The heat of his body seeping into mine, the familiar scent of his skin, the softness of his touch even when he’s urgently sweeping me left and right... it all helps center me amidst the chaos, As long as he’s close, I’m in control of myself. I’m okay. Itrusthe’ll get me out alive.
But whenever he pulls the trigger, whenever he pulls me in to face him and I’m confronted by the cool, calculated look in his eyes, my assumptions fall apart.
This isn’t Nash.
This is Carter. A ruthless killer who hid behind a mask.
Still, I move. I let him guide me because, despite his foreign actions, hefeelsfamiliar. Whatever he wants from me can’t be worse than the past eight days.
Bodies drop with sickening thuds all around. Blood spatters the walls and my heart gallops so fast it’s not far off breaking out of my chest. Everybangtightens the invisible rope cinched around my throat.
I’m shaking. Tears sting my eyes, but I grit my teeth, swallow the fear, and react to Carter’s every nonverbal command.
“Stay down!”he snaps, taking a firm stance as I pool at his feet behind a couch.
The deafening atmosphere grows worse when a car bursts through the window, raining glass shards across the room.
“Get in!”someone yells as the car screeches to a halt against the thick Persian rug I’m cowering on.
Bullets ping off the exterior and I scramble upright, desperate to get out and hide. I don’t manage two steps before a scream pierces the air.Myscream, caused by blinding pain.
The images dissolve, hissing out of my mind, the deafening gunshots replaced by still silence. No men, no guns, no blood, just a bedroom bathed in orange light.
My heart slams against my ribcage like a caged bird, and fear lingers, thick and suffocating.
My breath hitches, panic surging through me in icy waves when I try to sit up and can’t move. Not one finger. I can’t even open my lips to inhale a deep breath. My mind’s a whirlwind of images flashing like a strobe light... guns, blood, the cold, dark room with thirty beds, the Napoleonic rug, crystal chandeliers, violet head bobbing up and down...
Dr. Seymour’s advice echoes in the depths of my subconscious, a lifeline in the storm.“Breathe, Hailey. Slowly, on the count of four.”
I silently chant those words, my breath sawing in and out so loud it ricochets off the walls while I fight to calm down.
One...
Two...
A whimper slips past my lips, shattering my focus. It pulsates through the silent room, simultaneously muffling the fireworks explodingin my head. It’s enough that I recognize where I am.
Safe house.
With Nash.
No. Not Nash.Carter.
Carter who murdered a dozen men as if it was nothing. Tears slide down my cheeks, gaining momentum in time with the words barely slipping past my lips.
One...
Two...
Three...
Another wail tears my chest wide open. I escaped hell, but I have no idea where I’ve ended up. How safe am I with a liar?
My pulse pounds my ears, my chest constricts, and my lungs swell as if they’re filling with water.
The door to the bedroom bursts open, sending my heart rhythm sky-high. It bangs against the wall as Nash storms inside, gun drawn... No, not Nash.Carter, eyes cutting across the room, scanning the space before they shift to mine.
“What happened?” He swiftly holsters his gun and in three long steps, he’s beside me. “What’s wrong, Hailey?” There’s a barely perceptible tremor in his voice that betrays he’s worried.
