TATE
I COULDN’T SIT. Couldn’t stay still.
My fingers drummed on my knees, legs pacing under the threadbare edge of Enzo’s shirt I’d pulled on. Sweat prickled down my spine, clinging my hair to my neck. My chest hammered so hard I thought it would burst through my ribs.
Every thought clawed at me, gnawed at the edge of reason: You shouldn’t leave. He’ll snap. He’ll catch you. Maybe this is a trap.
Bullshit. Every fiber in me screamed the truth: why would I stay a prisoner, waiting for a man to decide whether to snap my neck tonight or tomorrow? How long could I gamble with that?
The front door rattled.
My breath hitched, lungs freezing.
A soft click, almost tentative. My toes dug into the floor. No shoes, nothing between me and the cold, slick tiles. I crept toward the door, heart ha
