“My living-hide, my business.” My grip on the handset tightens, knuckles bone-white. “Don’t even think about fucking with what’s mine.”
24
SKYLAR
Hands clenching and unclenching. My breath is ragged. Heated.
It’s killing me to wait here for Knox without knowing what’s going on.
My gut tells me something’s wrong.
But what?
He peeked in here earlier and then left. I got so mad when he closed the door behind him, so nervous that I jumped to my feet and haven’t been able to sit down since.
My feet carry me across the basement floor, back and forth, over and over. I’m sure I’ve worn a path into it.
What’s taking him forever?
The question plays on a loop in my head.
At least he’s alive and not fighting anyone upstairs. I hear his low, grumbly voice right outside the door.
I hope it stays that way.
As big and terrifying as he is, if they decide to execute him for protecting me, they could likely manage it.
They’re four bloodthirsty adults against the two of us.
The longer he’s up there, the more agitated I become. My teeth disturb my bottom lip.
All my senses home in on the damn door.
On him.
I keep waiting.
Waiting.
Waiting.
“Fuck,” I groan. “Fuck.”
I have to do something else besides pace.
Like get ready in case they bring the fight to us.
I rush to the table and pull on one of Knox’s shirts and a pair of his sweatpants that hang four sizes too big. Even when I yank the drawstrings tight, they slide right back down, so I roll the waistband until it finally stays in place.
Now what?
Wait some more?
My fingers twitch at my sides.
I need to put them to good use. I need my arms wrapped around Knox.
And since he isn’t here, I do the next best thing. Pace and braid my hair. Unbraid it. Braid it. Unbraid?—
