My hands shake as I stare down the darkened hallway. Ruin’s silhouette slowly fading before coming to an abrupt halt.
“Hey,” he says softly, facing me. “It’s nothing bad, I promise.”
I sigh heavily and continue following him. The moment we cross his room, I exhale a breath of relief.
I can’t face that room. Not tonight—when the hands that curled around my throat are currently gesturing to me to follow him.
We reach the door next to his, and he unlocks it before throwing me a quivering smile.
My eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the light. At a low setting, I’m blinking hard to comprehend what I’m seeing. Surely, I’m hallucinating, right? There’s no way there’s a living room with a massive kitchen staring at me right now.
Inside the damn clubhouse.
“This used to be Hound’s room,” Ruin rumbles from behind me, and I realize my feet have carried me inside. “Lana wanted a place of their own so… he gave up this room a few months ago.” He walks over to the kitchen, his hand brushing the counter wistfully. “There was a small kitchenette here. So I… errr… well, I got a pre-made kitchen installed.”
I frown at the familiar design, gulping hard.
“It’s actually the same color cabinets as your home. In Craven Ridge.”
Jesus. I can’t ignore the pleading quality of his voice anymore. The slight hesitant cadence whenever he speaks.
My gaze snaps toward him. “What’s this about?”
He sniffs. Then clears his throat, twice. “Well, you… you weren’t eating, Charlotte,” he says as though it should make all the sense to me.
“What?” When I show no sign of comprehension, he continues. Again—shakily. Who is this man?
“I just—I saw how the… the crowd in the dining area would always make you nervous. The few times I saw you properly eat were at night, or during odd hours when there was no one around. So…”
“What?” I repeat.
He meets my eyes, and his chest moves rapidly through every breath he takes. “This is yours. Your space away from everyone. I soundproofed the hallway facing walls. It’ll be like your own apartment. But close enough so I can—we can—protect you.”
My eyes widen when I see the couch is the same shade of gray as my apartment. The carpet is nearly identical, as is the coffee table.
He clears his throat. “The carpet, TV console, and coffee table are yours. I brought in as much as I could fit in my truck.”
I spin toward him swiftly.What the fuck?I want to hurl insults at him. Laugh at the jittery nervousness he’s displaying, but every venomous instinct dies a brutal death on my lips.
Because—hell—I can actually see it. I can see myself standing behind that counter in silence. Cooking whatever fancies me with my own two hands. Recreating the quiet peace I once built for myself in solitude.
I’ve done it before. I can do it again.
My gaze chooses that exact moment to land on a door that shouldn’t be there. It sits on the wall that should separate this room from Ruin’s.
My stomach drops. Fear rushes through my entire frame as the implication slams into me. Ruin follows my gaze, trying to understand what has suddenly spooked me.
“Charlotte?” he says urgently. “Charlotte, listen to me. Just—just look at the room once, okay? It’s not what you—”
His words fade. Every sound drowns beneath the thick, suffocating dread filling my ears.
I don’t move. Visions begin to creep in—sharp, vivid flashes of memory. Me, naked. Hands around my throat.
My skin starts to itch again, like it did when my bare ass pressed against the cold floor of the clubhouse. Eyes watching my every move.
I remember how thin that jacket felt, how little it covered. And I still can’t remember who the hell gave me that damn thing.
“Please,” I hear Ruin say, closer this time. “Shit. Please come back. I’m sorry. You don’t have to.”
