I breathe out a heavy sigh as the last of my fear seeps out of me. “Thanks. And I won’t tell anyone about what happened either.”
Silence falls over us, and it’s getting harder to keep my eyes open with each passing second.
“I don’t think I can stay awake,” I tell him groggily.
“Yeah, same.” He sounds as exhausted as I feel.
He shifts away from me, and the loss of his body heat and presence sends a wave of icy dread and fear through me.
“I need to lie down,” he says before I can lose my shit. “I’m about to pass out.”
The rustle of his clothes on the floor and the soft huffs of our breaths are the only sounds in the room, and more of that cold fear seeps into me as the overwhelming fatigue surrounding me like a haze makes it hard to think straight.
“Lie down with me,” he says sleepily. “Back to back.”
It takes a second to fully register what he said, and I find myself scooting away from the wall before I’ve even made the decision to move.
It takes a lot of feeling around, but I manage to lie beside him and settle so our backs are pressed together.
The solid warmth of him instantly soothes my nerves, and I let out a contented sigh as more of that unnatural exhaustion wraps around me.
Xave’s answering sigh makes me smile, and I don’t fight the fatigue that takes over as I drift off to sleep.
Slam.
I jerk awake at the crash of wood hitting something hard, the loud noise yanking me out of sleep with all the gentleness of an anvil to the face. Bright light fills the room, and I blink against the sudden assault as I try to open my eyes so I can see what the hell is going on.
“What the fuck?” I mumble, my voice thick and hoarse as I try to shake off the disorientation from being jarred out of sleep like that.
Xave is already sitting up when loud footsteps ring out, and my chest squeezes with terror when three masked men wearing all black spill into the room.
Xave shifts so he’s in front of me as I struggle to sit up, my mind reeling as I try to process what the hell is going on.
“How the fuck did you get free?” one of the masked men asks in a growly voice that doesn’t sound natural.
“Don’t even think about moving,” another of the men says, raising a sleek, black handgun and pointing it right at Xave.
“Hands up,” another one says. It’s hard to tell who’s talking with their masks on, but they’re all using that same growly tone, like they’re trying to hide their real voices.
“Do you want us to put our hands up, or not move?” Xave asks, his voice light and conversational.
I flick my gaze to his back. How the hell does he sound normal right now?
“Hands up,” one of them repeats.
Xave slowly lifts his hands. I do the same, only instead of moving slow and casual like him, mine go up like someone zapped me with electricity and activated my “arms up” switch.
“On your knees.”
We shift so we’re kneeling.
“Hands on your heads.”
We both obey.
The two men without guns advance on us, and it takes everything in my power to not recoil from them or shriek in terror.
One man grabs Xave by the arms, and the other grabs me. His grip is tight and rough as he yanks me to my feet and wrenches my arms behind my back.
