Chapter 23
Silas carried Rue back to the hotel, her forehead still slick with cold sweat as he laid her gently on the bed. He wrung out a warm towel and dabbed her pale cheeks, his hands trembling.
“Rue, wake up…”
He whispered, his voice tight, until her lashes fluttered. Her gaze slowly focused on the furrow in his brow.
She sat up slowly, bracing herself on the mattress. Her voice was dry and raspy. “Why am I back at the hotel?”
“You passed out at the wedding. The memory trigger was too strong.”
He handed her a glass of water, his voice firmer than usual. “We’re leaving tomorrow. You need to stop digging into this.”
Rue looked down, but her tone didn’t waver. “No. I remembered more this time. I can’t stop now.”
“And what if it breaks you?!”
Silas’s voice cracked, frustration bleeding through. He’d watched her collapse once already, completely helpless to do anything.
“If remembering only brings you pain, then I’d rather you forget it all forever!”
“But it matters to me!”
She yanked her hand from his, eyes glistening with tears. Ever since she woke up in this body, the question had haunted her. Who was she? Why was she here?
Silas swallowed hard, his shoulders dropping. “Fine. But if it happens again—if you pass out again—we’re done. I’m taking you home.”
Rue’s voice softened. “I promise. Don’t worry about me so much, Dr. Silas. I’m not a kid.”
He looked away, the tips of his ears flushed. “Okay.”
—
The next morning, as Rue pushed open the hotel door, she ran straight into Julian Carter.
He looked like hell. His suit was wrinkled, his face drawn, dark circles blooming under his eyes.
“Miss Rue,” he said hoarsely. “You’re trying to get your memories back, right?”
He straightened. “I have something that might help.”
Silas stepped in from behind, instantly positioning himself between them.
“Why the hell should we trust you?”
Julian ignored him completely, his eyes locked on Rue. “Isla Monroe’s last letter. I brought it.”
Rue’s eyes widened. The words hit her like a punch to the gut.
She gently moved Silas’s hand off her arm. “Alright. I’ll go with you.”
“Rue, don’t—”
“Silas.”
She looked up at him, gaze clear and resolute. “You promised.”
Silas clenched his jaw but gave in. “I’m coming with you.”
They followed Julian to a secluded house he’d purchased near North Bay. The villa smelled faintly of dried lilies. At the entrance, two pairs of slippers sat neatly beside a doormat. On the table, a single bowl of soup sat untouched.
Julian ran a hand across a dusty picture frame. His voice cracked. “Everything in here is exactly the way she left it.”
Rue brushed her fingers across the edge of the couch. The texture stirred something inside her. Her temples throbbed.
“Where’s the letter?”
Silas cut in sharply.
Julian opened a safe and pulled out a yellowed envelope. He ran his thumb across the faded words: “To Julian.”
“This… this was the last thing she ever gave me.”
As Rue took the envelope, her heart thudded against her ribcage.
“Julian, if you’re reading this, then I’m probably already gone.”
The handwriting was delicate but searing. Memories surged forward like a tsunami—wedding vows, videos in her inbox, a cold countdown to death.
She stumbled against the coffee table, soaked in cold sweat.
“Rue!”
Silas caught her, panic flooding his face.
“I never regretted staying with you—not even if the cost was death.”
Rue clutched the letter tightly, tears dripping down and smearing the ink.
The emotions came crashing in—love, fury, devastation. All of it twisted into a suffocating knot, wrapping around her throat like a noose.
