“I have no friends here, Ruby. This is a lifestyle, the only kind Poppy and I have known. The kind that gets you killed if you don’t obey the rules.” He grabs me by the hand again and starts dragging me back down the mountain. I don’t fight this time because I know. I know deep down beneath all of that ugliness he’s showing, that the Wicked I know is real, and this one? This one is something else. “I told her we couldn’t save you. She lost her shit and took off crying. She’s all over the place right now. I’ve hidden a lot from her over the years, and I have a feeling someone with loose fucking lips here has gone out of their way to tell her.”

“Why?” I ask, even though I have no idea what the fuck he’s talking about, but if Poppy is in danger, I want to make sure she has my help, and to help her, I need to know whatever bullshit he’s talking about. Even if I can’t walk without his assistance right now. The drugs are starting to wear off as seconds pass, but whatever it was, felt familiar. “Why would you need to hide things from her in a place you both lived for so long?”

The blades of grass whip my ankles as we finally get to the bottom of the mountain and he spins around to face me. “Because this life wasn’t one we chose. It was one we were thrown into.”

Doors slam closed in the distance, and I whip my head up to see windows shutting and blinds closing. The wind whistles around me and I shiver as I watch the tree branches behind the asylum bend with the wind.

“What’s happening?” I ask through chattering teeth, watching as door by door, window by window, close and cover. That isn’t the warning sign, though. It is the silence. The mere silence. There’s a built wooden playground to the back of the little cabins, where sandcastles are half made. A chicken coop behind that, and beside the coop is a wooden gate where goats stroll aimlessly around the little paddock.

Wicked backs up on me, reaching for my hand. “We’ve got to run…”

“What?” I ask, looking over his shoulder. “What is it?”

Crows squawk from the trees behind the cabins as Wicked continues to back up on me. Only this time, instead of yanking me toward him by my wrist, his fingers intertwine with mine. “We’ve got to run…” he repeats.

Fire breaks through the tree clearing and bright ember flecks dance up in the sky as the sun sets in the distance.