It's the closest he's ever been to me, save for when I was strapped to a chair in his basement. I can smell him. He smells like anexpensive cologne and something deeper. No incense or smoke. Just him.
It's nice.
He rubs his forehead. I notice he does that a lot.
"You gave me good intel," he says, looking at me. "So you get a reward. Some fresh air. Come with me."
I blink, stunned. My heart pounds.
I stare at him, unsure if this is a test.
Fresh air.
I haven't been outside since arriving here.
I nod quickly, then stand too fast and almost stumble because my legs are suddenly weak.
Callum rises with me, and for a second we're standing too close, the air between us tight. Then he steps back, turning toward the door.
"Shoes," he says, like he's reminding himself I'm not an animal he can drag barefoot.
"I have them," I say, and move to slip my flats on. My hands tremble as I do it.
Callum opens the door. A guard is there, immediately alert. Callum gives him a look that sends him stepping aside without a word. Another guard appears at the end of the hallway.
I step out, and the hallway feels like a different world after so long trapped in one room.
Callum walks ahead, not touching me, but close enough that if I run, he'll catch me. I can feel it. The control is quiet and absolute.
I follow him down the stairs and through the house I've only seen pieces of. My heart pounds with every step, and my nerves make me cold.
Before I know it, we step outside.
The pool glows in the dark, lit from beneath by soft blue lights. The water ripples gently, reflecting the stars above.
I stop at the edge, staring.
"Can I swim?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.
"No," Callum says. "Just sit for now."
I don't argue. I've learned better than to push.
I sit on the edge of the pool, rolling up my jeans to my knees. I dip my feet into the water, and warmth rushes over my skin. I close my eyes, breathing in the chlorine, the cool night air, the faint scent of grass and earth.
Callum stays back in the shadows, leaning against a pillar. I can feel him watching me. His gun is visible on his hip, the black leather holster catching the light.
A reminder that he is the warden and I'm the prisoner.
I swing my legs slowly through the water, watching the ripples spread outward.
"The water feels like bathwater," I say.
"I had it heated," he says from the shadows.
I look up at him and then turn away to hide my smile, watching the water shimmer.
"I'd be in here every day if this was mine," I say.
