"You said earlier, before I anesthetized you, that you needed help. What exactly did you mean by that?" I asked, unsure where to even begin.

The gun felt heavy in my hands, but I decided not to release the safety. Not yet. After all, he was still handcuffed.

Eryon raised his gaze, his brown eyes seeming to search mine—for what, I didn't know. But his gaze bored into me, as if he could see directly into my soul.

"It's a long story. But you have to trust me," he finally said.

I laughed dryly. "We have time. So you can tell me the long version. But trust me?" I shook...