EDGE OF DAY

CHAPTER TWENTY

"Ed..." 

Only days ago she'd agonized over whether to continue struggling to sustain their relationship or let it go. Now she knew everything they'd shared was a lie. A false memory. The real Ed abandoned her at a motorway café, walked off into the deserted countryside with no explanation. The real Ed had kept her as a prisoner, punishing her for Monday's betrayal.

Ed's chair stopped swinging. His bodyguard, aware of the shift, turned, stun gun aimed at Day.

"Day..." The smallest hitch of emotion entered Ed's voice, but then he spun his chair, and cold threat lurked behind his eyes. "How lovely to run into you like this. Or is it Monday?"

He sprung up from his chair and circled around her like a panther. "I'm sorry about leaving you like that in the road café. All fragile and confused. You reminded me of a little lost kitten that I couldn't take home."

She stared at him without flinching.

"And now the kitten has claws."

She thought if she ever met Ed again, she'd want to vomit. He'd mocked her, used her, emotionally guilt-tripped her into continuing their insidious life as a couple. But standing before him didn't fill her with fear or anger. Monday had been cruel. Monday had instigated the deception and manipulation. How could she blame Ed, when Monday had used him from the beginning?

Ed's bravado vanished as he realized it was having no effect. "Well, I was hoping it would be Monday standing before me and not you. I didn't want to put you through this."

Put her through what? Her stomach tightened. What had he prepared for her now?

He cocked his head and listened to something on his earpiece. Then he raised his arm and spoke into his wrist piece. "Bring him up."

They'd found Will. Day didn't move. Ed stared at her, and she looked ahead. It's just a dream, she told herself. Nothing to fear but fear itself.

Will wasn't the only one who taught that the external world was a mirror to the mind or consciousness. The notion lay at the root of several of the world's oldest religions. She held onto the idea, strengthened herself with it.

The two men who'd searched the pods appeared, dragging Will's rigid body. He looked like a wax-work model with closed eyes.

"Hope you weren't relying on him too much for help," Ed sneered.

They dropped Will on the metal deck near her feet. His head clanged as it bumped, but he didn't stir. Not good.

"Now what?" She arched an eyebrow, faking cocky.

"Now for the moment of truth."

The hairs on her arms and the back of her neck shot up. Her eyes opened wider, every cell in her body springing to full alertness.

Ed's lackeys vanished, and a door to the side of the captain's deck opened. A woman stepped through.

Bewildered, Day gaped at the slender, five-feet-seven figure. She hadn't laid eyes on her sister for five years. Apart from the hair, the two of them were strikingly similar—green eyes, pale skin, wide forehead, and high cheekbones. In the years since their parents died, Day must have grown in Amber's likeness, but without seeing her sister, she'd never realized it.

"Hello." Amber smiled, oozing the same air of mystery she'd always had, even when Day was a kid and Amber was a teenager, vanishing in and out of their family home.