"Mr. Eriksson and one of the guards. He'll be back in the morning, Mrs. Calder."
I hate that name.
"Don't call me that."
"I'm sorry." She flinches and runs out of the room, towels still in hand.
I stand in the doorway of my son's empty room, counting my breaths.
One. Two. Three.
I want to be with Hale.
Ewan never lets him go anywhere without a reason, not unless he's planning on hurting me. If he sent him away, it's because he doesn't want him in the house tonight.
My hands start to shake.
I press them flat against my thighs until my nails bite skin.
My heart is pounding so hard I feel it thumping all over my body.
Four. Five. Six.
I can't stop my hands from shaking.
I sink down onto Hale's bed—dinosaur sheets smooth and cool beneath me—and press my palms over my mouth, praying to god I can keep the sound in.
This isn't happening.
THIRTEEN
KEIRA
It's been hours with no word. No footsteps outside my door. No knock to summon me downstairs.
Five minutes past ten.
Late enough to slip out, make a quick sandwich, and get back to Hale's room before anyone notices I'm missing. I sleep there most nights now. It's safer, or at least it feels that way.
In Scotland, Ewan and I had separate bedrooms. Here, he's made sure I don't have a space that belongs to me.
He says it's so we can feel more like a family, but that's bullshit. He wants another child, and his bed will freeze before I let him touch me willingly.
The hallway greets me with a chilling silence.
It's too quiet.
A thin prickle ripples across my skin, that old instinct sharpening even as the rest of me feels worn thin.
I used to move through darkness without a thought. I liked the thrill of dangerous situations—that's what I loved most about my job. I was powerful, unstoppable even.
Now every unknown space feels like I'm being pulled underwater.
The two guards normally posted at the east wing are gone. Nomurmured radio chatter. Just empty air where men with guns should be.
The night housekeeper's chair by the service stairs sits pushed in, folded apron on top. There's always someone here. Where is everyone?
I feel a bit better when I step into the kitchen and see someone stacking plates.
