But the hands that grab me aren't cold. They're warm.
Strong, large hands wrap around my waist, pulling me away from the darkness. I gasp and twist, expecting Cormac's face, but the man holding me isn't Cormac.
It's Callum.
The woods dissolve. The trees blur, melt, fade like smoke.
The chanting stops and I look around. I'm in a room and I feel safe.
My eyes flutter open and I sit up.
Do I actually feel safe here?
He's my jailer. He's supposed to have been my enemy.
Maybe it's because my brain is desperate, because trauma rewires everything. Because starvation and fear and confusion make you reach for the first warm thing you find, like seeking safety in the man who could kill me with a single word.
It makes me feel weak.
Compromised.
Like I've already lost whatever piece of myself I was trying to hold onto.
Because if I start thinking of Callum Killaney as anything other than my captor, I'll betray the part of me that still insists I deserve nothing good.
Besides, wanting him to save me is the surest way to die.
16
CALLUM
The SUV door shuts behind me as I slide into the back seat. I stare forward at the taillights of the car ahead as we wind through the streets toward the warehouse.
Ryan drives and another guard sits up front. Neither speaks.
One thought loops through my mind, sharp and relentless.
Cormac deserves a slow death.
The kind where he feels every second unraveling, where he watches his world collapse the way mine is collapsing now.
My father, Declan, my sister, even our routes are compromised. I'm the only one who hasn't been touched, yet, anyway.
And in my house, locked in a room, is a girl whose body is a roadmap of every sin her father committed in the name of a goddess who doesn't exist.
I get that he feels he has some right to what was taken from him, but clearly he lost sight of what truly mattered many years ago.
I flex my fingers, turning my head to look out the window, watching the streetlights blur past.
The SUV slows as we pull into the industrial district. We park outside the third building on the left, the one where the goods were taken from.
My men hop out and open my door.
Two guards flank the entrance, straightening when they see me.
"He inside?" I ask.
"Yes, sir."
