Don’t want to.
Her body fits mine too well. Her scent, her skin, her heartbeat under my hand…
“You’re mine,” I whisper into her hair, my lips brushing her temple. “I don’t care if you fucking hate me, Arlo. You’re mine.”
And I’ll make sure you never forget it.
My head feels dazed as I slowly wake up, my lashes fluttering against my cheek. My entire body aches, stiff and sore.
My thighs throb.
Still caught in that hazy in-between, I fumble for the nightstand, fingers searching blindly. My hand hits the bottle, and it clatters to the floor.
“Shit.”
I throw off the sheet, sit up, and reach down with a wince, twisting my useless fingers around the plastic cap. I swallow two pills, dry, and lean back, trying to breathe as the haze starts to lift.
Something feels…off.
The sound of multiple boots echoes down the hallway, with urgent and loud voices.
What the hell?
I move to the door, pressing my ear to the wood. Shadows flicker underneath. My pulse spikes. The fog clears instantly—adrenaline wiping it out.
Before I can react, the door slams open.
“What the—!” I jerk back.
Priest storms in, his eyes feral.
“We need to move. Now.”
“What are you talking about?” I grab a hoodie and shove it over Arsen’s shirt.
He closes the space between us in two strides, grabs my arm. I rip it free.
“Hey! I asked you a question?—”
He crowds me until my back is against the wall. “Listen, and listen fucking carefully. The Sovereign found us. We need to move.” His hand clamps my chin, forcing my eyes up. “Did you take something?”
“What?”
He glances at the nightstand. His jaw ticks. “You did.”
“I needed the pain pills, asshole.”
“You can’t fucking shoot if you’re high.”
“I’m not high,” I snap, even though I kind of am.
“It doesn’t matter. We need to go. Now.”
Before I can argue, he grabs me and hauls me into the hall. Men in full gear rush past, weapons locked and loaded.
“Move.” He shoves me forward into the armory. I stumble, head spinning. Then he throws a vest at me. “Put this on.”
He’s already strapping it to my body before I can react, his fingers digging into my waist. I hiss, the stitches in my back tugging.
