“Who?”
Before she can answer, the door at the top of the stairs opens.
Light spills down across the steps.
Then footsteps.
Slow and careful as he makes his way down.
My stomach turns over before I even see his face.
Rory comes down carrying a mug in one hand and a folded blanket in the other.
For a second, I simply stare at him.
My brain refuses to understand what my eyes are seeing.
Rory.
Rory, with his soft brown hair and tired eyes.
Rory, who helped me look after the sanctuary.
Rory, who brought extra feed when shipments were late.
Rory, who knew which horses hated men and which goats could pick a latch.
Rory. Whom I trusted.
“Hey, Mia,” he says softly.
Like I woke up on his couch after falling asleep during a movie.
Like my wrists aren’t tied.
Like my daughter isn’t hurt.
Like Stefano isn’t bleeding somewhere because of him.
Livy moves closer to me.
My body reacts before my mind catches up. I shift in front of her as much as the ropes allow.
“What did you do?” I whisper.
His face tightens.
“I know this looks bad.”
A laugh breaks out of me.
Sharp.
Ugly.
Terrified.
“Looks bad?”
