He was testing me.
Left my door unlocked deliberately.
Waited to see what I'd do.
And I walked right into it.
"Come," he says, gesturing to the room behind him. "Since you're awake anyway."
"I want to go back to my room."
"No, you don't. You want to leave. But since that's not an option, you might as well talk to me."
"I don't want to talk to you."
"Nevertheless."
He disappears back into the room.
I stand there in the foyer, staring at the front door I can't open.
I could try. Could run at it. Pound on it. Scream.
But there's no one to hear.
And Vaughn would just watch with that amused expression until I exhausted myself.
I follow him into the room.
It's a study.
Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. A massive desk. Leather chairs. A fireplace with a fire burning low.
It's warm here. Almost too warm after the cool hallway.
Vaughn is standing by the fireplace.
He gestures to one of the chairs. "Sit."
"I'll stand."
He shrugs. "Suit yourself."
He settles into one of the chairs, crosses one leg over the other, and studies me over the rim of his glass.
I hate how calm he is. How controlled.
At the Sanctuary, when men were angry, they showed it. Raised voices. Red faces. Sometimes fists.
But Vaughn? Vaughn is perfectly contained.
Which somehow makes him more frightening.
"You didn't sleep," he observes.
"How do you know?"
"I've been awake. Listening."
