I stand in her line of sight. “The evenings are becoming warmer,” I say.

“I wouldn’t know,” she rebounds, but at least she’s responsive.

“Would you like to?”

This intrigues her and she looks up to meet my eyes. “You mean, you’re willing to risk your feral animal escaping?”

I deserve her ire, but sarcasm has no place between us any longer. I remove the keyring from my jeans and walk toward her. “There’s no reason to mask your lack of emotions, Blakely. Cynicism worked well for you before, but I’d like to meet the real Blakely now.”

Her mouth tips into a defiant smirk. “You couldn’t handle her.”

“That may be so,” I admit. As I crouch to get near the cuff on her arm, I hold her gaze. “You could overpower me—” I insert the key into the lock “—and you might make it far enough where I couldn’t find you, but you’d most likely die of hyperthermia before you ever reached another living soul.”

I turn the key, and the lock springs open.

Her eyes narrow on me. “We’re not in the city,” she reasons.

I unlock the other shackle and slip my keys into my pocket before removing the cuffs. I notice the red rings marring her skin from the restrains, and I cup my hand around her delicate wrist.

“We are not in the city,” I confirm, as I rub my thumb over the tender welts lining her skin. “I have some ointment to treat this.”

She slips out of my grasp. “Where are we, Alex?”

I rise to my feet and offer her my hand. “We’re in a safe place.”

She ignores my offer and instead climbs to her feet on her own. She’s wearing a pair of jeans that I was successful in selecting her size and one of my long-sleeved T-shirts. Seeing her in my shirt does something to me…it’s so intimate, like something a girlfriend would do after spending a night together.

I rub the back of my neck and look away. “I’ll show you.”

I lead her through the lab toward the metal door, where I unlock the bolt chaining the slider bar. This is the only access to the outside. Blakely won’t be given a tour of the cabin. Too many personal effects. Too many questions.

I push the door open and walk ahead of her up the concrete staircase. As I reach the hatch door, I shove it open and it slams against the ground with a bang that disturbs the silence. Slowly, the sounds of night greet our ears. Crickets, cicadas, the distant movement of the river.

Blakely inhales deeply. “I could smell the water.”

“Hyperosmia,” I say, turning to watch as she glances around the dark woods. We’re buried in the heart of the forest, shrouded by ancient pines and towering mountain peaks. “You have an extremely heightened sense of smell. That’s located here”—I point to the middle of my head—“in the parietal lobe.”