Chapter 2

Damon went back to the bedroom and lay down. Not long after, Eleanor pushed the door open and came in.

Her footsteps drew closer. Damon slowly closed his eyes.

Eleanor stopped beside his bed and quietly looked at him.

Damon wondered what he was to her right now. The man she loved? Or rows and rows of cold experimental data?

Eleanor crouched down and brushed her fingers lightly across his cheek.

Damon couldn't help it. His whole body shuddered.

"Another nightmare?"

Her voice was impossibly gentle, and she patted his back softly.

A bitter ache rose in Damon's chest, and his eyes reddened before he realized it.

He wanted to ask whether what he'd just overheard was real.

Maybe it had all been a delusion, something his trauma had invented?

Eleanor obviously loved him!

And Marcus had always been so refined and kind.

"Eleanor."

Damon sat up. In the darkness, his eyes were frighteningly bright.

"Hm?"

"I've heard that some doctors deliberately inject patients with viruses for the sake of their research."

He paused, then went on. "Do you think Dr. Keane might also..."

"Damon!"

Eleanor shot to her feet, her expression turning icy.

"Marcus has poured everything into treating you. He's lost weight over it. How can you accuse him like that?"

Damon stared at her blankly.

It was the first time since his rescue that Eleanor had ever lost her temper with him.

And it was for Marcus.

Realizing she'd lost her composure, Eleanor turned her head away and cleared her throat.

"Damon, you have to trust us. We're both trying to help you."

The light in Damon's eyes dimmed bit by bit.

"Okay. I'll cooperate with the treatment."

He rolled over and lay back down. "I'm tired."

Eleanor tucked the blanket around him and kissed his forehead.

"Get some sleep. I'm going to the study to go over the next stage of your treatment with Marcus."

The door clicked shut. Damon opened his eyes.

He didn't know why, but something made him pull up the camera feed for the study.

Eleanor had been so afraid something might happen to him that she'd installed cameras in nearly every corner of the house.

The moment the feed loaded, Damon went cold.

Eleanor—who had supposedly gone to discuss his treatment plan with Marcus—was locked in Marcus's arms!

On the screen, Marcus swallowed hard, barely holding himself back.

Eleanor rested her head against his chest, one hand roaming restlessly over him.

"Eleanor, Damon's done so much for my research, and here I am taking his woman for myself. Doesn't that make me a terrible person?"

Eleanor frowned, grabbed his hand, and pressed it firmly to her chest.

"Don't bring him up right now."

Then she rose onto her toes and kissed him.

The hand holding Damon's phone wouldn't stop shaking.

No wonder she had engineered her own fiancé's kidnapping for the sake of some so-called old friend from school. Their relationship had never been innocent to begin with!

Fighting back the churning in his stomach, Damon hit screen record.

The rustle of clothes coming off and the unrestrained breathing of a man and a woman filled his ears.

He muted the sound and turned the phone facedown.

Those images and sounds dragged the three nightmarish months back up from his memory, piece by piece.

When Eleanor had walked into the cellar and come toward him that day, he'd screamed and fought on instinct.

"Stay away! Don't touch me!"

Red-eyed, Eleanor had wrapped her arms around him again and again, even as his fists and feet landed on her without mercy.

"Damon, it's me! Damon, don't be scared!"

Looking back now, how much of that had been real, and how much had been guilt?