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“Shh,” he whispers against my hair, letting his mouth trail to the shell of my ear. “Not here.”
He saw it too: Warren’s wall of photographs, newspaper cuttings, and Post-its.
I start to crash, the adrenaline leaving my body so fast I feel lightheaded.
“You okay, bro?” Cole asks Conner.
“I am now.” He lets out a long, steady breath that I feel all the way to the pit of my stomach.
My eyes flutter closed as I lay half draped over Conner’s body.
He came for me.
Conner and his dad came for me.
There had been a moment when Warren had tied me to the chair in front of his camera that my life had passed before my eyes.
All the things I wanted and would never get to have.
It’s funny, I’ve never given much thought to my future—I’m a Heighter, I don’t have dreams and aspirations. But knowing I might never get them... it flipped a switch in me.
Because I do want things.
I want to travel and see new places. I want to get my diploma and graduate. I want to get married and have a family one day.
I want those things.
And they were almost taken from me.
A shudder rolls through me and Conner grips me tighter.
“K?” he whispers.
“I’m okay,” I breathe.
I’m okay.
Warren is gone.
He can’t hurt me anymore.
I wake cradled against Conner’s chest as he carries me through the house.
“I got you, babe,” he says, staring down at me, his eyes glittering with fierce protectiveness.
He came for me.
I don’t think he’ll ever know what that means to me.
“T-thank you,” I murmur, every muscle in my body weak from my ordeal.
“Fuck, K.” His expression falters. “You don’t ever have to thank me. I’m just so fucking sorry you had to go through that.”
No more words are spoken as he carries me into his bedroom and lays me down.
“What do you need? Water? A bath?... A doctor?” Fear coats his words, and I know what he’s asking me.
Grabbing his hand, I shake my head. “He didn’t... I mean, not after he—"
