“It’s an improvement.” He strips off his cut and hangs it on the back of the chair. “Titan brought back Chinese. You should eat.”
“Not hungry.”
“You’re always not hungry lately.”
“That’s what being pregnant does. Makes everything taste like cardboard.”
He sits on the edge of the bed and rests his hand on my ankle. “You can’t stay in bed all day.”
“Watch me.”
“Bonnie—”
“I’m fine.”
He’s quiet for a moment, thumb rubbing circles on my ankle bone. “Ash is asking for you.”
“Tell him I’m busy.”
“Doing what? Counting ceiling tiles?”
“There are forty-seven of them. In case you were wondering.”
Ghost stands and moves to the window. Looks out at the compound below. “You should talk to him,” he says.
“Why? So he can tell me no again? So he can remind me I’m carrying precious cargo and need to stay locked up like Rapunzel?”
“So you can stop torturing yourself.”
I sit up. The room spins slightly as I stand up too fast, or maybe it’s just the pregnancy making everything harder. “I’m going to talk to him. Right now.”
“Bonnie—”
But I’m already past him, out the door, down the hallway. My bare feet slap against the wooden floors as I head for the stairs.
Brothers look up as I pass. Miller raises his beer in greeting.
I reach the office and don’t bother knocking. Just push the door open and walk in.
Ash sits behind the massive mahogany desk, paperwork spread in front of him. He looks up when I enter, pen still in his hand.
He looks different sitting there. Younger than Dad ever did, but somehow right. Like the chair was always meant to be his, even though it took a federal arrest to get him here.
Dad’s cigars used to fill this room with smoke. Now it smells like leather and Ash’s cologne.
“Bonnie,” Ash says, setting down his pen. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to leave.”
His jaw tightens. “We’ve talked about this.”
“No. You’ve talked. I’ve listened. Now I’m done listening.” I plant my hands on his desk. “I need to get out of this compound. Today.”
“It’s not safe.”
“It hasn’t been safe for weeks. Months. Since the day Dad tried to marry me off to Marcus.” I lean forward. “When exactly is it going to be safe again, Ash? When the war’s over? When Marcus is dead? That could take years.”
“Then you wait years.”
