Run To Me (Lazarus Rising #4)(52)

“Kept her safe?” Jay demanded. “Or made her spend her entire life hiding from the world?”

The machines beeped faster. “Y-you were trained.” A smile came and went on Wyman’s face. “So s-strong. M-made sure. Y-you could always p-protect y-yourself.” But his eyelids flickered. “W-we d-don’t s-see some threats…”

Now Jay stepped forward. His feet padded across the floor. “What threat? What happened to Willow? You said you couldn’t let her go. That means—she was hurt, wasn’t she?” Now rage was definitely cracking in his words. “Who hurt her?”

Wyman’s breath wheezed in and out. “The ones…closest…h-hurt the most.”

She didn’t know what that meant. Not exactly, but… “I’ve seen a man.” She licked lips gone dry. “He tells me that we belong together. But something is wrong. I don’t—I think I’m afraid of him.”

Beside her, she felt Jay tense.

Wyman’s eyes closed. For a moment, she thought the guy had just—what? Gone to sleep? Shut her out?

But he gave a long sigh. With his eyes still closed, he said, “I t-tried to p-protect you…” Each word sounded like a struggle. “I m-made the m-monster.”

Now she was the one to stiffen. Willow took a quick step back, as if she’d just been hit. He’d called her a monster. The man who’d just said he was her father. Monster. But she’d known that, hadn’t she? She’d known—

Warm, strong hands caught her shoulders. Jay turned her toward him. She found herself staring into his eyes. “You are perfect,” he said.

Her chest burned.

“You’re not some fucking monster. You never will be. You’re listening to a megalomaniac who tried to create his own army of super soldiers. Don’t let anything the prick says get beneath your skin, you understand me?”

But it was Wyman who spoke. “N-not…my W-Willow…”

Jay whirled toward the bed. “She isn’t yours.”

Wyman struggled to sit up in the bed. As Willow watched him, the coppery scent of blood reached her, and then she saw a red bloom appear on the white bed covers. Instinctively, she rushed toward him. “Don’t! You’re hurting yourself!”

Wyman caught her hand. Held tight in a grip of surprising strength. “He’s the m-monster…I m-made…” He pulled her hand toward his face. “S-so sorry…”

The door flew open. “What’s happening now?” Elizabeth cried out.

Wyman was shuddering and bleeding, and Willow found that she was holding him as tightly as he held her.

“S-see my f-fear…” Wyman whispered. His grip was loosening. Hers wasn’t. “See…”

And she did. She wasn’t even sure if she tried to see it or if it just happened. But the hospital room vanished. The bed vanished. Jay and Sawyer and Elizabeth all vanished.

She was suddenly in a motel room. One with threadbare carpet. With cracks that cut across the ceiling. The salty scent of an ocean drifted to her.

She was staring up at that ceiling because she was lying on the threadbare carpet. Willow felt herself struggling to breathe. She lifted her hands and could see the blood on them. Her blood.

Her body was so cold.

Wood cracked. Her head managed to turn and she saw the thin motel room door come flying open. Wyman stood in the doorway. A different Wyman. Strong. Wearing a dark suit, but with his eyes blazing. He saw her on the floor, and all of the color drained from his face. “Willow!”

Then he was rushing toward her. Falling to his knees at her side. His hands reached out, not to hold her, but to press against her wounds. She had so many wounds. There were other men behind him. One guy in glasses. Armed soldiers.

His guards. He always traveled with guards. The only time he was without them—that was when they slipped away. Just her and Wyman.

She wanted to slip away. To go back, maybe to the little cabin they’d sometimes stay in when they wanted a holiday together. No one else around, no one to see, no one to know who they were.

“I’m going to kill him,” Wyman promised her. His words were so angry and cold, and she knew he was speaking the truth. He didn’t lie. At least, not to her. He’d once promised never to lie to her.

“I made him,” Wyman continued darkly, “and I’ll end him.”

She wanted to talk, wanted to tell him so much, but Willow couldn’t speak. And everything seemed to be getting darker.

“No!” Grief tore through the anger that had been in Wyman’s words. “Don’t you do it, baby! Don’t!” And suddenly, he wasn’t pressing on her wounds. He’d yanked her up against him. He was holding her so tightly, rocking her back and forth, and she could have sworn that she felt wetness on her cheek.

His tears?

“I can’t lose you!” He held her tighter. “You’re the only good thing in my life. The only thing I did right. I won’t lose you, baby! You’re too young. You’ve got too much living left.” He was still rocking her. She wished she could hug him back. “You’re going to get married. Going to have a family. Going to have those big Christmases like you always wanted. You’re going to walk on the beach. God, baby, you love the beach. You’re going to hike and eat your chocolate and laugh and you’re going to—Willow?”