Then he turns to me.
And smiles.
It’s the same smile that once made me fall for him. That practiced charm, the one that used to melt me before I learned what it really meant.
He crouches in front of me, cupping my chin in his hand. His grip is soft, but it still feels like a shackle. “You look tired,” he says. “You’ve lost weight. You don’t eat when I’m not around, do you?”
I jerk my head away. “Let me go, Travis.”
“Can’t.” He stands and starts pacing. “You belong with me, Bunny. You always did. I forgave you for leaving once, but I won’t do it again.”
“I don’t belong to you,” I say, voice shaking.
He stops, turns. “You think that guy—what’s his name, the mountain man? Nate? You think he’s better than me?” His tone sharpens. “He’s not. He doesn’t understand you like I do. He’ll move on. He probably already has. You think men like him stick around for long?”
“He’s not you,” I whisper. “That’s what matters.”
His jaw tightens. He grabs my arm again, squeezing hard enough to make me wince. “Careful, Bunny.”
My heart pounds so hard I can barely hear him over the sound of my pulse. I glance around the room—no phone, no window that opens, no weapon within reach. My mind’s racing, cataloguing everything, every weakness, every exit that doesn’t exist.
He lets go suddenly, muttering to himself as he pulls out his phone. “We’re leaving the country tonight. Got it all set. Off the grid for real this time.”
I freeze.
He walks to the window, peeking through the curtain while dialing someone. His voice drops low, conspiratorial. “Yeah, I’ve got her. Took longer than I thought, but she’s with me. Yeah, yeah, I know what I said—I’ll pay you when we cross. Plane leaves at six. Make sure the route’s clean. No cops.”
He laughs, a horrible, quiet sound that makes my skin crawl.
“Yeah, she’s fine. Just scared. She’ll come around.”
My throat closes. I bite back a sob, trying not to let him hear me. But one tear escapes, sliding hot down my cheek. Then another.
By the time he hangs up, I can’t stop them.
He turns back, seeing it, and for a second—just a second—he looks almost regretful. “Don’t cry,Bunny. We’ll be happy again. You’ll see.”
Happy.
The word cracks something open in me.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, silent, trying not to tremble, praying for Nate.
Please,I think.Please be alive. Please come for me.
Because if he’s gone—if I really lost him out there in the snow—then this time, no one’s coming.
And I’m right back where I started.
A cage.
A man who calls control love.
And a hope that’s hanging on by its last thread.
12
Nate
