I’ll figure that part out later.
Survival first.
I slip down the aisle, padding silently across the carpet. My hands connect with the smooth back of the chair. It’s one ofthose heavy wooden ones with four legs protruding diagonally to the floor, a wide seat, and a curved back. I grab the chair and carefully lift it away from the table and overhead.
My foot catches on the table’s leg as I move around the side, and I nearly trip.
Though I don’t fall, the old wooden table creaks.
Loud enough for whoever broke in here to start walking this way.
Double merde.
They’re about to come around the shelves. This will be my only chance to take them out.
I raise the chair a little higher, bracing to swing?—
My grip on the chair slips as the man grabs for it.
On instinct, I scream.
“Easy, woman! It’s me!” An unmistakably velvet voice cuts through my panic. Relief and shock slam into me like a semi.
My pulse pounds a percussive beat in my ears. “Rory?”
I can’t believe it. He actually found me?
My eyes moisten with tears.
“Yeah, it’s me.” He sets the chair down, and his shadowed form inches closer. “Did you really think I wouldn’t come after you?”
“How did you find me?” Voice wobbling, I hug myself tight to resist my urge to throw myself at him. Even though every cell in my body aches to do so. For all I know, he’s here to shout at me.
Rory grabs my naked wrist with his big hand, frowning at the fresh scratches that show in the light the streetlamp casts through the window. “I tracked your bracelet to a convenience store and asked the owner if he’d seen someone matching your description. He said yes and to tell you that the next time you use one of his tools, you’re buying it.”
He slides his free hand into his pocket and produces the mangled bracelet.
“Oops.”
His jaw tics. “Oops? Is that all you have to say for yourself? I heard you jumped out of a moving car.” Despite his obvious exhaustion, sharp urgency laces his voice. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
The fact that he actually sounds like he gives a shit makes this so much harder. My eyes are full of tears. “Would you even care if I were?”
His jaw twitches. “What kind of question is that? Of course I’d care.”
I snatch my arm back from him, tears dripping down my cheeks. “There’s no ‘of course.’ I saw how you looked at me in the library.”
“Kiara—”
“No! I’m not going back with you, so don’t bother. I’m not your captive anymore.”
I need to shut this down. If he thinks a bit of sweet talk will convince me to trust him or the Kings again, he’s wrong.
I don’t know if I can survive on my own, but I’m better off by myself than with people who loathe me for my bloodline.
Rory goes quiet for a few moments, his soft exhales the only break in the silence. “I know you’re not.”
Why does he sound so sad? My arms itch to wrap around him and hug the sorrow away.
