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The movement of the doorknob.
Miles has found me.
And now I’m going to be punished.
I rise, determined to accept my fate with strength and fortitude.
I will stand tall and proud, and I’ll?—
The door opens.
I gasp again.
The light in the hallway shines not on Miles McAllister, but on Falcon Bellamy.
The tightness in my chest loosens, and a wave of immense relief washes over me.
I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and fear drains away from my body. My legs still tremble, but this time not in fear.
I run into his arms.
“Oh my God, Vannah. Baby.” He kisses my forehead, my face, my cheeks, my lips.
I swallow. “I’m covered in my own vomit,” I say quietly.
“Do you think I care about that?”
Another man tugs on Falcon’s arm. “This is all great,” he whispers, “but we need to get the fuck out of here. Someone’s going to let shithead out of his room soon.”
“Leif?”
“Yes, it’s me.” He points out the door. “We need to go.”
I lean down and pick up the wallet, phone, and keys. I hand them to Falcon.
“I locked him in,” I say. “And I have all these keys. And his wallet and phone.”
“You’re a genius, Vannah.” He shoves the stuff in the pocket of his black jeans. Then he pulls off his black hoodie. “Put this on.”
I nod, throwing it over my head.
“I wish I could give you something to cover your legs,” he says.
“I’ll be all right.”
“Damned right you will.”
He takes my hand, and together we follow Leif out of the room, closing the door quietly.
Thump thump thump.
“Guess he got tired of waiting,” Leif says in a whisper.
We walk briskly through the hallway to a door, and then through it.
The hallway is now different. I know from my grandfather’s house that we’ve entered the servants’ wing. All of these organized crime families are the same. Live in opulence but keep the help in the unkempt wing of the house so they know their place.
The good news is we’ll be safer here.
