Page 71 of Sanctuary

“If you don’t believe in lost causes, then why volunteer to do this?”

“Because it needs to be done.”

“Not by you. No one was expecting you to jump in. Del isn’t wrong about how risky it is. You’re not the sacrificial type.”

“No,” he agrees. “I’ve never believed in sacrifice. But I do believe in balancing the scales.”

My heart is hammering. I’m washed with a cold dread. I reach up to put a hand on his chest, desperately needing to touch him, feel that he’s alive. “Balancing the scales?”

“Yes.” He very gently removes my hand from his chest. Holds it in his for a few seconds before he lets it go. “I was wrong. I did wrong. A lot of it. Too much. And even when I thought I could do better, I did that wrong to you. I can’t…”

His voice doesn’t exactly break, but it cracks just slightly.

“You can’t what, Aidan?” I’m scared for no reason I understand.

“I can’t let that wrong be my final word. I can’t let it be my answer. So I’m going to do this. I’m going to do something good to answer everything else I’ve done.”

“Aidan,” I whisper.

He looks so tired. Exhausted. Battered. “You don’t have to worry, Breanna. I know what it’s going to take for you to do this. To go inside there after what they did to you. But I promise you’ll be safe in there with me. I won’t let any of them touch you.”

I’m moved by the declaration despite myself. “I appreciate that, but it’s not really what I was worried about just now. You seem… I don’t know… you seem…”

“I’m me. I’m still me. And I know I’ll never be the good guy.” He leans down and kisses me very softly. Brief and light and so incredibly soft. Then he pulls away before I can react. “But I’ll be damned if I let myself bethis.”

11

At midmorning the following day,Aidan and I are ushered in through the gates of the old hotel.

It’s easier than I dared to hope.

We leave the mall early in the morning and travel on our own, Aidan pushing his cart and me trailing behind with my hands bound. It’s not the most convenient or comfortable way to travel, but we need to solidify our cover in case anyone witnesses our approach.

When we draw near to the hotel, we run into a few small groups coming and going. They don’t flag us as suspicious, so they neither stop nor question us.

We make it to the gate. One of the men on guard recognizes Aidan and lets him in with a couple of casual inquiries about what he’s doing here and who I am.

Then we’re inside the wall.

The hotel is made up of one large main building—four stories and designed like a mountain lodge—and a collection of surrounding cottages that clearly used to be rented out as private suites when the hotel was in use. The cottages are mostly fallingapart now and appear to be used primarily for storage. The main building, however, was well built and remains in good condition.

There are quite a few people milling around in the courtyard, small groups hanging out smoking and a couple of bedraggled women picking up trash.

All morning, I’ve been operating mostly on adrenaline, wired, oddly detached, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other rather than imagining what we’ll face at the hotel. But as soon as I take one step inside the wall, reality tightens into a nauseating ball in my gut. It sits there, weighing me down, distracting me from what I need to do.

I might have been one of those women—used and abused into brittle shells. I came so close.

It’s funny how you think that you’re over things. That you’re past them. That you’ve funneled them neatly into a dark compartment of your mind where they can no longer cause trouble.

All this time, I’ve believed I conquered the trauma. That it can no longer control me.

But now I’m sick—physically ill—as it overwhelms me again.

Aidan knows. He must know because he pulls me closer. In a pose of keeping full control over my body, he manages to put a supportive hand on my back.

It helps but not enough.

I’m trembling. Sweating. Breathing deeply as I will myself not to throw up.

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