Repeat.
It’s a boring, mind-numbing cycle. One I’m desperate to escape.
Desperate to get away from Sovereigns.
From Priest.
I tug on a pair of leggings and one of Arsen’s oversized shirts and step out. The second I hit the kitchen, nausea kicks in. My stomach begs for food, but my brain recoils at the idea. The smell. The texture. It all makes me want to throw up. It’s been that way for days.
Wolff’s at the table, cleaning a gun. At the far end is a stale, half-eaten container of fries. I sit down anyway and start picking at them, forcing myself to chew. They taste disgusting, but I need to get something in me that isn’t a pill or water.
Raze walks in, gives me a quick glance, then launches into conversation with Wolff—something about an extraction plan for Dalton and Alistair. Great, more Sovereigns. I catch pieces but I’m not paying attention. My mind’s drifting somewhere else.
To my father.
Alive.
I never got to say goodbye. Sovereigns stormed the house in the middle of the night. He shoved me into the panic room and sealed it shut. Told me not to come out until he came for me.
I waited. Waited until hours turned into days.
Until the food and water ran out.
He never came back.
Now he’s out there. Somewhere. Breathing. And all I can do is sit here. Wait again. My throat tightens as memories flood my mind.
His final words echoing in my head?—
“You were the last good thing I ever did, firecracker. I love you.”
My fingers graze my necklace. I miss him so much it feels like a blade twisting between my ribs. I push back from the table. I can’t sit here a second longer.
I walk for the door, punching in the code I watched Arsen use. I just need air. Space. One fucking minute where I’m not surrounded by testosterone and violence. I need out before I crack.
The lock clicks?—
A hand clamps around my arm and yanks me back.
My skin ignites. I don’t have to look up. My chest tightens, lungs refusing to work.
“Not so fast, kitten.”
He smells like soap and mint. His hair’s still damp from a shower.
“Get your hands off me.” I rip my arm free and spin around, holding my ground. “What the fuck do you want?”
His eyes slowly drag over me, lingering on the oversized shirt I stole from Arsen’s drawer. His jaw ticks. Then he looks back at my face—stopping on the necklace around my throat.
“Stop staring at me, you psycho.”
From behind him, Raze chuckles. “Looks like your little stray found her bark again.”
Priest doesn’t take his eyes off me.
“You’re on lockdown.”
I snort. “You don’t own me. I’m going out.”
