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The minuteI escape Maddoc’s penetrating gaze, I make a beeline for the room they gave me, doing my best to keep my mind blank.
I don’t want to think about how it felt to nearly die by Logan’s hand. I don’t want to think about why I almost felt safe for a moment when Dante stepped in and protected me. And I sure as hell don’t want to think about the confusing muddle of fear and attraction thatMaddocjust stirred up.
As soon as I’m inside my bedroom, I shut the door and lean back against it, closing my eyes and letting my pulse return to a normal rhythm. As it does, my brain finally manages to fully process the most important thing that happened in the library—and it isn’t the fact that I almost died.
It’s the fact that Maddoc finally gave me his word.
The Reapers are going to help me get Chloe back.
The West Point leader may be a sadistic bastard, but Maddoc, Logan, and Dante are all ruthless motherfuckers on a whole different level.
And for now, at least, they’re on my side.
I blow out a slow breath, then push away from the door. It’s close to midnight, and I haven’t eaten in a long time. Maddocdidsay I could go to the kitchen, so I pretend my heart isn’t trying to beat its way out of my chest as I leave my room again and head downstairs.
Thankfully, I don’t run into anyone on my way to the kitchen. I grab a few easy items—a box of crackers and a jar of pickles from the pantry, and some sliced cheese and meat from the fridge—then dart back up to my room and close the door.
I ignore the idea of eating at the little desk in the corner and take my stash to the bed, chewing and swallowing without really tasting any of it. Then I crawl beneath the covers and fall into an exhausted but restless sleep.
* * *
I didn’t thinkto close the curtains before I passed out, and when I blink my eyes open late the next morning, feeling groggy and a bit disoriented, the room is full of bright sunlight. I squint and yawn, sitting up in bed as I tug at the oversized shirt Dante gave me.
To my surprise, there are a couple of familiar bags on the floor by the door.
Someone brought them in while I was sleeping.
My stomach flips over at that thought. At least one of the three men in this house seems to actively want to kill me, and the idea that someone came in here while I was asleep and vulnerable makes goosebumps break out over my skin.
Suppressing a shiver, I get up and go check the bags. They’re the two worn out totes that I keep in the back of my closet at our apartment, and sure enough, they’re full of my clothes and personal items.
I hate that some stranger was poking around in my personal space, touching my shit and going through my private things, but it does make me feel marginally better to have some of my own things here. I quickly tug off the clothes Dante left me and throw on the first things I grab from one of the bags. Some underwear, thank fuck. A tight pair of ripped jeans. A loose top in the same shade of blue as my hair.
I consider unpacking the bags and putting my clothes in the small closet opposite the desk, but I decide against it. I don’t plan on being here long anyway, and somehow, the idea of my bags being packed and ready to make a hasty escape when the time comes makes me feel better.
I drag the bags over to sit in front of the closet, though, just to get them out of the way, and as I do, my stomach growls. I slept longer than I meant to, and it’s past eleven already.
My eyes stray to the half-full box of crackers from last night. That and some pickles are all that’s left of my midnight snack. It’s tempting to just make do with that and call it good, but starving myself won’t do me any damn good, so I shove my still-packed bags against the closet door, then leave my room.
My footsteps pause for a second on the stairs when I hear voices, but I remind myself that I shouldn’t need to tiptoe around. I’m sticking to the areas Maddoc said I could be in, and maybe it will be a good thing if I run into one of the men. I want to get an update on their plans for retrieving Chloe, and the only way I’m going to find out what’s going on is to find someone who knows.
So I take a deep breath and square my shoulders, then keep moving.
The voices are low and indistinct, and they’re coming from the living room, which I’ll have to pass by on my way to the kitchen. I try to identify the voices as I near the door to the living room, but I can’t—and when I peer tentatively through the door frame, I realize why.
A man and a woman are standing in the middle of the living room, their heads bent together as they speak. I don’t recognize either of them, but the woman has long red hair that reaches almost to her ass and a figure that would make her a shitload of tips if she danced at the club. That’s about all I can tell about her, since her back is to me.
The man stops talking when he notices me staring at them, his eyebrows twitching upward in a look of surprise, and when the woman loses his attention, she whirls around to find out why.
“Who the fuck are you?” She frowns, her eye flicking up and down my body in a quick appraisal.
I return the favor, taking her in now that I can see her more fully. She’s pretty, but hard looking. I’ve got no doubt she’s a Reaper just like the man is, both of them probably lower level members of Maddoc’s gang.
“Hey.” She stalks toward me when I don’t answer. “I asked you a question.”
I hesitate for a second, not sure what to say. Maddoc never mentioned whether our deal should be a secret or not, and I don’t want to misstep and piss him off again.
So I just go with, “I’m a guest.”
