Technically, that was my fifth night of skipped sleep. I’m aware humans can’t survive long without it, but that’s why my brain takes those tiny naps. It switches off and regenerates enough to keep me alive.
“No one will enter this room without my permission, Hailey. You can sleep without fear.”
Easy for him to say.
I watched his men fling Jonathan’s lifeless daughter onto the ground like gone-off meat for the dogs. They killed Matthews, dragged me out of the car, and locked me in that dormitory without explanation hours after I learned that the man I fell in love with was lying through his teeth to extract information. And if that’s not upheaval enough, there are guns everywhere and men raping women a few doors down the hall.
Men who didn’t touch me thanks to Blaze...
“No amount of reassurance will make me feel safe,” I say, reminding myself that no matter how helpful and kind he seems, he can’t be trusted.
I made the mistake of trusting men merely because they offered me a little attention before: Alex, then Nash—I’mnotdoing it again.
“But youaresafe,” he insists, pushing away from the wall. “Maybe if I explain why I went above and beyond to acquire you, you’ll understand why nobody here can hurt you without my permission.” He raps the door before taking a few measured steps toward the bed.
“Boss?” Rex enters the room, blocking the frame.
“Let the kitchen know Miss Vaughn’s awake. Have them send painkillers and...” His eyes swing to me, “...how do you take your coffee?”
He’s a big man with an army at his disposal. There’s no need to drug me, he could easily hold me down and do whatever he pleases. He’s got more than enough soldiers to hold me for him.
Drugs would be overkill.
And would he have saved me last night then promised I’d be safe if he was planning to hurt me?
I don’t think so.
“Black...” I say. “Three sugars.” I don’t usually even take one in my coffee, but sugar is energy and I need a boost after five days of surviving on less than the bare minimum. “Please.”
Rex nods, his enigmatic responses becoming quite familiar.
“Get Terrence to stand ground while you rest,” Blaze says as Rex turns, one hand on the handle.
“Yes, Boss.” The door closes silently behind him.
Blaze sits at the foot of the bed, popping the button of his suit jacket and pivoting my way. “Your father planted an undercover spy in Rhett Willard’s ranks,” he starts. “I believe you remember Alex Fletcher?”
“A little.”
“A little is enough. He wasn’t someone worth remembering if I’m being blunt.”
My eyes widen, a boulder lodging in my throat. There’s no rational explanation for this onset of sadness. I shouldn’t feel it,but my brain understands the implications of referring to Alex in the past tense.
“You saidwasn’t... does that mean he’s dead?”
“He is. He died the night of your accident.”
“So he was the driver...” I mumble, my mind whirring. “Do you know what happened?”
“Partly. Rhett found out Alex was working for your father so sent his men after the pair of you. See, earlier that day, Rhett’s daughter committed suicide. Alex dated her so he could drill out information on Rhett, all the while, I believe, maintaining a relationship with you.”
“That’s up for debate. What was her name?”
“Aalyiah.”
My whole body stiffens, the familiar haze taking over as a flashback hits. Relief that my memories aren’t lost for good floods my system, mixed with the feelings eating me that day.
I’m whisked from the mansion to be confronted by Alex in a living room. His blonde hair falls carelessly over his forehead, a waxy quality to his complexion. He’s sprawled on the couch, dark circles framing his eyes, clothes crumpled. I think he’s drunk...
