“Um, yeah, hi.”
I’ve never seen Mallorie flustered before. I guess there’s a first time for everything. As soon as Augusto walks away, Mallorie pans to me, her mouth contorted into an actual ‘o.’
I glare at her before jerking my head toward Paige. Now is not the time.
“Where’s your dad?” Mallorie asks, then I realize that as far as she knows, he’d sent for Paige, quite innocently.
Paige sobs and curls into me.
Mallorie looks up, concerned.
“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you everything soon,” I say. “Who’s the guy?”
Mallorie rolls her eyes. “Someone named ‘Arrow’.” She puts finger quotes around the name. “I mean, what kind of a name is that?”
“I can hear you,” comes a dangerous voice from several feet away.
“Good,” Mallorie snaps. “Saves me having to repeat myself.”
I turn to her and raise my brows, pointedly.
“He manhandled me into a car,” she clips.
“You were being difficult.”
“Difficult?” she says, her jaw falling open as she spins around to glare at him. “I was merely asking who you were and why on earth I had to accompany a man I’ve never met in my life to a blacked out vehicle.”
“I didn’t have time to explain.”
Mallorie huffs. “Tell that to the judge.”
The man’s eyes dart to me. “She always this hotheaded?”
I bite back a smile but nod.
“You could have just tried harder to explain,” Mallorie snaps.
Arrow lifts a brow. “I don’t do explanations.”
Mallorie huffs again, folding her arms. “You don’t do smiling either, apparently.”
A beat passes, then—almost imperceptibly—the corner of his mouth twitches.
Augusto watches the exchange for a moment, then turns to me.
“You and Paige take the room at the end of the hall,” he says gently. “It’s quiet and the bed is all made up. There’s a secure bolt on the door—for some extra peace of mind.”
The word secure should comfort me, but instead, it makes my chest ache.
He crouches slightly in front of Paige, his voice softening in a way that makes my heart twist. “You’re safe here. No one will touch you. Not now. Not ever.”
Paige nods, studying him with wide, searching eyes.
Then he straightens and flicks his gaze to mine as everyone else diverts theirs.
“Are you going back to Winter Pines?” I ask, every bone in my body praying he isn’t.
“I have to,” he says firmly. “There are still loose ends at the retreat. People who’ll be looking for answers.”
