The Detective's Damsel

xxiii.

CORINNA WATCHED THE blood trickle down her knuckles, slow as a lazy, winding river. The stiff, black bag hung in front of her, swimming in and out of focus with her consciousness. Ace's words from the previous night ate at her. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see him there—inches away—with that same cold sneer and scalding words.

She flung her fist at the bag, hissing as pain sizzled through her, white-hot and unforgiving. It was early—too early—but sleep would not have come to her even if she begged. And if it did, it would have been nightmare after nightmare. Her solution was to drag herself to the recreational center, find an object that did not have complicated buttons, and let out some steam. Whether that method was working was still unclear.

A puff of cool air blew against the back of Corinna's neck as the door to the room swung open. The tiny hairs along her arms stood on end as she turned, ready to face the worst.

But the person standing in the doorway was not Ace coming to finish what he started. It was Knight. His dark eyes widened when he recognized her. Corinna observed him silently, the way his right eye was slightly puffy and rimmed with darkened skin, how bruises were riddled across the wide expanse of his arms, how he looked as if he had gotten as little sleep as she had.

"Corinna?" He asked. "I...didn't expect to see you here."

Corinna pulled her eyes away, suddenly self-conscious. She slid her hands under her armpits, hiding the ring of irritated skin around her wrists and her bleeding hands. "Yes," she said finally. "I, um, I couldn't sleep."

Knight nodded, striding inside and letting the door fall shut behind him. He rolled to a stop a few feet away, slid a small drawstring bag from his shoulder onto the floor, and rummaged through it. His back was to her, muscles stretched taut beneath the tight material of his shirt. "Still having those nightmares?"

Corinna froze, heart racing, before remembering that he had witnessed her in the middle of one. He could not know about what Ace did—not yet, anyway. He would not be this calm if he did. "I have not been getting enough sleep to tell," she said eventually, surprised that it was the truth.

"Right." Knight pulled a pair of black gloves out of the bag and slid his fingers into them. "If it means anything to you, I talked to Ryan about them. The night terrors, I mean."

"And?" Corinna asked, pressing her hands tighter against her sides.

Knight turned back around, pulled the straps of the gloves tight, and flexed his fingers. "He said the machine requires a lot of energy but doesn't interact with our body's natural brain waves at all. If you're having night terrors, it isn't because of time travel."

Corinna let out a slow breath, dropping her hands to her sides. She had assumed as much. But if what Knight was saying was the truth, the dreams were manifestations of her subconscious thoughts and fears. Which meant her subconscious believed her sister to be a serial killer.

"Whoa, hey." Knight's tone was laced with something thick, like concern, as he made his way steadily toward her. "Is that blood on your hands?" Oh, no. Before she could even think about responding, Knight took them in his, her fingers slim and cracked in his large hands. He hummed under his breath. "Corinna, how long have you been down here?"

"Maybe an hour?" Corinna allowed him to fuss over her for a moment more, but a moment turned into much longer when he noticed the ring of red around her wrists. Remnants—temporary scars—from the night before. Ace's way of reminding her of his strength.

Knight's fingers tightened around hers. "Your wrists. That—that wasn't me, was it?" The feel of his gaze was hesitant, tentative. Corinna drew her face up to meet his eyes. Though he sounded concerned, his expression was unreadable like usual.