She gasped as a low, silvery flood lit the room from the window pane, a cloud moving from across the face of a full moon. The light was dim but she could see his profile.

“You’re not wearing a mask.” She reached out without thinking, but he grabbed her hand, shaking his head, turning away.

“Don’t.” Silas stood, his back to the window, his face in shadow. “I should go to bed.” The light dimmed, the moon playing hide and seek, as he moved away.

“Do you think the wolf will come back?” she asked as he opened the door.

“She was a lone wolf.”

She nodded. “My father always said they were the most dangerous kind.” They were both silent, the air pregnant with the pause.

“My father…” She said the words again and they both let them dangle at the edge of comprehension. Her breath had turned to ice in her throat, her body moving from hot to cold and back to hot again. The world tilted up and down and back and she opened her mouth to speak, the first memory coming, the rest falling like dominoes behind it. It was a horrifying relief, that flood of memories, and all she could manage was a distressed cry.

Silas was by her side in an instant, pulling her trembling body into his arms.

“He killed my father,” she choked, hiding her face against his chest. He wore a pair of white long-underwear and moved like a ghost in the darkness.

“Who?” he asked sharply.

“Oh my god.” The tears came in a flood like the memories and she clung to him, feeling his arms tighten at her back. “Carlos killed my father! He tried to kill me too!” He prompted her like he had been for days. “What do you remember?”

“Everything. Everything.” It was true. Her name, her life, her near-death, Jolee remembered it all in one terrifying, mind-blowing instant. “I’m so afraid.” She quivered. “I want to go home.”