Chapter 5

For a single, silent moment, the entire world stopped.

The pain in my arm faded. The jeering faces of my classmates blurred into the background. My parents. They were here.

A wave of relief so powerful it almost buckled my knees washed over me. It was over.

Jaxson's face was a picture of disbelief, then dawning horror. "Parents? But... you're going away?"

I didn't answer him. I pushed myself to my feet, my eyes fixed on the door, on the escape it represented.

"Wait, Eva!" He reached for me, his fingers brushing against my good arm. His touch was hesitant, almost fearful. "Don't go. Please. I can protect you here. I promise."

I finally looked at him, really looked at him. I let all the coldness I felt show in my eyes. "Protect me? You knew. You knew Brinley and her friends were tormenting me this whole time, didn't you?"

He couldn't meet my gaze. He looked down at the floor, a flush of shame creeping up his neck. "Yes," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper.

A harsh, raw laugh escaped my throat. The sound was ugly, but it was real. He had stood by and watched it all, drowning in his own guilt and weakness, only stepping in when he thought I was the one crossing a line.

I raised my good hand and slapped him across the face. The crack echoed in the silent room.

"You are pathetic," I spat.

"How dare you!" Brinley shrieked, her own drama forgotten in a blaze of fury. "He's a Blake! You can't touch him, you piece of trash!"

She lunged at me. I didn't even flinch. I simply stuck out my foot, tripping her, and as she fell forward, I kicked her hard in the back of the knee. She went down with a cry of pain.

Before she could recover, I grabbed her hair again and dragged her back to the mop bucket. I shoved her face into the filthy water one more time, for good measure.

"I warned you about saying my name," I hissed, my voice shaking with a rage that had been buried for two lifetimes.

"Jaxson! Help me!" she gurgled, her voice choked with water and terror.

But Jaxson just stood there, frozen, his hand on his stinging cheek. He looked like a ghost, completely paralyzed by the unfolding chaos he had caused.

"Eva?"

A woman's voice, hesitant and full of a love I hadn't heard in decades, called my name from the doorway.

All the strength went out of me. I let go of Brinley, who collapsed to the floor in a sobbing heap.

I turned.

And there they were. My mother, Catherine Kennedy, looking just as I remembered from the old photos, with the same sharp blue eyes and determined chin that I saw in my own reflection. My father, Richard Kennedy, stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder, his face a mask of worry. They were titans of the tech world, powerful and brilliant, and they were my parents.

In my first life, they died in a plane crash before they ever found me. A sob caught in my throat. This time, they were real. They were here.

My mother's eyes scanned the scene-the mop bucket, a weeping Brinley, a stunned Jaxson. Then her gaze landed on me, on my unnaturally bent arm, the bruises on my face.

A choked cry escaped her lips. "Oh, my baby."

She stumbled forward, tripping over her own feet in her haste to get to me. She didn't care about her elegant suit or the polished floors. She fell to her knees in front of me, her hands hovering over my broken arm, afraid to touch me.

Tears streamed down her face as she pulled me into a fierce, desperate hug. "We found you," she whispered into my hair, her body shaking. "Oh, God, we finally found you."

My father was there a second later, his strong arms wrapping around both of us, creating a fortress of love and safety I had only ever dreamed of.

I was home.