Because some part of me doesn't want out anymore.
Some part of me wants to stay exactly where I am.
"Sleep," he says softly. "Tomorrow is another training day. And we're running out of time."
I close my eyes.
Try to quiet my racing thoughts.
Try to accept what I'm becoming.
And tell myself that the warm feeling in my chest when he holds me is just conditioning.
Just my body responding to care after years of neglect at the Sanctuary.
Not affection.
Not connection.
Not—
Not love.
Because I can't be falling in love with my captor.
Can't be developing feelings for the man who bought me at an auction.
Can't be.
Won't be.
It's just conditioning.
Just Stockholm syndrome.
Just my brain trying to make sense of captivity by romanticizing it.
That's all.
Has to be.
Because the alternative—that I'm actually falling for Vaughn Sutherland, that I actually want to be his, that I'm choosing this instead of just submitting to it?—
That's too terrifying to contemplate.
So I don't.
I just close my eyes and try to sleep.
And tell myself that in seven days, after the showcase, everything will make sense.
Even though I know it won't.
Nothing about this makes sense.
And maybe it never will.
CHAPTER TWELVE
