“Wait!”

I ignore the sound of Ezra’s panic-filled voice and sweep the shard within an inch of my shoulder. My free hand takes hold of my hair at the same moment, holding it in place while I tighten my grip on the broken fragment. The glass slices through the waterlogged strands with ease.

A relieved breath trickles through my lips as I feel a heavy weight lift off my soul. My reflection behind me calls out in response to it, beckoning me to face her. As I do, my fingers slacken, dropping the large chunk of unwanted hair to the floor.

My eyes flash to my shortened locks, the ends now sitting just below the metal collar. The difference is drastic, but it’s also familiar.

I study my features. My hair. My different colored eyes. Many long moments pass before I notice that the room behind me has changed. Spinning on my heel, I find myself staring at a set of steel doors. Elevator doors.

The elevator at W. P. Headquarters.

Reaching out, my fingertips touch the face of my distorted reflection. Upon contact, ripples flow across the metal in a fluid-like motion until they engulf my surroundings, drowning everything.

Within seconds, the vision transforms, bringing me to my quarters at the DSD—back when I was first taken by them. My eyes blink, and when they reopen, I’m in the underground compound where I met Jenner and Rai.

I blink again. Hundreds of glass fragments surround me, tiled along the walls in the side room of Bilken’s office. I see my face reflected in each one.

Face, after face, after face.

A swelling sensation overwhelms my body, twisting my stomach until I can’t hold it at bay any longer. I try to fight against it, but I’m unable to contain this power, and the pressure rushes out of my pores in a single wave of release. When it leaves me, I hear the abrupt shattering of glass.

I see the monster—I see myself—in the millions of glass shards that fall around me like rain.

Face . . . after face . . . after face . . .

A sharp breath catches in my throat, and suddenly, I realize that I’m back in the washroom. Goosebumps rise across my naked body. My dark tresses lay forgotten on the floor by my feet. My reflection stares back at me from the mirror above the sink, waiting for my reaction.

At first, I don’t move. Instead, I look at the woman in front of me, recognizing that she isn’t a stranger any longer.

Now, we’re finally one and the same.

A slight movement in the mirror attracts my attention, and a soft gasp rushes from my lungs as I turn in place. My heart begins to race when I lock eyes with the person standing there.

“Ezra,” I breathe.

I hesitate, keeping my distance as I take in his face. A strained disbelief distorts his features, but in spite of that, I see the flicker of hope in his gaze.

A lump blocks my throat as I choke back a cry. Tears spill down my cheeks, burning my skin and lips. The urge to run to him rips through my body, taking control of my every movement. All I can hear is the sound of my feet slapping against the floor.

I feel his delicious heat before I even get the chance to touch him. His eyes widen when I collapse into his arms, and although I embrace him, he doesn’t hug me back. I can’t help wondering if it’s because he’s afraid to believe what my physical actions are implying. If he’s afraid to believe I’ve come back to him when so many factors suggested that I wouldn’t.

His body shifts, and his hands wrap around my back in a slow, cautious movement.

“Do you . . . remember?”

His words are a mere tremor in my ear, but I can hear the apprehension that lingers there, ringing through my head.

I reposition my arms around his neck. Snaking my fingers through his hair, I hug his face to my breast.

“Yes,” I exhale in a breathless voice.

His body is still, but I can feel his heart pounding in the very surface of his skin. Each beat coincides with the erratic tempo of my own.

“I remember everything.”

His grip on me tightens as a faint sigh of relief parts his lips. I cling to him in response, holding him to me and breathing him in. For a long while, we remain this way, encased in each other’s arms.

Tears continue to flood my eyes. Tears of happiness, for the most part, although I can’t escape the cruel reality hiding behind this moment. Eventually, the weight of what I’m feeling becomes too much for me to bear.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

I repeat this several times, unable to abandon the guilt of everything I’ve put him through.

What he must’ve felt when I left him and later, when he saw what the State had turned me into.

What he must’ve felt when I came back and didn’t remember who he was.

If only I could muster the words to tell him why his suffering was necessary.

For the past few months, I’ve questioned my amnesia and deliberated over Richter’s potential role in causing it. What I didn’t grasp then, and what I’m only remembering now, is that forgetting my past was entirely my own doing.

I chose to abandon those memories—not only because of the longing they stirred in my chest, but because I was afraid that Ezra and Jenner would be in danger if I didn’t. With how I was treated at the DSD, sucked of intel on a daily basis, I couldn’t hide anything from Dr. Richter. If either of them ever became a target of the State, I would be helpless to protect them. Shutting out my past was the only way to guarantee their safety and to cope with the guilt I felt over leaving them.

Plus, Dr. Richter messed with my brain so often that it got to a point where blocking out certain things, like emotions and memories, became easy. The one positive to come out of the experimentation and torture I was subjected to.

Still, no matter how much I try to justify it, no matter how many times I tell myself I did it to protect him, I can’t escape the impact of my actions. I’ve hurt him, and I’ll never be able to forgive myself for it.

“I’m sorry . . .” I whisper again.

Ezra pulls away from me, and his hands slide up my arms, coming to rest against my cheeks. Cupping my face, he lifts my chin, tempting me to look at him. With a shake of his head, he leans his forehead against mine.

I choke back another cry as I push myself even closer to him, and for this moment, I allow myself to revel in his touch. In turn, I reacquaint myself with feeling him beneath my fingertips.

It’s just as it was the first time. The influx of emotions I was never permitted to show rush through my body with rapid intensity. They ingrain themselves in every fiber of my being until, just like the monster, they take control—manipulating my actions as if they’re an alternate personality.

A blush reddens my cheeks as I remember the details of that night. Of our one true moment together.

The way he kissed me. The way it felt to be that close to him.

I’m overcome with the urge to experience that again.

“Kiss me,” I gasp.

His lips slam into mine with a ravenous hunger as his hands move along my naked body, caressing every inch. The way he touches me causes my nerve endings to spring back to life, igniting me with a fire that blazes through my veins and finally settles in the pit of my belly. After being numb for so long, I can barely handle the extreme sensations. Regardless, I need to feel more.

I need to be reminded of what I was before.

Pulling him against me, I back toward the showers, one step at a time. I keep his lips fixed on mine, refusing to release him. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to want me to.

My feet brush against the black bodysuit that lay abandoned on the floor, collecting moisture. Kicking it aside, my fingers fumble for the metal handle on the wall. With one quick jerk, the water sprays down on both of us.

Ezra reels back, startled. My hands reach up and take hold of his face, forcing him to look at me.

“I need to feel human.”

He gapes at me as the drops run across my exposed torso. The wetness soaks his shirt, but he doesn’t move.

I bring my face close to his until my breath touches his lips. “Please,” I beg.

With that single word, he’s back in my arms. His mouth finds mine as my hands remove his clothes, desperate to feel his body.

Desperate to relive that moment.

He trails kisses along my neck, and I can feel his teeth as he hums against my skin. Three beautiful words rise up to meet my ear.

“I’ve missed you.”

Our eyes meet, and without saying anything more, we allow the water to overtake us.