Chapter twenty-six
Lyla
Thesmellofburning flesh was putrid, almost enough to make her sick.
As the fire burned away at the room, the heat getting hotter on her skin, Lyla walked away from the corridor and out toward the exit of the factory, everything she was feeling, everything she had experienced and discovered crashing down on her.
She had a brother.
A few steps into the gloomy factory.
She had family.
Her breathing got choppy.
He hadn't told her.
Something tight invaded her gut.
Before she knew what she was doing, her feet were flying. She began to run, full-throttle, away from the fire, away from the hell, away from the man, nothing but rage pulsing in her head. She couldn't believe he hadn't told her, couldn't believe he'd not given her a single indication that he knew something about her past.
As her feet led her over the cemented floor right to the main entrance, she heard him call out for her.
"Lyla."
Just one word, and her feet faltered before she righted herself. "Do you know my real name?"
He paused, his eyes watchful. "Yes."
Fuck him.
She broke out into a full-speed run.
She needed to get away from him, needed to get some space before she did something she would regret, like scratch his mismatched eyes out.
The emotions swirling in a tornado inside her, she exited into the block, moonlight ample enough to show her the eerie quietness. She hesitated, wondering if she should go through the way they'd come, or take the left toward an unknown area. She looked back to check where he was, only to see him walking casually toward her, his hands in his pockets, eyes intent on her.
She hated that he was approaching her so slowly, that there was no urgency in his chase as there was in her heartbeats.
Fuck him.The thought was on repeat in her mind.
She pivoted left, and began to run to her full speed, her smaller frame quick, more agile, her eyes taking in the area. Industrial block after block passed, the space for her to run narrowing as the final block she crossed opened on some kind of dock but without any boats, just a stream of water spanning the vantage.
Turning, she began to run parallel to the river, not knowing where she was going, just knowing she needed to get away as the cemented path giving away to softer soil.
After a few minutes of running, with her lungs burning and her calves screaming, she stopped, resting her hands on her knees, catching her breath as she looked around for him.
She was alone.
Had he given up on chasing her? Or was he giving her space?
And she was messed up because she hated that. She'd expected him to be at the corner, expected him to be barreling down and taking her with him. She'd expected him to be there, but he wasn't, not as far as the eyes could see. She was in a strange place, all alone, and it was dark.
Tired, she walked to the wooden dock, right over the river, and slumped down on the slabs.
She sat there quietly, looking over the river and to the other side, the bank more forested than this side, and she began to shake.
She didn't know if it was the adrenaline from the running, or the high of the power, or the aftermath of her first murder, or the discovery of her long-lost family. She didn't know what it was, but as her tremors intensified and her eyes began to burn, she stared mindlessly at the water, her mind collapsing again into a kind of numbness that was terrifying her.