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“I know you.”

“That doesn't mean shit.”

“It means I know you don't do this.”

“Do what?”

“Any of it.”

I look away.

Beck continues. “You don't ask about women. You don't look them up. You sure as hell don't make social media accounts to watch them eat sandwiches.”

My head turns.

“How the fuck do you know about the sandwich?”

He blinks, then slowly smiles. “You just told me.”

Fuck.

I push away from the table. His laughter follows me into the living room.

“I fucking hate you.”

“I know.”

I grab my phone. No Stories from Callie.

I stare at her profile.

Beck is still talking in the kitchen, but I don't hear him.

Two more days, then I'm free to go anywhere I want.

My thumb hovers over Callie's profile picture.

For the first time, that doesn't feel like freedom.

It feels like a choice.

19

ROMAN

The knock comes at nine in the morning.

I’m already packed and waiting.

Not that there’s much to pack. Everything Mapquest brought me fits into one duffel bag sitting beside the door.

Two fucking weeks in this cabin, and I’m finally getting out.

I open the door. Bishop stands on the other side. Pierce is behind him.

I look past them. My truck is parked beside Bishop’s SUV.

Something in me loosens. “About fucking time.”