silence engulfed the room. They laid together until Cameron’s hand, rubbing over her shoulder comfortingly, stilled eventually, and his breathing became shallow and slow.

Rowan considered waking him, but she knew his day had been hard as well and thought it best to let him rest. She stood carefully and retrieved a quilt off the back of her living room armchair, laying it over him gently before shutting off the lights and returning upstairs. She should probably try to get some sleep herself. If her thoughts would let her, at least.

With evening approaching, the natural light flooded her room in fiery red and orange, casting warmth across her bare skin as she moved to shut her curtains. While she did, she checked on the suited men below, still in their car on the road outside. Annoyed, she shut the thick fabric forcefully to block them out, but then peeked back through, unable to resist spying on them. They did nothing, just sitting and watching, and Rowan scowled to herself, frustrated she needed babysitting.

She was the last one who wanted it to be true, but Lyall was gone. None of them would ever see him again. That was how he wanted it. That was the smart thing to do. He was a predator, and predators followed their instincts, not their hearts.

“You boys are wasting your time,” Rowan muttered under her breath, although the words felt more like they were for her own sake. A reminder to get him out of her head. She gnawed at her lip, closing the blinds and scolding herself. “Stupid mouse.”

“That’s my line.”