When they drag me back to my cell, my legs won’t hold me. I collapse against the wall, shaking violently.
The lights stay on.
The sound system stays silent.
That’s worse.
I press my forehead to the concrete and choke on the truth burning my throat.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into the emptiness. “I’m so sorry.” Even though I tell them nothing that matters, I still feel guilty.
Down the corridor, I hear a sound.
A chain rattling.
A voice—faint, furious, unmistakable.
“Jonah.”
My breath catches.
Someone knows. They think I told them everything. They don’t know it was nothing.
Someone heard.
And in that moment, the shame is worse than any punishment they ever gave me.
Because I didn’t just break, to them.
I endangered the only man who ever came back for us.
And somewhere above ground—if he’s alive.
Ronan Pierce is moving.
And I pray I didn’t make his job harder.
36
Ronan
Location: Outer Banks, North Carolina — Pre-Dawn
I’m awake before the alert hits.
That’s how I know it’s bad.
No nightmare. No sound. Just a sudden, brutal certainty settling into my chest like a blade.
Something gave.
I sit up slowly, scanning the room out of habit—windows, doors, corners. Lena sleeps beside me, curled on her side, breathing even.
Safe.
For now.
My phone vibrates on the nightstand.
