He shrugs. “Maybe. But at least now, you’re safe.”
I let out a shrill laugh. “Safe? You kidnapped me.”
“You weren’t thinking straight,” he continues, blatantly ignoring my words even as his gaze meets mine. “That guy…he’s got you brainwashed.”
I let out a humorless scoff. “You don’t get to talk about brainwashing. You spent years making me believe I was worthless.”
His eyes narrow. “Watch your mouth.”
“Or what?” I taunt, keeping my fear out of my voice. “How much worse can you get?”
He steps closer, and I brace myself.
But he doesn’t hit me.
Not this time.
He just crouches beside the bed, his face inches from mine. “You think you’re strong now,” he whispers. “But you’re not. Younever were. You’re still that scared little girl. And I’ll remind you of that if I have to.”
I stare at him, heart pounding.
I think of Ronan.
The way he looked at me like I was precious. The way he touched me like I mattered.
I’d burn this place to the ground for you.
He meant it.
And if he finds out I’m gone…he’ll come for me. I don’t know how, but something tells me he will. I just need to hold on.
“I won’t stay here,” I say, voice low. “You’ll have to kill me first.”
Daryl chuckles darkly. “Don’t tempt me.”
Then he leaves, locking the door behind him.
And I’m alone again.
But I’m not that scared little girl anymore. Not really. I know what it feels like to be wanted. I know what it’s like to be loved.
So I lie there in that suffocating room, bruised and bound and burning with fury. But I don’t plan to go down without a fight.
It’s time to make use of those self-defense moves Ronan taught me.
Chapter Nine
Ronan
Eleanor should be here by now.
I pace the narrow space of the prison infirmary, my eyes darting to the clock every few minutes like the damn thing’s going to give me answers. She’s never late. Not without a reason. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned in this place—it’s to trust my gut.
Something’s wrong. Definitely.
I knew it the moment I walked into the infirmary and she wasn’t here. Now, the morning rounds have ended and she still isn’t here. My heart is slamming against my chest like a warning bell I can’t silence.
I shove my hands into my pockets, trying to hold back the rage simmering just beneath my skin. Five years in this hellhole. Five fucking years of pretending to play the game, biding my time, making deals in the dark. I’ve stayed low, played by their rules, cleaned my slate with blood and silence. And for what? So I could maybe walk out of here a decade earlier? So I could salvage some version of a life?
