I follow her as she whips around the corner, darts through a service hallway.
She’s fast.
But I’m faster.
And I’m not going to be taken by surprise again.
I dodge the elbow she throws toward my gut when I get close, gripping the tops of her shoulders and pushing her against the wall. “Stop,” I order when she struggles, when she kicks back at my shins.
Not a surprise, she doesn’t.
But I’m stronger, and this time I don’t hold back on my strength.
I won’t hurt her, but I’m not letting up.
Not until I have some fucking answers.
I shuffle her toward the exit, glad we’re in the quiet corridor so no one can see me all but abducting her.
Her.
Briar.
I can smell her,feelher, see a glimpse of that moonlight hair through the wig that’s been knocked slightly askew.
Not a ghost.
Not a shadow of the past hidden in the darkness of night.
It’sher.
I plant a hand on the door and shove it open, stepping out into the cool spring air.
Then grunt as she kicks back again.
I just tighten my grip and drag her to my car, shoving her into the passenger seat and slamming the door.
Which she tries to immediately open.
I beep the locks, round the hood, and wait until she stops struggling before I unlock the driver’s door to get in, reengaging them behind me.
I turn on the ignition.
Wait.
“Buckle up,” I order.
Arms crossed, she doesn’t move, just glares out the windshield.
“Briar.”
Those arms cross tighter, but she continues playing a statue.
Temper fraying—and templeaching in reminder of the other night—I twist, reaching over the console.
Her flinch fuckingkillsme.
But I can’t afford to let my guard down. Not now. Not here.
