She unlocked the gates and together they both pushed them open. Miya nearly fell.
“What happened to you?” The older woman wrapped her arm around her.
Miya didn’t have the strength to attempt a show. “There was a man at the market…” She staggered toward the house with the help of the headmistress. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You’re here now. We’ll figure out everything inside where it’s warm.”
Long legs appeared in her vision, illuminated by the light of the expansive front porch. Lance stood at the entrance of the house. In the darkness, his face was a blur, but she recognized his broad shoulders and how he slouched. Hadn’t anyone ever told him to stand up straight?
It was too late for Miya. Too late for Rafferty, for her family, for Bale. But it might not be too late for Lance. Surely the captain didn’t care about him enough to spend time searching. Miya couldn’t say anything with him surveilling the estate. She’d have to find another way to get Lance to leave.
An image of her mother filled her mind. How Miya had always seen in her eyes what she dared not say. Staring at Lance now, she willed him to hear her. Soundlessly, like her mother, she screamed for him to run.
Instead, he came to her. Her heart sank.
For all the awful things Miya had done in her life, she’d never gotten an innocent person killed. If she knew the truth about Lance, she never would have wormed her way into his heart. No wonder the captain didn't tell her but fooled her into winning this man's loyalty through manipulation.
They met at the stairs where the glow of the lights edging the porch highlighted the concerned lines of his expression.
Run.
Miya bit down until her jaw ached, begging him to see what she couldn’t say.
Run!
Calloused fingertips gently trailed where bruises darkened her neck. The hands of a laborer. The captain told the truth.
Lance hadn’t chosen this life, just as Miya hadn’t.
“I’ll call the doctor.” The headmistress rushed up the stairs. “Ensure she makes it in, Mr. Krowe.”
As soon as the other woman cleared earshot, Lance rasped a whisper. “Was it him?”
“The captain said I had to come back.” Her voice sounded so hoarse. “He said he’d kill me if you talked.”
His expression darkened, as though a shadow had fallen over the outdoor lights. “Come on.” Lance reached for her legs.
“I’m fine—”
“When I disappear and get strangled, you can help me.” He waited, eyes pained. “Miya.”
She nodded.
He placed his hand on her back as he slid his arm beneath her legs and lifted her. “You look like you haven’t slept in days.”
Miya was so tired. His embrace felt sturdy. Safe. Despite her impulse to reject his help, she let her head fall against his chest, her muscles unwinding. She didn’t have any more fight left in her. In her mind’s eye, she saw the captain and felt his hand crushing her throat, orchestrating their every move.
“Your side,” she whispered, noticing him wince.
“It's not bad.”
But it still hurt.
In his room, Lance lowered her to his bed, where days ago everything had been different. He hung close, close enough for her to feel him. Not his touch, but his nearness and heat. The captain’s presence felt hard and tense. Aiden suffocated her. Lance was warm and harmless.
Comfort she hadn’t expected softened her chest and quickly hardened into pain. Lance wouldn’t try to hurt her, but that almost scared her more, and to imagine what she may do to him. Miya shifted away from him.
He sat back on his knees, creating distance. “We’ll get a doctor for you.”
