He nods toward the bed. “You take it.”
I stare at him. “And you?”
“Floor’s fine.”
He says it like it’s nothing.
“There’s enough room for two people in that bed.”
His eyes lift slowly.
“That’s not the point.”
“Then what is?”
He reaches for the folded blanket and thin pillow he already set near the fireplace.
“It’s a line.”
My chest tightens. “A line. I mean… if you wanted to do something to me, you already would have.”
Sin’s jaw flexes once. “You don’t know me.”
I want to say I know enough. I want to say he put himself between me and men who were ready to buy me like furniture.
Instead, I whisper, “I don’t know who I can trust.”
His gaze holds mine. “Trust the fact that you’re alive and you’re here.”
I swallow hard.
The bed feels like a spotlight. Like sitting on it means admitting this is real.
I move anyway.
The mattress creaks under me, and I pull the blanket over my lap.
Sin lowers himself to the floor with his back against the wall near the fireplace, long legs stretched out. He’s giving me space on purpose. Making sure I can see it.
Outside, wind scrapes through the trees. The cabin settles into the night with little sounds that make my body want to jump.
I hold still and pretend I can.
His phone buzzes once. Sin checks the screen.
“Tank’s still tracking the transport.”
My stomach twists.
The other girl’s face flashes through my head. The empty look. The way she stood under those lights like her soul had stepped out of her skin.
My hands knot in the blanket. “Do you think they’ll find her?”
Sin’s voice stays calm. “Tank doesn’t quit.”
That should comfort me.
Instead, it feels like a prayer.
