Lev woke to cold against his arm. It was something new at least, not the fire that had faded into a dull bite. He opened his eyes slowly. A classroom: tile floors, faint light. He didn’t recognize it, but the architecture felt like the tower.

  He was lying on some kind of mat, arm hanging slightly off. That was the cold. Air licked his chest as a fan spun, and he shivered. A strip of gauze crossed his chest diagonally, tight enough to itch when he breathed. Beneath it, the skin throbbed in jagged patches that followed that Heatsinger’s touch. He’d been wearing a shirt before. Where—

  Voices. Lev stiffened. A woman’s voice drifted from another room. His body jolted. It wasn’t the voice from the roof, but his memory didn’t care. It attacked in full force.

  His body didn’t just remember the sensation; it recreated it. Nerve for nerve, second for second, like it was happening all over again.

  His body remembered the weight of arms around him, tight and anchoring. The kind of touch that was supposed to mean safe. The kind that filled him with relief, even as his brain screamed danger: she would hurt him.

  And that was the worst part. Not the pain. But that, for one stupid second, it felt good.

  And then that touch turned into fire.

  A scream built in his throat, but he choked it back. His chest convulsed, shoulders curling in as the pain twisted through him. Then came the sobs, harsh and breathless, like he was breaking open from the inside.

  He shoved the memory away as a tear slipped down his cheek, because it didn’t just hurt now. It would never completely go away, not really. It would just sit there, stacked on the shelf, waiting to fall open again. His body would remember that feeling perfectly.

  For the rest of his life.

  His breathing sped up. What if his body got confused? When Teorin had touched him earlier, it had been fire all over again, even though Teorin was trying to help. After a few touches, it had been okay, but what if he was broken now? What if his body couldn’t tell safe from unsafe anymore?

  He needed touch to survive, but now even the good ones might remind him of fire. How was he supposed to live like that? How could he—

  Breathe, Lev! Focus!

  He’d figure it out. He always did. This wasn’t the first painful touch he’d endured. The worst maybe, but it wouldn’t be the last. He made himself breathe slower. In. Out. Then he listened.

  “I can only patch him up here,” the woman was saying, “But he needs serious treatment.”

  Lev winced internally. It sounded like they were talking about him.

  Serious treatment. It wasn’t like he didn’t know that. He’d be a pretty lousy medical student if he couldn’t recognize a third-degree burn on his arm or the second-degree one across his chest. Not that knowing helped.

  But he was well aware the pain wasn’t going to fade anytime soon. Still, pain alone had never been the problem. His threshold was high. He could handle the throbbing. It was the memories that made him fall apart.

  His other delightful condition: his built-in countdown timer for losing his mind. He could already feel it—a million overlapping remembered touches that created the low buzz creeping under his skin like a polite but insistent reminder.

  Maybe he should have been grateful it wasn’t worse, but really? He should have had another day before this started. What time even was it? If he was still on the tower floor, it couldn’t have been that long, right? He should still have like thirty hours until this started, but no. When it rained, it poured.

  It wasn’t like no one had touched him: a couple hugs from Kara yesterday, Teorin’s shoulder last night—or this morning? Lev groaned. He couldn’t tell. Apparently, none of that mattered.

  Because missing sisters and third-degree burns? That was someone punching holes in his gas tank while he scrambled for duct tape and prayed no one lit a match. He gritted his teeth. That miserable Heatsinger had probably thrown herself a party. At least he’d gotten the last laugh.

  Still, duct tape just wasn’t that effective. Not when he was—

  A tremor ran through him as the memory hit again, pain flaring. Stupid perfect memory. Couldn’t he forget for once?

  He pressed his palm flat to the floor—cold, solid, real. Not memory… right?

  No, he could still tell. That was real. It was. Kara. He needed Kara. If he could just reset, he could be sure, but if she wasn’t already here with him—

  Concentrate, Lev. Find Kara, he commanded himself. He focused back on the voices.

  “… bad idea. I can’t send Robert with you,” the woman was saying. “Really we shouldn’t, but if you don’t want to go to the clinic, I’ll have to get the necessary equipment. He is stable enough to travel, but you’ll have to keep a close eye on him.”

  “I understand, Heidi,” a deeper voice said. Lev didn’t recognize that voice either. He vaguely remembered Teorin bringing someone in, a man… then things were all sort of a blur.

  The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

  “Right. I’m leaving him in your care, then,” the woman, presumably Heidi, said. “I take that seriously as a medical professional. I’ll meet you in Crisuma in two hours. We’ll bring Bryan.”

  The conversation didn’t tell him much about who these people were, but they cared if he lived. That was something. He shifted to get a better look.

  Pain flared across his chest like a lit match—sharp, fast, tolerable. What came next wasn’t. The memory clawed at him, heat and betrayal crawling under his skin. He gasped and dropped back to the mat, shoving the memory down and forcing it back on the shelf.

  Not real. Not real. Just memory. He didn’t have to live it.

  Footsteps rushed over. A brunette woman appeared and knelt beside him. “I wouldn’t recommend any sudden movements,” she said.

  Lev took a gasping breath, then forced out, “Noted.”

  The woman smiled. She looked like she was in her early thirties. “I’m Dr. Isla, but you can just call me Heidi. You’ve got some pretty serious burns here, but we’re going to take care of you.”

  “How long was I out?” Lev asked. He recalled feeling lightheaded in the hallway. He knew that he’d fainted, but normally that was a quick thing. Too much had happened in the space of time he’d been unconscious.

  Heidi’s smile faltered. “Maybe three hours? You were in shock when I got here, pretty disoriented. I gave you something to put you out. We had to remove your shirt, and well… it was better that you weren’t awake for that.”

  Now that she’d mentioned it, Lev did vaguely recall a dark classroom and Teorin and the man… arguing? They’d gotten into some sort of argument out in the hall. It was all sort of fuzzy, more like a painful dream at this point. Considering how he was feeling now, it was probably good that Heidi had put him out.

  “I gave you something to take the edge off the pain,” Heidi continued, “But I don’t really have the set up here to give you anything intravenous. I can give you another localized numbing agent if the pain is still unmanageable. The dose Teorin gave you is probably wearing off, and you’re going to have to do some walking unfortunately.”

  Lev shifted a little again, just to experiment. Pain shot through his side like flames searing all over again. He gasped, “I’ll take it.”

  Heidi nodded as she reached into her bag and pulled out a small injection canister. “This will sting a little, but it’s better to apply it close to the site. Is that alright?”

  Lev nodded, and the doctor went to work. He held his breath, bracing for memory pain. For his body to have learned the wrong lesson, but the moment her fingers touched him, nothing happened. It wasn’t like with Teorin earlier.

  In fact, his body did something nice, normal even. The itch under his skin settled at her touch on his arm, draining away. Oh, stars. No memories. Just reality. Suddenly, he had to force himself to not lean in.

  He let out a gasp, and Heidi looked at him in concern, but it was relief not pain. Maybe his body still recognized safety. Maybe he wasn’t broken.

  The sting of the injection barely registered—nothing compared to the burns. She injected other spots, adjusting the gauze, but her hands stayed, and Lev wanted to collapse in relief. Then she pulled back, and Lev squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the medication to take effect. Pain begat pain memories. Even some numbness would help.

  He took a deep breath and asked, “What’s going on?”

  “I don’t know if I should be the one to answer that question,” Heidi said. She was sitting cross-legged on the ground, which wasn’t exactly how he was used to talking to doctors. “But I’ll tell you what I can. Jeron called me a few hours ago and said he had a burn patient. I was already on my way to look at someone else. I work with Novem. I’m a traveling doctor, I guess you could say. I did what I could to fix you up with what I’ve got here.”

  So, Teorin had found help. Good.

  “My sister?” Lev asked.

  Heidi cocked her head, thinking for a moment. “Oh, the translator? I don’t think anyone has seen her from the talk. Teorin’s been storming around about it.”

  Lev felt it immediately, his chest tightening—not fear, exactly. The quiet kind of panic that settled in and stayed. Kara was gone. Would they hurt her? Why would they even—

  Wait. Teorin? Lev raised an eyebrow at Heidi. “Storming around? Really?”

  Heidi just chuckled. “Oh, yes. He can be pretty dramatic in his own way when things go wrong. I’ve patched him up before.”

  It was hard to reconcile that with the guy who had gone after those pages so desperately he’d nearly gotten Lev killed. Maybe he’d have an ally after all.

  “So, what’s happening now?” Lev asked.

  “Well, Jeron—Teorin’s boss—left to get the car, and I think Teorin is reading something in the other room. We don’t want to go anywhere public with all the ruckus going on, so we’re going to take you to our private facility. Do you want me to get Teorin?”

  His pulse ticked up. Private facility. No escape. No one outside Novem. No contact. Panic bloomed in his chest. His skin itched as memory fragments slipped out of control, the relief from Heidi’s touch already dissipating. He had to get out. Had to reach Uncle Rhett or Mom. They’d steady him; they always did. Because how else would he—

  No!

  He had to find Kara. She was gone. He’d let her out of his sight, and now she was gone. The memory of Rhett’s hand on his back surged up, solid and warm. Not pain. Just safety. A way to fix the ache, but that didn’t matter now. Not if it meant losing Kara.

  If he left, who else would fight to find her? He could go home and function again, but that would be abandoning her to whatever fate Novem decided on.

  Unacceptable.

  But if he said yes—if he went along with this—he was locking himself in a cage with no windows. He’d be living on scraps, brushes of touch, whatever he could get from Novem staff. A touch-starved scavenger. Next up: sanity roadkill with a side of emotional collapse. What fantastic options!

  But maybe… maybe this wouldn’t drag on so long. Maybe he’d be fine. He did stupid things all the time. So, not much different than normal, right? Just no Kara to call him out on it this time.

  Just think of it like a stupid full-weekend basketball tournament, Lev thought. He’d volunteered for those. No resets. Just brushes, high fives, and victory hugs. He could hold it together. And this time, instead of trying not to cry in the locker room, he was dodging doctors and crazy Novem people. Easy. Doable.

  Except there was no end in sight. Lev kicked that thought away.

  And maybe… maybe he could tell someone. Maybe they would help. But what if they couldn’t handle it? What if it was just his experience with Dad all over again? The sighs, the ignoring, the avoiding contact. At least, Dad would never actively try to hurt him, but someone else? What if they leaked it to the media, made it a spectacle?

  Lev let out a shuttering breath. He couldn’t risk it. Not yet. There was a reason he only told family the truth, but if it came down to his secret or Kara… he already knew the answer, even if it hurt.

  She was gone and maybe scared, and he wasn’t sure Novem would care. But he did, and he couldn’t lose her. Staying with Teorin was his best shot at finding Kara. And right now, that was all that mattered.

  “If you could get Teorin, that would be great,” Lev said. His voice came out steady, but his fingers twitched against the mat, just a flicker. His body already knew what his mouth wouldn’t say: this was going to break him if it went on too long.

  He had said yes. He’d chosen the cage. For Kara.

  Now he just had to survive it.

  And hope that the next touch didn’t burn.