"Trust you? That's not going to happen," Amara snapped. "Tell me what you're hiding. Please."
"Amara…" he said quietly.
"No! You will tell me. Just tell me!" she shouted.
"I can't," Maxwell said.
"What do you mean, you can't? That's not an answer!" she yelled.
"You need to listen. We have to leave, okay? When we get home, I— I promise I'll explain."
"Why?" she interrupted. "Why are you hiding something?" Her voice broke, desperate.
"I'm trying to protect you," he said.
"Protect me?" she repeated, disbelief flooding her voice. "From what? From you? From your family? Your friends? From what, Maxwell? Like before—when you said you were protecting me then, too?"
"I've always tried to protect you," he said, his voice trembling. "I did it because I love you. I can't let you go through that again. I can't lose you again."
"Look at me, Maxwell," Amara said, stepping closer, her voice shaking. "Do you truly believe you protected me? Is that why you killed Mary?"
Maxwell let out a bitter laugh, his eyes dark. "Yes," he said. Then, after a pause: "Actually, no— I haven't killed her. Not yet."
Amara froze. "What… what do you mean?" she whispered.
"You don't know anything, my love," he said softly.
"What are you talking about?" Amara asked, confused.
"You don't remember anything," Maxwell said, his voice cracking. "
.
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..
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