The Pawn and The Puppet (The Pawn and The Puppet series Book 1)
The Pawn and The Puppet: Chapter 57

We have nothing to carry. Nothing to claim ownership of.

It’s only us. The Emerald Lake Asylum’s clothes on our backs. And us.

I didn’t dare ask another question as he guided me by my trembling, bloody hand into the forest, walking briskly over the lifted tree roots and tangle of vines. And we ventured into the blackness of nature, listening to the sleeping lullaby of nightfall, the breeze flickering past the leaves, and drying the sweat along my neck and chest.

Kane. His name is Kane. He was born with that name. Kane.

After an hour and a half of trudging through the weeds, he turned to look at me, hardly recognizable in the lack of light. Without hesitation, his large hands slid along either side of my waist—and just as I thought he was going to lean into me—he lifted me effortlessly from the ground over the fallen tree trunk.

I tried to hide my expression as the goose bumps blistered over my skin.

After a couple more hours, I couldn’t keep going—I had to stop. I had to hold myself up as I wiped the sweat from my brow and fought to catch my breath. I had seen so much. Learned so much. It was dragging me to the ground. And all I wanted to do was sleep. Rest. Wake up and ask questions when my brain healed. But I knew he had a plan. Knew he had a destination in mind.

It was my legs—they burned, wobbled, threatened to collapse. But I couldn’t tell him that. Couldn’t burden him with the deadweight.

And it was as if he could read me like a book, understood my silence, sensed my exhaustion. Another set of chills broke out across my legs and back as he scooped me from my slouched, panting position against an oak tree and into the cradle of his massive arms.

I gasped then, gawked at him, so close to his tan face even in the pale moonlight.

“I can walk myself,” I told him, “I only needed time to catch my breath.” A lie. It was impossible to take another step.

But he didn’t dare embarrass me. He only smiled and said, “I don’t mind.”

It took me several minutes to loosen the tight flex of my muscles, the rigid position I was sitting stiffly in, and relax against his chest. I let my body then melt, curling into his heartbeat, his deep breathing, his sweet scent of cedar.

And then, I had fallen asleep easily with the gentle sway of his walk. I drifted away in the safest setting I could imagine.

With my ear against his heart.