Page 112 of Shadowface

He runs his hand through his hair. “I had some help, and we don’t have to worry about her talking.”

I don’t have the nerve to ask what he means by that. “What…what did you do to her?”

He squeezes my side. “She’ll live, and she’s not down here anymore, listening to us. I thought that would make you happy.”

It makes me happier than I ever want to admit.

I swallow hard. “How…how can you be sure she won’t report you?”

He blinks twice and stares at me and, truly, I don’t see anything resembling emotion. Nothing resembling humanity. “She has her heartbeat, Summer. She will move on with her life, as best she can despite being mute. She will never be able to speak again. It was the lesser of two evils.”

I huff out a breath. “Lincoln…what did you do?”

“I muted her. That’s all you need to know.”

I give him an incredulous look.

He presses his glasses up his nose and rubs his chin as if this conversation is bothersome. “I’m not the one who took her. Mikael did. I did what I could to fix this.”

He didn’t do this…

He’s a protector.

“How do you mute someone?”

He shrugs and gives me another squeeze. “Trauma-induced mutism. I wasn’t sure if it would work, but it seemed to. We scared the girl so shitless, I doubt she will ever be able to form another sentence.”

I keep my gaze steady on him, waiting to see any sign of Mikael or the mystery shimmer. “What makes you certain she’ll never speak again? And when you say we, what do you mean exactly? Who else is in there with you?” Mikael or that terrifying, godlike creature that ravished me for hours. Not that Mikael alone isn’t terrifying enough.

What does one have to do to mute someone? Not silence them, not make them promise they won’t say anything, but full out mute them…altering their brain chemistry into silence.

Lincoln’s eyes are fixed on me, and a faint, chilling glimmer shines through them.

It’s blinding.

I startle back. I’m not ready for that side of Lincoln to come out again. I’ve had enough of him today.

“As I’ve told you, the only alters present are me and Mikael. No one else is in here,” he says as he pops more popcorn into his mouth and my stomach grumbles again.

“Okay…” I cut him off and grab his knee before the god emerges. I frown as I glance at his computer, and all the notes strewed on his desk.

Trying to keep Lincoln fronting and distracted, I ask, “What are you doing your thesis on?”

“Oddly enough, the same thing you should be studying right now.” He opens the desk drawer and places the large textbook on the desk in front of us.

He watches me as I run my fingers over my father’s name.

Dr. K. Landry.

Followed by not so big letters.

Dr. T. Garcia.

That sickening sensation tugs at my gut seeing their names together. As if the two of them caused this, as if the two of them created Lincoln—or destroyed Mikael, depending on how you want to look at it. As if they created what force of nature I had sex with all day.

I rise from Lincoln’s warmth and stumble back to bed, and my stomach drops. Jesus.

“Shit,” I mutter. “I completely forgot to submit my psychology weekly assignment.”