“Finish eating,” I said instead of answering. “You’ll need your strength.”
Through the walls, a toilet flushed. Tommy, based on the stumbling footsteps that followed. Then Diesel’s door opened, his heavy tread making the whole building groan. They were starting to stir.
Mia glanced at the door, her face losing color like someone had pulled a plug. The apple slipped from her fingers, rolling across the scarred wood floor with a hollow sound that seemed too loud. A tear tracked down her cheek before she could stop it.
“Please don’t put me back in the closet.”
The words came out broken, each one shaking. She pressed her palms against her eyes, shoulders trembling. “I know I need to scream again, I know they expect it, but please—I wouldn’t be able to stand it. Not again. Please.”
I stared at the evidence of yesterday’s panic etched into her skin—the raised welts on her neck where she’d clawed at herself.
“I won’t,” I said fiercely. “I promise. Never again.”
She lowered her hands, hope and disbelief warring in her expression.
But I knew I couldn’t allow it to be too quiet and peaceful in here either. Snake would notice. Snake always noticed. If Coopsuddenly went soft on his new toy, questions would be asked. Questions answered with bullets.
“But we need to make some noise,” I said, moving closer to her. “Different kind of noise.”
Her whole body went rigid.
“Self-defense moves,” I clarified quickly. “I’m going to teach you some things, and we’re not going to be gentle about it. Let them think what they want to think.”
Understanding dawned in her eyes—relief mixed with dread. I pulled her to her feet, positioning her in the center of the room.
“First lesson,” I whispered, hyperaware of Snake’s footsteps in the hall. “Go for the eyes.” I demonstrated the motion, fingers forming a V. “Doesn’t matter how big they are, nobody can fight blind.”
I guided her through the motion, then had her try it on me, pulling the strike at the last second. “Harder. Like your life depends on it.”
She tried again, more force this time, and I saw something shift in her expression—not quite confidence, but the beginning of it.
“Throat,” I whispered softly, showing her the precise point. “Or solar plexus if you can reach it. Instep if they’re close.” I grabbed her wrist suddenly, watched her flinch, then showed her how to break the hold. “Twist against the thumb—it’s the weakest point. Use your whole body.”
We moved through the basics, and I didn’t hold back on the contact. When she practiced breaking free from my grip, I let her momentum carry her into the wall with a thud that rattled the cheap mirror. Same for when I showed her how to use her weight against an attacker.
“Knee to the groin,” I instructed, and she brought her knee up fast, stopping just short. The motion carried her backward, and I caught her, swung her around, let her back hit the wallagain. Another thud. “Good. But follow through. Always follow through.”
The sounds carried through the thin walls. I knew exactly what it sounded like to the guys—like I was throwing her around, establishing dominance. The thought made bile rise in my throat, but it kept us both breathing.
“If someone grabs you from behind—” I wrapped my arm around her shoulders, pulling her back against my chest. For a heartbeat, neither of us moved. I could feel her pulse racing against my forearm, quick but steady. The vanilla scent that still clung to her hair made my chest tight with memory. “Stomp the instep, elbow to the ribs, head back to break the nose. All at once.”
She went through the motions, her elbow connecting with my ribs harder than expected. I grunted, genuinely winded.
“Good,” I wheezed. “Again. Harder.”
We were in the middle of another escape maneuver—her twisting out of a hold, using momentum to break free—when footsteps stopped right outside the door. Not passing by like before. Stopping.
Three sharp knocks cut through the room. Snake’s signature.
Shit. He was checking on us. Making sure I was doing what I’d claimed I’d be doing. The room needed to tell the right story—her shirt off, bathroom door cracked, me looking like I’d been interrupted mid-act.
“Shirt,” I hissed, already moving toward the door. “Take it off. Now.”
Her eyes widened, but she understood immediately, yanking her shirt over her head, leaving her in just her bra. The morning light was cruel on the marks covering her arms.
“Bathroom. Go. Pretend like you’re taking a shower.”
She ran for the bathroom, pausing briefly before stumbling inside, closing the door most of the way but leaving it cracked.I grabbed her discarded shirt, tossed it on the bed where Snake would see it, then opened the door.
