I cry into her shoulder while Paige rubs my back, and for the first time in three years, I don't feel completely alone.
They stay with me for a while.
Tawny bullies me into eating half the eggs and a piece of toast.
Paige fills the silence with soft chatter—nothing important, just talk about the clubhouse, the other girls, a funny story about Stark getting drunk and trying to fight a vending machine.
It's meaningless and mundane and exactly what I need.
By the time they leave, promising to check on me in the morning, some of the tension has eased from my shoulders.
The room feels less like a prison and more like a sanctuary, but sleep still won't come.
I lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds of the clubhouse below.
Music. Laughter. The rumble of motorcycles coming and going. Life continues on like nothing's wrong.
I think about Cain. About where he is right now. What he's doing. Whether he's looking for me.
He'll come. I know he will.
He'll find out where I am, and he'll come, and no amount of protection will stop him.
He's relentless. Obsessive.
Hewon'tlet me go—not because he loves me, but because I belong to him.
Because letting me go would mean admitting he lost.
You're mine. You're fucking mine.
I shudder, pulling the blanket tighter around myself.
The hours crawl by. Midnight. One a.m. Two.
Somewhere around three, I hear footsteps in the hallway.
My whole body goes rigid.
The footsteps are heavy, purposeful, coming closer.
I sit up in bed, heart hammering, eyes fixed on the door.
The lock is flimsy.
It wouldn't hold against a determined kick.
If it's Cain—if he found me?—
The footsteps stop outside my room.
I can't breathe.
Can't move.
Can't do anything but wait for the door to burst open, for his face to appear, for the nightmare to start all over again.
A soft knock.
