Celestine had never faced anything like this before.
In that split second, the boy had shoved her out of harm’s way.
She watched, helpless, as the bullet tore through his thin chest.
But then her own head hit the rocks–after that, everything went black.
The next thing she remembered was waking up in a hospital bed.
She never saw the boy again.
Police officers came, one after another, asking her to recall every painful detail from those days.
Celestine answered their questions over and over, reliving the nightmare each time. One night, her mother found her crouched in the backyard, picking at the grass and eating it. The sight left her mother terrified.
They brought her to a therapist.
The doctor said she had post–traumatic stress disorder.
After that… things started to blur.
She forgot about the chains, the boy, and the gunshot.
But every night, when darkness fell, fear crept in. She would curl up in her room, unable to sleep without the lights on.
And now, as the missing piece of her memory snapped into place, the present scene overlapped with that long–buried past.
Celestine’s gasp tore through the silence.
Mr. Shield was him.
He hadn’t died…
Suddenly, memories came/rushing back–too many, too fast.
Inside that pitch–black cave, the boy had whispered, “Thank you for saving me. If we make it out of here, I swear I’ll protect you.”
In that instant, everything made sense: why Gideon kept showing up, time and again. Why every “coincidence” happened just when she needed someone most.
Why, despite his fear of the ocean, he’d plunged into the sea after her with no hesitation.
He’d been keeping his promise all along.
He’d always been watching over her, in silence.
The broken link in her memory snapped back together, and Celestine was left reeling, unable to catch her breath.
She was still in shock when the man in front of her finally opened his eyes.
Gideon’s lips curled into a faint smile. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Surprised I’m still alive?”
Celestine blinked, nodded, then shook her head furiously.
“You’re afraid of water?” she ventured.
Gideon pushed himself upright, eyes falling to his half–buttoned shirt. “Not really. I just haven’t had much chance to tame it yet.”
Celestine’s expression was a mix of disbelief and exasperation.
Still so stubborn?
But she let it go. There were too many questions about the past, and she wasn’t sure how to ask them now–why he’d been out there in the first place, why he’d vanished from her life after that day…
Too much time had passed, and too much had changed.
She watched as Gideon slowly did up the buttons on his shirt, then finally managed to speak. “Sorry–I was about to give you CPR just now.”
His hand paused mid–motion. “Pity I woke up too soon.”
She blushed furiously. “I’m not that kind of person!”
Sure, she’d clung to him for warmth in that cave all those years ago, but she’d been just a child–and freezing. There’d never been anything improper about it.
Gideon glanced up, gave her a look that said, “I know,” and let the subject drop.
Celestine bit back all the protests she wanted to make.
Instead, she followed him, finally taking a moment to look around the island where they’d come ashore.
It looked like a fishing village, with only a few scattered houses in the distance.
Gideon pointed at one of the homes, smoke curling from its chimney. “Let’s go check it out.”
Celestine nodded and hurried after him–just in time to see him stumble.
Something wasn’t right.
She slowed her pace, then glanced down and saw the left leg of Gideon’s trousers soaked through with blood.
“Mr. Prescott, you’re hurt!”
He barely spared it a glance. “It’s nothing–just a scratch.”
But that “scratch” made Celestine’s stomach lurch.
She insisted on letting him lean on her shoulder, supporting his weight as he hobbled forward.
“No more playing tough! If that wound gets worse, we’re not exactly near a hospital!” Celestine scolded, her voice firm and unyielding.
Gideon could only give her a look of resigned defeat and let her help.
