Chapter 2 Seven Years Ago

Emília Gray 

"They say he killed the kidnapper."

"My parents said he tricked him and crushed his skull with a hammer."

"A hammer?!"

"Yes, a hammer!"

One of the boys sighed and glanced quickly around the park.

"That’s scary!" he whispered to me. "Don’t go near him, Emília."

I rolled my eyes and stuck out my tongue.

I didn’t even know the name of the boy talking to me, except that he liked my best friend, Kayleen. But his words stuck in my mind. Actually, not just his. Almost the entire town talked about the orphan boy who had escaped a kidnapping along with four others.

No one really knew what had happened, except the local police and, of course, Francis Torman, the lead investigator on all the city’s cases, especially the disappearances.

Of course I was curious, but the fear of not being able to sleep at night kept me from asking questions or listening to my friends’ dramatic stories.

Still, my eyes never left him.

His hair, dark as oil, his pale skin, his torn clothes, yet still clean and surely smelling good. His distant gaze, but without the worry of finding somewhere to belong.

Dante Faulkner was his name, and the first thing I wanted to know about him.

It was strange how I constantly dreamed about him. I felt embarrassed when I stole my mother’s perfume just to smell nice on the days I knew Dante would be at the park. I would fix my curls for hours so they would stay defined, at least for as long as he remained there. And I prayed it wouldn’t rain. I wanted to look prettier, to seem older, even though I was thirteen. He was fifteen.

Ah, that was one more thing I knew about Faulkner.

He was two years older than me.

"Kayleen, come here," I called, stepping away from the swing. My best friend looked at me for a few seconds, said goodbye to the annoying boy, and followed me.

"What is it?"

"Do you believe him?"

She crossed her arms.

"You don’t?" I shrugged. "For God’s sake, Lia. Don’t tell me you’re interested."

"Curious," I corrected, and Kayleen sighed. "Please. Don’t you feel sorry for him when you see him alone?"

"No."

"You’re heartless."

"No, Lia. I just protect myself from people who might be violent," she replied dryly. "He wants to be alone. That’s different. Daniel already tried talking to him and came out crying. Miss Karen quit the orphanage because she couldn’t stand being around him for another second. Even the police are afraid to be in the same room as that boy. Why do you think he’s the only one with a room to himself?"

"Those are just rumors. No one proved if it’s true or not," I said, looking at Dante again as he kept entertaining himself by shooting basketballs. He didn’t miss a single shot.

Well, after all, I didn’t know so little about him.

Dante was very good at sports too.

"You don’t need proof to avoid doing something. I’ve never seen anyone around me die from drinking cow urine, but I know it could happen. That’s why I’m not going to drink it, you idiot."

"Ugh, that’s disgusting!"

"That’s the face you should make when you see Dante."

I rolled my eyes.

Even though Kayleen was right, I didn’t want to accept it.

Better safe than sorry. But why would someone who had escaped a kidnapping, something we didn’t even fully understand, be aggressive?

That thought occupied my mind.

On the way home, I only thought about him, like always. For three months, there had been nothing else my brain entertained itself with.

It was Dante, Dante, Dante and Dante…

Who exactly was he, and why did nothing make sense?

When I looked up, I noticed a shadow walking a few meters away. Confused, I blinked, but the figure took shape.

"Dante!"

I immediately covered my mouth when I realized it had slipped out and tried to hide among the bushes.

Faulkner turned his head slightly, narrowing his eyes when he noticed there was no one on the street.

He quickly continued on his path, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning the corner.

Why was he outside alone? The orphanage wasn’t in that direction.

That sparked my curiosity.

I didn’t think twice and decided to follow him. Dante had entered a tree-lined path where it was hard to see the sides. But I didn’t care. I was more concerned with finding out what he was up to.

Even without seeing him, I followed the sound of his steps. His boots crushed the fallen leaves, which helped me keep track of him. Until the sound started to fade. I quickened my pace, but Dante knew that place better, so he moved with more agility through turns, slopes, and before I realized it, I couldn’t hear him anymore.

The path had turned into a maze of trees, and I was the only body among them.

Shit.

I hated swearing because my parents would get really upset, but the panic that rooted itself in my veins the moment I realized I didn’t know where I was made my brain install a foul vocabulary.

How was I going to get out?

I tried to go back, clinging to the footprints I might have left. My memory was terrible, but I tried to remember if I had seen that tree before, if I had stepped on that branch or passed under that limb. Still, I felt like I was getting farther away.

My eyes started to burn, and before I realized it, tears were blurring my vision. My breathing faltered at the same time.

I still didn’t have a phone. All my classmates had one, except me, who had to ask Kayleen to call my parents if I needed anything. But she wasn’t with me. I had decided to leave early because I couldn’t stand Daniel anymore.

And now I was lost. Completely in trouble.

I couldn’t hold it in and cried, curling up near a tree. I didn’t care if my pink dress got dirty or if my hair had turned into a bird’s nest.

I wanted to go home.

I wanted to get out of there.

My obsession with Dante had led me to hell. And he would probably know I had been following him. It was obvious. He had done it on purpose.

Maybe he was bad, like everyone said.

Cruel, violent, and a killer.

Suddenly, I heard the leaves rustle.

I lifted my head from between my arms and legs and saw Dante sitting beside me.

My bones trembled, and I scooted away, putting distance between us.

I could barely breathe, pressing my lips together and scratching my skin with my nails.

What was he doing?

"Have you stopped crying?" he said, with a hint of humor and concern. A mix that made my eyes widen as I admired the huskiness in his voice, even though he was only fifteen.

"Your voice…"

His eyebrows lifted.

"What about it?"

I shook my head.

"Nothing. I just didn’t imagine it like that," I said, pressing my knees tighter against my chest.

He smiled slightly. The corner of his mouth lifted, his cheek rounding.

"You imagine my voice?"

Like water, blood rushed to my face.

"Yes." His smile widened. "I mean, no."

"Liar."

"Don’t call me a liar!" I stammered. "I don’t lie."

"You just don’t tell the truth. Seems like that’s not your strong suit."

He seemed amused by the fact that all I could do was lower my head and fidget with my fingers in embarrassment.

"Look at me, girl."

I swallowed hard as I lifted my chin and met his dark orbs.

"I have a name."

The amusement didn’t leave his gaze.

"I know your name. Emília Gray."

His whisper drifted along with the autumn leaves.

He knew my name.

Dante already knew me.

"If you know it, then don’t call me girl. It’s rude."

"You’re not in a position to ask for manners when you were shouting my name and following me."

I wrinkled my nose.

"It was an accident," I stammered, looking back at the dry leaves on the ground.

"You were following me by accident?" he asked, still amused. "Imagine if it wasn’t. What would you do? Climb on my back?"

It was impossible not to notice how Faulkner carried confidence in his gestures, in his voice, in his gaze.

It was strangely attractive.

"What are you going to do now? Kill me?"

The words slipped out before I could stop them. Dante studied me and closed the distance between us by a few inches.

I held my breath as his face blocked my peripheral vision.

All I could see were his beautiful eyes, his thin pink lips, and the strands of hair falling over his forehead.

"Do you want me to kill you?"

The wind rustled through the leaves.

My skin prickled, and I felt the cold unravel through my veins.

It took a moment before my answer came out.

For some reason, I was more tempted to admire his irises than to worry about my own life.

Dante had that magnetism. He exiled my reason and made me believe that only he could explain things.

"No."

He exhaled through his nose and stepped back, getting up in a quick motion.

Faulkner extended his hand and spoke softly. I admired how small I was compared to the magnitude Dante carried and seemed to consume from the rest of the world.

"Good. Because I want to keep you alive."

I took his hand and stood up.

I didn’t think much about his answer, too distracted by how warm my body felt and how my hands were sweating as they remained intertwined.

He led me out of the forest and walked me home.

Everything in silence. No exchanged glances.

Only our breathing speaking and getting to know each other.

Faulkner didn’t say goodbye or give me a chance to speak.

But I saw that moment as a victory. A prelude to something big and wonderful.

It was only when I got home that I realized what he had said.

Dante didn’t just want me alive.

He wanted to keep me.

And after searching so much in my father’s dictionary, I discovered that keep could mean to hold, to retain, to preserve, and to protect.