Low in my chest, something stirs. My wolf lifting her head, looking in his direction.
Him.
The word comes from her. She’s doing that thing again, and I don’t like it. Now’s not the time. I press my hand flat over my breastbone and shove her down.
It’s just terror. The crack on the head.
Both true, but not all of it.
The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m not getting out of here on strength. The path, the boulder, the ten seconds of him catching me from three steps off—that door is shut. I’m going to have to think my way out.
He turns back to me, and I flinch.
He sets food down in front of me. Jerky, a tin, crackers. Puts it in reach and goes back to his side without waiting to see what I do with it.
I don’t touch it. My stomach growls because breakfast was hours ago and adrenaline burns through everything. And I’ve been flooded with it today.
Don’t be an idiot, Grace.
I pick up the jerky and eat, because I’m starving and I need a clear head, and being proud about a strip of dried meat won’t buy Serenity or me a thing. I keep my face flat. I don’t look at him.
It’s the way he gave it to me that gets under my skin. No bargain, no watching to see if I’d break. I would know what to do with cruelty. This I don’t.
“Rest,” he says when I’ve finished.
“Rest?” I snort. “Are you serious? You just kidnapped me. How the hell am I supposed torest?”
He nods toward the cot. “That’ll be more comfortable than the rock.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. You snatch me off the street, drag me up to God knows where, for a reason you don’t know, and now you think I’m going to—what? Curl up and take a nap?”
“Yes,” he says. “Or you can sit on the cold rock and stare daggers at me. Your choice.”
I smooth my palms over the hard surface beneath me. Look over at the cot.
I stand and move there, then sink onto it. It’s surprisingly soft. I look at him, where he’s turned his back on me. He’s getting the stove going, and I realize there’s a duct that channels the smoke out. He’s set the place up for extended stays.
No way I’m staying here longer than I have to. I lie back against the pillow and try to relax, even though it’s impossible. I run a hand through my hair, fingertips exploring the gash on my head that knocked me out. It’s almost closed up already, the wolf healing still functioning, even if nothing else is going my way. I breathe in and go through what I know. The boulder and the groove it sits in. The path, how steep it was, how far down the truck sits. Whether there are keys in it, or a phone.
And I think about him. About how I might talk my way out of this.
Somehow, I just know I can’t.
The cave starts to warm, but my teeth are chattering. Fear. Stress. Fury. All of it. I wrap my arms around myself, then jolt when he crosses the room, lifts the blanket, and drops it over me.
“Here,” he says.
I stare at him. If he thinks I’m going to thank him, he’s got another thing coming. But for some reason, some quiet part of me turns toward him anyway.
I curl up and squeeze my eyes shut. Maybe when I open them again, this will all be gone, and I’ll be back in my cubicle, with Aurora still trusting me.
But that’s a reality that no longer exists. Aurora doesn’t trust me. The Syndicate has no use for me. What I have now is this. This small bed. The cold cave. The man across the space who gives off a heat I want to lean into.
You’ve been in worse places, Grace.
I cling to this as the chaos of the day takes its toll and exhaustion settles in. My body sags. My eyes stay shut. The last thing I know is the warmth reaching across the cave, my own body turned toward it, and the thing I can’t say even to myself: that some part of me knows the only safe place left is with him.
Chapter 13
