“I can’t.” His voice broke, sounding so desperate that it almost made me pause. “I need to keep you safe.”
He sounded on the verge of tears. But I couldn’t stop fighting. With all the strength I had in me, I used my legs to push off the floor. He stumbled back into the wall with a heavy thump. That iron grip loosened slightly, and I twisted my body, dropping back toward the floor and slipping out of his grasp yet again.
I lurched forward, half crawling, half stumbling away from him. The front door was so close now. I reached for it—
An arm wrapped around my neck, locking tight. I clawed at his forearm, at his elbow, kicked back as hard as I could. He applied pressure, squeezing until the world tipped.
“Stop fighting me,” he hissed, breath hot in my ear. “I’m trying to help you.”
My lungs burned. Everything blurred as he held me in the headlock, cutting off the blood to my brain.
There was a roaring in my ears. My fingers went numb. My knees buckled.
I didn’t want to go. I tried to hold on.
But then everything went black.
ThenextthingIwas aware of was motion. A flash of light and then darkness again.
I was being dragged. Arms were hooked under my shoulders, legs scraping along. My heels thudded against wooden…stairs?
My eyelids fluttered. “Ash…?”
He didn’t answer, tightening his grip.
Pain bloomed in my throat—a dull ache that pulsed with every heartbeat.
I tried to twist away. My fingers curled weakly, searching for something to hold onto. There was nothing.
Everything felt like it was spinning, like I couldn’t get a grasp on the real world.
The next time I woke, it was colder.
The air was damp and heavy. My cheek was pressed to rough concrete; the scent of dust and mildew filled my nose.
I groaned.
Footsteps scuffed nearby, and a door screeched shut with a metallic clang that echoed around me.
A lock clicked.
I shifted and blinked against the dim overhead light. As my vision cleared, I realized I was inside an unfamiliar room. It wasn’t large—barely enough space to pace ten steps in any direction. The walls were almost…padded? Not with cushions or foam, but layered with soft material meant to muffle sound. There were no windows—just one heavy, metal door.
Nothing else was in the room but a stained mattress, and a plastic bucket in the corner.
Terror slammed through me. I lurched upright, heart hammering as I took it all in.
Then, I saw him.
Ash sat in a folding chair by the door, hunched forward, elbows on his knees. He was so pale. Sweat glistened on his forehead and darkened the collar of his shirt.
“You’re all right,” he said, more to himself than to me.
“No, I’m not,” I snapped, dragging myself upright against the nearest wall. My limbs shook. “What is this? Where are we?”
If it were possible, he went even paler.
“This isn’t for long, Skye.” He nodded, as if to reassure himself. His eyes were wide, almost frantic. Nothing like the dull detachment I’d seen earlier. “You just need to be here until you realize that it’s best if we’re together. That you’re safest here. This is your home.”
