Chapter 5 - The First Spark
Rain lashed against the heavy glass windows as midnight struck on the seventh day.
Willa sat on the edge of the mattress, tired to her bones. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her body exhausted from running on three hours of sleep a night. She had spent the last three hours meticulously hiding her notebook inside the hollow lining of an old medical encyclopedia on the bottom bookshelf.
She looked down at Everett.
His face looked different tonight. The gray, ash-like pallor was fading, replaced by a faint, healthy flush across his cheekbones. His breathing was deeper, more rhythmic, no longer reliant on the mechanical rhythmic gasp of the oxygen feed.
She reached out, taking his heavy, calloused hand into her small palms.
"I talked to the care facility today," she whispered softly into the quiet room. "Mom smiled when I called. She asked about my new home. I told her I was living in a palace on the water."
A soft, sad laugh escaped her lips.
"I didn't tell her my husband is a sleeping giant," she continued gently, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles. "I know who you are, Everett. I read the news articles from three years ago. They called you the Phantom of the Docks. They said you were dangerous, ruthless, a man who never showed mercy to his enemies."
She leaned closer, her breath warm against his cheek.
"But you haven't hurt anyone from this bed. You've given my mother a second chance at life, even if you didn't mean to. So I'm going to save yours. Even if Sterling kills me when he finds out."
In the pitch-black fortress of his mind, Everett Kane felt a wave of cold, savage rage—not at her, but at the thought of anyone touching a single hair on her head.
They won't touch you, he vowed in the darkness. I will tear this city apart before I let Sterling lay a finger on you.
Willa closed her eyes, exhausted. She rested her forehead against the edge of his mattress, her fingers still intertwined with his.
"You know why I talk to you every night, Everett?" she murmured, her voice slipping into the heavy gray haze of sleep.
In the quiet room, the monitor beeped softly.
Tell me, Everett screamed internally. Tell me, Willa.
"Because..." Willa drifted off, her breathing turning slow and rhythmic as sleep finally claimed her.
Ten seconds passed.
The storm outside howled against the glass, sending sharp flashes of lightning across the dark ceiling.
In the bed, Everett’s left index finger twitched.
May you like
Then his thumb moved.
Slowly, deliberately, with a crushing, agonizing effort that burned through months of paralyzed atrophy, Everett Kane closed his heavy, calloused fingers around Willa’s hand, holding her tight in the dark.
