Instead of drifting away, she was getting closer.

And, for the first time, he reached out to her and wrapped his fingers around her arm. He almost felt happy, that it was finally over, that he could move on and put Kate to rest. He smiled, taking her face into his hand and turning it to him.

But what he saw instead jolted him. He reeled back, his eyes wide open, his heart ramming harder inside his chest.

This didn’t make sense.

His brows came together, and a sick feeling swarmed his insides. The pain returned fiercer than before, tightening around his neck like a noose, until he was panting for breath.

It wasn’t blonde hair swaying in the waters.

It was black.

It wasn’t green eyes looking lifelessly up at him.

It was brown.

It wasn’t Kate dead, swaying in the bloody waters.

It was Emma.

No. No. No. No.

This wasn’t real. He told himself that over and over again, but he couldn’t look away from her. He couldn’t bring himself to believe this wasn’t reality. It felt like it. The pain was too real, too fresh.

Waking up was no longer the hardest part. It was the best.

*

Marcus opened his eyes, and immediately he looked around the dark room. He was covered in sweat and…arms. He grabbed at the arms and followed them to the tiny body curled against his side.

With a shaking hand, he pushed away the strands of hair over Emma’s face and stared at her. She was breathing. She was fine. She was…

He sat up and ran both of his hands over his hair. It had felt so real. He thought it was real. He buried his face in his palms and focused on his breathing. He took deep breaths, telling himself over and over again, that it was a fucking nightmare. Nothing more.

Yeah, there was nothing to be worried about.

All was okay.

He would protect her. He would never let his guard down.

He nodded to himself. “Yeah,” he whispered. He had this. The future was bright with her in it. It wasn’t a black and grey void. He didn’t feel only rage and pain.

He felt everything else too.

A buzzing sounded out, breaking him out of his thoughts.

His phone.

Someone was texting him at two in the morning, which meant there was a fucking emergency.

He quickly leaned over the edge of the bed and grabbed his jeans off the ground. Digging into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and swiped the screen. His eyes ran over the text and all his self-reassurances from one minute ago vanished into thin air.

I thought we made it clear never to bring another person close to you again. We’ll get her, Mr Borden, and you will never find me. You will only think you have. But I’m smoke. I scatter and disappear. You cannot find me.

End of Book One