The first thing I could feel was my head throbbing, deep and relentless. Something warm settled against my temple, rising and falling in a steady rhythm. A heartbeat. I couldn't it. My eyes fluttering shut again as I shifted closer, instinctively seeking comfort. Though the pain fulled, even just slightly, I stayed there, clinging to the warmth as if it were the only thing anchoring me to this world.
Then it came back.
Not all at once, but in fragments. Metal screaming against metal. Glass exploding. The weight of the gun in my palm. The way my lungs burned, hands reaching for me. The kick. The recoil. The blood pooling around my abdomen.
Him.
My body went rigid before my mind could stop it. I knew this chest. The warm, musky scent. This arm curved around me as if I had always belonged there. Alex.
The first thing I could feel was my head throbbing. Something warm settled against my head, like a heart beating. I couldn't help but close my eyes and snuggled in closer. The pain eased a little, even though it was still there, I kept staying close to it, drawing from the comfort.
I forced myself to breathe evenly, to let my weight go slack again. To stay still.
Because I knew that the moment I opened my eyes, the moment I let him see that I remembered, everything would collapse. There would be no gentle lies left to hide behind. No fragile peace. Only the truth, sharp and unforgiving, could cut through whatever remained of us.
So I stayed still.
I let my breathing even out, let my body go slack in his arms and surrendered to the memories, clawing their way back into my mind.
I remembered how we met. How he had crashed straight into one of the walking tours I was leading, all awkward apologies and crooked smiles, as if fate itself had tripped him into my path. I remembered the way he looked at me afterward, so sharp with intent. How he had practically begged me for a date until I laughed and finally gave in.
How there was no after, ever since. No separation between his life and mine. Our lives simply merged seamlessly, dangerously, until I no longer knew where I ended and he began.
I remembered the proposal. The wedding. The two lines on that test. The promises whispered like prayers.
I remembered how he told me he was a software engineer, moving to Croatia after selling his startup. How I never truly questioned the villa. The wedding. The car. Love had made me incurious, reckless and blind. It felt euphoric, like I was living at the peak of a high I never wanted to come down from.
It had all happened so fast. Too fast.
His arms tightened around me now, as if holding me this way could undo what we had both done. As if his grip alone could rewrite the past. His fingers brushed my hair back from my face, slow and deliberate, a touch that was almost reverent. Almost tender enough to hurt.
"I know you're awake," he murmured.
Just a fraction, hi hold on me tightened. A betrayal of the relief he hadn't meant to reveal.
But I stayed silent. I continued on pretending to be asleep, unaware.
"I know you don't remember everything yet," he continued softly, almost indulgently, as if this were a secret meant only for him. I forced myself not to stiffen at his words, not to give myself away. "But you will. And when you do, you'll understand."
His thumb traced slow circles against my arm, a gesture so intimate it made my chest ache. It reminded me of the old him, who I thought he was.
"I love you, Isla," he said, his voice reverent and steady, as if his love were a fact rather than a feeling. "I always have. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me most." He exhaled, a sound that trembled with something too close to devotion. "But I've done what I had to do."
There was a pause, measured and deliberate.
"I'm sorry for doing this to you," he murmured, almost tenderly. "But this is the only way I can keep you. The only way you can truly be mine."
The words lodged in my chest, sharp and suffocating.
My body betrayed me before my mind could catch up. My fingers twitched, my breath faltered. Slowly, carefully, I let my lashes flutter, as if consciousness were returning to me unwillingly.
The world swam back into focus in fragments. From the dim light, the unfamiliar space, the way his gaze sharpened the instant he realized I was waking.
"Isla," he whispered, hope and hunger entwined in my name.
Panic surged. I sucked in a breath, twisting away from him, scrambling backward. My heart pounded so violently as I put distance between us, like it was screaming.
His hands reached out instinctively, grasping at the air where I had only been just seconds ago.
The spell shattered.
Alex looked at me then, truly looked at me, and for once, those dark green eyes did not bother to disguise the ache inside them. His sadness was raw and unguarded. My lips parted, but no sound came. My fingers curled white-knuckled around the leather armrests as the world tilted into focus around me.
That was when I realized it. I wasn't in his car anymore.
No, we were on a plane.
"Where are you taking me?" I breathed, my hands clutching on the armrests, tight.
"To where it all began," he said, his lips curling at the side.
The low hum of the engines vibrated beneath my skin, carrying us forward into something I hadn't agreed to. Away from all the problems I hadn't solve. Away from everything I had known.
And in that moment of clarity, sharp as a blade, I finally understood.
This was not the love I had once known.
No, this was something darker. This was something more desperate.
It was possession dressed up as devotion. And I was already too far gone to pretend otherwise.