rick of a needle bit into my neck earlier and the sedative flooded my system in a rush, bringing oblivion with it.
I can’t keep my fucking eyes open.
As Marcus pulls out of me, they fall shut. And they don’t open again.
Chapter 21
Consciousness filters back in slowly, and it’s so much different than the last time I woke up.
My arms don’t hurt. My head feels clearer instead of fuzzy and heavy. And the panic that sat deep in my bones when I woke up tied to a chair is absent.
I feel… safe.
A low sound comes from my throat, like I’m testing my vocal chords, and I roll over onto my side. When I blink my eyes open, hazy dawn light fills the room, and I find hazel irises staring back at me.
Ryland sits in a chair near the bed, his body solid and still, forearms braced on his knees and inked fingers laced together. He’s watching me steadily, and the way he doesn’t move or react when he sees me look back at him makes me think he’s been watching me for a while. That he saw my eyelashes flutter and has watched me slowly crawl back into consciousness, allowing me the time to find my way back.
I lift my head a little, pulling my gaze from his to glance around the room.
We’re the only two occupants. I’m fully dressed again, lying on a bed that has only a fitted sheet on it—no other blankets. Aside from the chair Ryland sits in, there’s nothing but a large box fan set against one wall. The place doesn’t have the same dusty, mildewy scent as the room Carson kept me in after he abducted me, but all the same, the air feels a little stale. Like no one’s been in here for a while.
Memories of our escape and my breakdown afterward filter through my mind in patchy images and sensations. I can’t quite believe I went from hating Marcus to fucking him in the space of a few minutes—but then again, maybe that’s pretty par for the course in our relationship.
But having Theo kiss me while Marcus fucked me? That… that was new.
Something warm stirs in my belly, but I push it away. There are more important things to worry about right now.
“Where are we?” I ask in a raspy voice, turning back to Ryland.
“A safe house.”
“Where are Marcus and Theo?”
He jerks his head. “Living room. I told them I’d keep watch over you.”
“Why?”
Something flickers in his gaze. “Why what?”
I sigh, feeling a hint of exhaustion creep in again. “Why any of it? Why me? Why Carson? What the fuck is going on?”
Ryland’s face goes still for a moment. Then he lets out a heavy breath, reaching up to scrub a hand over his jaw.
“I don’t think you know what you looked like that night, Ayla. The night you got shot. That fucking image will haunt me for the rest of my life.” His eyes go out of focus a little, like he’s seeing something I can’t, reliving a moment I’m not privy to. “It wasn’t the blood. It wasn’t even seeing someone die. That wasn’t new to me. It was the look on your face. You looked at us—you looked at Marcus—like he could save you.”
He looks down at the floor, and I watch the muscles in his throat move as he swallows.
“We did what we could to help you. We paid your medical bills and bribed that woman from CPS to say she’d gotten the money from other sources. We made sure you got what you needed to help you heal.”
I blink. “What?”
Ryland chuckles, but there’s not an ounce of humor in it. “The state wasn’t going to pay for shit. And your foster family? They couldn’t have afforded it even if they’d tried to pay your medical bills—which they didn’t. So we made sure you were taken care of.”
“You… paid my bills? All three of you?”
“Yes. It was the least we could fucking do. We all agreed on that.” His jaw clenches. “That’s all we agreed on, though. Marcus didn’t want to let you go. But I never wanted to see you again.”
A dull ache spreads across my chest at the truth in his words, as if a heavy weight has settled on me. I swear I can almost feel my ribs crack from the strain. From the hurt. But I keep my voice detached as I shrug, still lying on my side. “Sorry.”