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I slip inside and shut it fast, leaving the light off.
Darkness folds around me. My back collides against metal shelves while the smell of freshly cleaned towels fills the tiny room.
I press a shaking hand over my mouth and try to breathe without making noise. Beneath the door, a blade of light cuts across the floor. I stare at it, waiting for footsteps to pass. Waiting for safety that I’m starting to believe is unattainable.
Seconds drag until they become unreal.
Then a shadow crosses the strip of light.
“You’re wasting your hiding place on me, angel.”
Amusement edges his voice, as if he didn’t just kill a man. The contrast is electric, pulling my curiosity towards him.
The door eases open, casting a warm glow around his tall frame. He leans one shoulder against the jamb with effortless calm, as though murder is the easiest thing he’s done all night.
Then he closes himself inside. Darkness swallows the room again. It shrinks even smaller with him in it.
I can’t see anything, but I feel him. The warmth of his body. The faint rustle of fabric as he moves. The slow pull of his breath directly in front of me.
My hands move on instinct, pushing against the dark until they land on the solid wall of his chest. The contact jolts through me. Heat runs through the firmness of every ripple of muscle.
I gasp and try to escape, but there’s nowhere to go. Shelves press into my back while he keeps coming closer.
His fingertips skim down my arm, finding the scratches left behind. I flinch. The gentleness startles me more than violence would have. A shiver runs all the way to my spine.
“No one will touch you and get away with it,” he says. “You have my word.”
I don’t understand why anyone would vow something like that for me. People don’t protect me. They don’t choose me.
“Why?” I whisper.
His hand slides upward, circling my neck. Not tight, just enough pressure to let me know he feels the frantic pulse racing beneath my skin. Shame burns through me. Every frightened beat gives me away.
“Because,” he says, “you stopped me from ending everything. For that, you have my devotion.”
My tongue won’t shape words. It’s too cramped in here. Too heavy, too dark. It feels like the walls are leaning in. My breaths come fast and uneven, bordering on a panic I can’t control.
It doesn’t make sense. I didn’t save him. I only collapsed in front of him at the right moment.
His touch glides from my throat to my jaw before cupping my face. His thumb brushes across my cheek once.
“Tell me your name.”
I swallow hard. “Zaiya.”
His thumb continues its slow movement against my skin. “Zaiya what?”
Every instinct tells me to stay silent. But instinct hasn’t saved me yet, and his hand is on my face and his body is caging mine and there’s blood cooling somewhere not far from us because of him.
The choice disappears.
“Zaiya Zapera.”
His thumb stills.
My body goes rigid. Does he recognize the name? My father? My family? Was all of this a trap?
“A relative of Asher,” he says.
