The rain battered the windows of the Brooklyn safehouse. “Elena” sat on the sofa, watching Marcus Thorne secure the locks for the night. The fear of her recent nightmares was fading, replaced by a warm, confusing sense of safety.
Marcus turned to find her watching him. “You’re safe, Elena. I promise.”
“I know,” she said softly. She stood up and walked toward him. “I don’t know who I was before, Marcus. I don’t know who ‘Victoria’ is. I only know who I am right now.”
She reached out, resting her hand on his chest. Marcus froze.
“And right now,” she whispered, looking up at him with trusting eyes, “I feel safe with you. I think… I think I’m falling in love with you, Marcus.”
Marcus felt like the floor had opened up beneath him. This was the woman he had sworn to protect for his best friend. She was William Croft’s wife. But she didn’t remember William; she only saw the “Jailer” who had cared for her for months.
“Elena, you don’t know what you’re saying,” Marcus choked out, stepping back, terrified by the fact that he desperately wanted it to be true.