So I’ve been rescued. A frantic look around reveals I’m also alone, and I have no idea where I am.
This isn’t my apartment. It’s not the big house where my parents lived in until their boating accident, either. I sold that because it was too hard, walking through those doors, knowing Mom and Dad were gone. I liked the idea of downsizing to a much cozier space once I was on my own, even if it was another way for me to show the Order that I would control what elements of my life I could.
And then I was stolen from my life of privilege, my life of safety, and now I look at these unfamiliar surroundings and, if I could, I would scream. It doesn’t matter if I was taken from hell. The world’s on fire, and I might’ve just gone from one nightmare to another.
Escape. My head is still dizzy, my body achy, but my sense of survival… I might’ve lost it after Cam shoved me to the ground inside that dark, dirty, abandoned room, but I don’t see bars. No cameras. No cruel guard who will pin me down and?—
Shit. I was too late. Before I can even shove the blankets away from me, I hear footsteps approaching. The understanding that I’mnotalone terrifies me to the point that I freeze. I can’t move. Can barely breathe. I look for a weapon, something to protect myself with if it turns out this is just another way for my captors to torment me, but there’s nothing. Even if there was, there’s no time. I just manage to grab the blanket, yanking it up to my chin to hide as the door eases inward and a familiar face pops his head in.
It’s Connor.
Connor Heyward.
It’shim—and that doesn’t help me one bit.
I choke on a soundless scream, clamping my jaw shut, squeezing the blanket as he takes a few careful steps into the room. He’s wearing blue jeans and a white t-shirt that’s hanging loosely on him. His normally neat brown hair is mussed like he’s been dragging his fingers anxiously through the short length. He looks tired. More than tired, actually. There are shadows beneath his deep blue eyes, and his usually clean-shaven jaw is covered in enough stubble that I don’t know what distracts me more: the slight scruff or how sunken-in his cheeks seem.
Still, there’s no denying who he is as his gaze roves over me.
He looks like Connor, but he also looks like aman—and I now know better than to trust a man just because I recognize him. Connor… I’ve always thought he had a dangerous side that no one saw save for me. Just because it’s not on display right now, doesn’t mean it’s gone or that I’m safe.
I swallow roughly, watching him carefully as he comes to a stop in the middle of the room.
Our eyes meet. To my surprise, he exhales softly, relief flashing across his handsome features.
“You’re awake,” he murmurs, taking another step closer.
That’s too close. With a flinch, I press myself harder against the headboard at my back.
Connor goes impossibly still. His eyes darken, and slowly, slowly he raises his hands, showing me his palms. “You don’t have to be afraid, Haven. You’re safe now. Haven… you’resafe.”
Haven.It’s been so long since someone called me by my name. Those bastards loved to sneer that I was an Offering, that I was an Order princess, that I wasMiss Smith, and as much as I hated that, I preferred it to them calling me ‘Haven’ like they had a right to. Connor… from a boy who constantly used nicknames, hearing the gentle way he uses my first name now… the panic and the fear is still there, but my heart slows enough that it doesn’t feel like it’s going to explode.
I want to believe him desperately. I’m so tired of being scared, but just because a boy I went to school with—a man who’s always been on the periphery of my life—tells me that I’m safe… until I’m me again, how can I be?
He nods in assurance.
I shake my head and stare at him.
Connor keeps his hands up. “I’m sure you’re confused. You don’t know where you are. Let me tell you. Right now, you’re at my house,” he explains, purposely keeping his voice low. Soothing. “I brought you here after we found you. Do you remember?”
Do I remember?
I remember more than I want to admit to.
Most of all, I remember my angel. Connor. He had… there was blood on him. He was saying my name, but I couldn’t respond, and then he was lifting me off the ground. We were in a car. He was talking over my head, and my head was resting on his thighs, and the next thing I knew, I was here and I have no idea why.
So, yes, I remember, but that doesn’t mean a thing.
Connor must see something on my face because he takes half a step forward, then stops himself again. “You passed out in the car. I figured the hospital would scare the shit out of you, and the Fortress…” His mouth tightens around the Order’s name for the downtown building where the King rules from his penthouse apartment. “No fucking way I was bringing you there. I had no other choice. I had to bring you home.”
Connor logic. He’s right. I probably need to be seen at a hospital, but I’d rather curl up in a ball and die than let anyone in Harmony Heights see me like this. For the same reason, reporting to the Fortress would be impossible. I should be in my own apartment, my own bed, but if Connor was the one sent torescue me, I could see him deciding that bringing me to his place was the best option.
And that’s when he says, “Now that you’re up, you could use a shower.”
I didn’t even realize that I’d taken my eyes off of the biggest threat in this room until my gaze snaps back to his. Yeah, I need a shower. I’d commit murder to be clean. To get out of these clothes. To wash those monsters off of me… Still.
He must realize how that sounds because he winces. “Fuck me. I didn’t mean… shit. It’s just—” He shoves his fingers through his hair. “Look. There’s a bathroom through that door. I’ve got clean towels, soap, shampoo… Whatever you need, I’ve got it.” He’s fast. Before I can prepare myself, he’s closing the gap between us, appearing at the side of the bed closest to me, his hand outstretched as though he really thinks I’m going to let him help me out of the bed. “If you want, I can?—”
