The Lost Years by Natalie Shaw Read Free Book Online Page A

footsteps—coming closer.
    The door to the cabin swung open.
    “Hi,” Marlow said.
    I tried to speak, but the words died in my throat.
    “Can I come in?” he said.
    I nodded—still unable to speak.
    During the early years, I'd tried every trick in the book to lure one of my guards into the enclosure. I'd planned my attack in minute detail. Once I'd overpowered them, I'd make my escape, and then find Craven. That seemed so long ago. Escape wasn't something which even crossed my mind now.
    This was my opportunity. Marlow was only a few feet away. He was a strong shifter, but I'd be in with a chance in a fight. So why didn't I attack?
    “I don't understand. Why—?” I managed at last.
    “It's been fifteen years,” he said.
    “I know.”
    “Fifteen years is a long time. Even for shifters.”
    “Are you going to let me go?”
    “I can't. You know that. I wish I could—”
    “So why this?”
    “I thought it was time. I consider you a friend. I hope you feel the same way.”
    “I'm a prisoner. You're the one holding me captive. How can we be friends?”
    “I don't know, but it feels to me like we are.”
    “What will you do if I try to take the key from you?”
    “I won't let you,” he said. “You know that.”
    “You'll fight me?”
    “If needs be—yes.”
    “Even if that means dying?”
    “You're confident you'd win in a fight?” He managed a weak smile.
    “Against you. Easily.”
     
    It was true. I did consider him a friend of sorts. My only friend. Stockholm Syndrome no doubt. If I tried to escape, he'd stand in my way. In a fight to the death, I wasn't sure which of us would survive, but there would be no winners. Even if I managed to overpower him without striking a fatal blow, he'd face certain death from Milton for allowing my escape. 
    “Did you bring my food?”
    “It's outside. I brought extra today. I thought we could have a picnic.”
    I brushed passed him to take a look outside. Sure enough, there was a picnic basket—much larger than the usual food basket.
    “I have wender berry pie,” he said.
    “What?” I almost gagged at the very thought of it.
    “Just kidding.” He laughed. “I used to love wender berries until I was given this assignment.”
    “Is that what I am to you? An assignment?”
    He frowned. “You know that isn't true.”
    I took a look inside the basket.
    “What do you think?” he said.
    “You've really pushed the boat out.” I held up a bottle of Champagne.
    “It's only a cheap one.”
    “What exactly are we celebrating? My fifteen years of incarceration?”
    “Friendship.”
     
    We laid a blanket on the grass around the back of the cabin. That side got the best of the sun at that time of day. My usual food rations were perfectly edible, but often bland and predictable. Today's picnic was anything but.
    “That was delicious,” I said.
    “Here's to friendship.” Marlow made a toast. He'd brought real Champagne glasses.
    “To friendship.” I clinked my glass to his. “And freedom.”
     
    Marlow stayed much longer than usual. It was almost three in the afternoon by the time he began to pack away the picnic basket.
    “Will you come inside the fence again next time?” I asked.
    “Do you want me to?”
    “Yes.” I gave him a peck on the cheek.
    He looked stunned and a little embarrassed. I only just managed to stifle a laugh as he fumbled the cutlery.
    As he walked to the gate, it crossed my mind that I could still rush him and take my chances. I didn't. Instead, I waved him off as he disappeared into the woods.
     
    For the longest time after he'd left, I tried to make sense of the day's proceedings. Marlow's actions had been unexpected, but what had really confused me had been my response. This had been the opportunity I'd been waiting for so many years. Why hadn't I taken my chance and tried to escape? So what if I'd had to kill Marlow in the process? He was my captor. He was my enemy.
    The more I thought about it, the less sense it made. I