Page 35 of Take

“What’s going on, Xamien?”

Xamien raised his head and looked toward the car. The air grew colder and then a grey cloud of mist appeared.

I stiffened as a figure emerged from the fog and I met the ice-blue eyes of Waleron. He looked at me and for one second, I wondered if he knew who I was.

He was an ancient, upheld the laws above all others and protected the Scars with his life. He was exceptionally private and no one even knew where he lived. But two things everyone did know was that he endured sixty-one years of torture by a CWO, a Lilac, and he would do anything to protect the Scars—anything.

He strode toward us and I shifted a little closer to Xamien, who responded by squeezing my waist reassuringly.

“Xamien. Jasper,” Waleron said then turned to me. “Max.” I shivered as he said my name. It was as if he knew it wasn’t my real name. Was it possible? Did he know I was Breanna and lied about my name all these years?

Xamien nodded with respect. Jasper didn’t say anything; actually, I noticed he avoided looking at Waleron all together, which was odd because Jasper met everyone head on.

“You tell her who is after her?” And Waleron’s voice matched his ice-cold glare—abrupt and harsh.

My heart jumped and then started running a sprint. Heat flooded my body as my nerves began to shoot off like fireworks. No, don’t say it. Please don’t say it.

“Not yet,” Xamien said.

“What the fuck are you guys talking about?” Jasper’s hands curled into fists at his sides. “Waleron, damn it. You bastard. You told me you didn’t know who the fuck was after her.”

Waleron didn’t even flinch as he stood calmly and kept his eyes on me. I knew. No one had to say anything. I knew what they were going to tell me.

“The Scar looking for you,” Xamien said. “He’s been seen all over the world for the past six months looking for a girl. A girl about twenty years old with scars on her and a burn on the top of her foot over a tattoo.” Bile rose in my throat and I had to swallow several times. “His name is Drake and he’s an ancient Scar, Max.” Oh, God. It was Drake. “This Scar . . . the Goddess killed his Ink because he was too powerful. He wanted to destroy the Scars and be the only one to rule. When his Ink died, it weakened his lungs and took most of his powers away including his ability to Trace.”

I didn’t hear his words anymore and I didn’t need to. I knew the story. What they didn’t yet know was that Drake had kept me prisoner for six years as his private Healer.

And now he was looking for me and didn’t care who knew it.

Black spotted my vision as the overwhelming fear catapulted me into a soaring reel of emotions that suddenly crashed to the ground and left me gasping for air.

“Max,” Xamien gently pulled me around to face him. “The house I found you in . . . there were vampires but . . . were they followers of Drake? Was he who we rescued you from? Is that why you hid that you’re a Healer? Because you’ve been scared he’d find you?”

My breath locked in my throat as I thought of Drake. He could Trace again. He was looking for me. He had hordes of vampire followers to help him. He had humans helping him. Who else? CWOs?

“Max, we need answers in order to protect you.” Xamien rubbed my arms up and down, trying to comfort me, but all I could think about was Drake.

“Yes. I healed him for six years.” I closed my eyes as the fear grabbed hold of me and brought me under. I trembled and heard voices echoing, arguing, but I couldn’t focus on anything except that Drake was the one coming for me.

Drake would kill Xamien. He’d kill anyone who got in his way, just like he had my Talde and my mother. He was resilient, unwavering, determined.

I felt as if I was standing naked in the freezing cold and frost bite was slowly eating away at my skin.

“Max!” It was Jasper’s curt tone that cut into me and I slowly opened my eyes. Jasper had his hands on my hips and I was clutching his shirt as I stood in front of him, not even knowing how I got there. “He won’t find you.”

But no words could calm the rising storm of emotions. The numbness Jasper had chipped away at was crumbling—fast. “Yes, he will.” I forgot about Xamien and Waleron as I looked up into Jasper’s eyes, tears filling them as everything I’d fought to avoid came crashing down on me. “Did you know he walked the streets of different cities every day? All around the world just so he’d be able to Trace to any place he wanted. I healed him every week so he’d be strong enough to Trace.” Jasper’s entire body pulsated with tension as he looked over at Waleron who stood beside us. “I was taken when I was ten. He killed my mother and Talde. He burned everything and then he . . .”

Then he tortured me for six years; watched me suffer. Forced me to heal him. He had left reminders on my body, so every time I looked at myself in the mirror I saw him.

“Jesus, the Talde in England. The little girl, Breanna,” Xamien said beneath his breath. “Everything was burned to the ground.”

I nodded and stepped back from Jasper’s grip on my hips. I was instantly cold and wanted the comfort of his hands again. It was possessive and protective and yet, Jasper was neither. Not really. He was both at that moment merely because he was paid to be.

Xamien put his hand on my shoulder as if knowing I needed some sort of support. “But there are no Healers missing. How is it that the bastard can Trace now? You said you had to heal his lungs every week so he’d be able to Trace.”

Everyone was quiet.

Waleron had yet to react to anything I was saying, but he rarely reacted—stone cold.