“You won’t need to.”
My heart slammed against myribs.
“Because I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re mine.”
There was no hesitation, no softening or pretending this was impulsive.
With just three words he’d made it clear he’d chosen this — chosen me — and that realization landed somewhere deep inside me, setting off a flurry of butterflies. For the first time in forever, the feeling of loneliness dissipated.
I wasn’t hovering anymore, floating around aimlessly. His words were the line and he was the anchor.
I turned away before my face did something embarrassing and allowed myself one moment to think this through. Or at least I pretended to think it through for my conscience.
Curiosity killed the cat, I reminded myself. But surely, I had a couple of lives left, right?
Was it really so wrong to give in to this impulse when he was the first person I’d ever truly connected with?
I’d always wanted to belong to someone, to not feel so alone anymore, and here he was. Wanting me so badly, he came for me, refusing to leave me behind.
Maybe it was insane, but sometimes you had to take a chance. My life had never been conventional, never been a straight path so what was one more unexpected twist?
Off into the deep end I go.
Determinedly, I started shoving things into a duffel bag. Pictures, some clothes, my dad’s apron and some paperwork because apparently I was leaning in. Instead of calling the police like a rational adult, I was packing for a life on the run.
“You do understand this kind of thing qualifies as kidnapping.” I crouched on the floor, stuffing clothes in without folding them because chaos felt appropriate.
“It doesn’t.”
“Oh good. What are we calling it, then?”
“Relocation.”
I peered back at him over my shoulder. “You make it sound like witness protection for people who make bad decisions.”
“You’re not a witness.”
“Is that supposed to be comforting?”
“You’re much more valuable than a witness, if it makes you feel any better.” The sound of his boots thudding against the cheap floors startled me for a moment. “Witnesses are dispensable. You aren’t.”
I froze, then slowly reached out to grab a pair of shoes and stare at them. “These will absolutely give me blisters,” I muttered. “I refuse to be hunted in bad footwear.”
Sasha scoffed. “You’re not going to be hunted.”
“Said the wanted man. That literally implies running, you know?”
“Don’t worry about fucking shoes. I’ll get you better ones.” I glanced back at him. He cocked his head to the side and I imagined him smirking behind his mask. “One minute, then we’re leaving.”
He was closer now but still just standing there, watching me like this was inevitable. My pulse jumped so violently in my neck, I was sure he could see it.
“This part of your life is over.”
I stared up at him, trying to process his words. He was so calm and certain, it was mind-boggling.