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I shove myself to my feet and cross to where she’s sleeping. I know better than to touch her while she’s asleep, but I’m drawn to her the same way a moth is to a flame. She’s always had the power to destroy me, I just wonder how long it will take her to realize it.
I drop into the seat above her head and gently brush my fingers through the blonde strands. Our foster mother was obsessed with her hair. She said there was no way she wouldn’t grow out of the white-blonde locks, but she never did.
There’s so much about the last eight years I don’t know, so many chapters of her book that I haven’t read, so many things that don’t quite add up, and I can’t ask her without trudging up the hell she’s lived through.
She leans into my touch, her head lolling to the side until she’s resting on my palm. There’s some part of her that still finds solace with me the way she did as a child, but she’s fighting it. She doesn’t know how to trust anymore, and she certainly doesn’t know how to love or be loved.
I’ve spent a lot of time since she disappeared feeling helpless, but as I stare down at the broken shell of the woman I’ve obsessed over most of my life, I realize I didn’t know the meaning of the word until right now. I can’t let them take her. I can’t allow her to be hurt again. It’s not an option.
I drift off to sleep in the armchair across from where Mia sleeps, unable to drag myself away from her even when I should. This isn’t sustainable, even if the men of Frost Industries have reassured me it’s normal for men like us. Men who are used to being in control of everything. But I also can’t see it changing anytime soon.
Mia was stolen from me for eight years. She lived through hell, to an extent I’m too afraid to ask her, but I’m not willing to risk that again, even if I know it’s unhealthy to be attached to someone at the hip the way I am her.
My neck is stiff when consciousness returns to me. How long did I sleep like that for? I’ve never been much of a sleeper. When I was in foster care, it was more of a safety measure. You can never allow your guard to fall too low when the people around you are almost always fucked in the head.
And then when we got out, it was the worry for Mia that stopped me from closing my eyes at night. After that, it’s obvious what made me choose a life of permanent exhaustion.
I flick my eyes open and notice there’s a soft blanket wrapped around me. Confusion quickly turns to panic when I realize Mia isn’t asleep on the couch across from me anymore.
Where the hell is she?
And how the fuck could I allow myself to sleep so soundly? Ordinarily, every bump in the night is enough to wake me up.
“Mia?” I call through the penthouse as I drop the blanket onto the armchair.
I look around for any signs of where she might be, but everything is where I left it last night. The kitchen is untouched, the desk Elijah set up for her still has the chair neatly tucked under it, so where could she be?
I move through the penthouse, calling her name, but each step I take has dread washing over me. Please tell me she didn’t run. Please tell me she wouldn’t be so stupid as to put her life in danger.
Every room I check is empty until I come to the master bedroom. The bed is still neatly made, the bathroom untouched.
She’s gone.
She fucking ran.
Movement on the balcony catches my eye, and a small figure curled up on the outdoor couch allows me to breathe.
I push the door open and step into the cool morning air. I didn’t bother to check the time in my panic, but from the sun’s position in the sky, it can’t be any later than seven.
Mia’s tiny frame is folded in on itself with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She doesn’t look up when the door clicks open, her eyes glued to the city beneath us.
“Hey,” I say on a hushed sigh. I don’t know how this woman so easily sends me into a blind panic when nothing else has ever been able to do the same. “You should have woken me.”
“You haven’t slept since you found me,” she whispers. “You needed the sleep.”
“And you don’t?”
She looks up at me, a sad smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I don’t sleep well. Sleep was always risky, so I got good at surviving on very little.”
I nod and drop into the seat next to her. “It’s cold out here.”
She shrugs and pulls the blanket tighter around herself. “I didn’t get to sit outside much. All the places I was kept had intense security, but I guess the outdoors were harder to ensure I wasn’t a danger to myself, so I was mostly confined. It’s just nice getting some fresh air.” Her haunted eyes flit back to me. “Would you prefer I stay inside?”
The question isn’t posed as anything other than that, but it cuts me to my fucking core. She thinks I want to cage her the same way every other man in her life has.
But all I’ve ever wanted is to set her free.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
