I scrabble in the mess to get to her but she’s gone, careering down the hallway before I can even make it to the bloody door.
Jude appears at the end of the hall, arms loaded with sheets, just as the alarm sounds.
I give a sharp shake of my head. No.
Totally oblivious, he drops the sheets and storms over. He grabs my hand, taking no notice of the blood staining it, and drags me down the hall. “Come on.”
“Where are we going?”
He doesn’t say anything, his mouth set in a grim line.
“Jude,” I growl. “Let fucking go of me.” His grip is like iron around my wrist. Even if I pull back or try to pry his fingers off, I’m not strong enough. I’m too lightweight against his bulk.
The alarm overhead is flashing all kinds of warnings at us. Jude ignores it and continues to drag me all the way to his room, and then he tosses me inside. “Stay there,” he glares at me as I snarl at him, lunging straight for him.
He slams the door in my face.
Rage comes roaring through my body. But it’s too late. I hear the lock click shut as I batter the door and scream at the dickhead through the wood. But the fucker is gone.
He fucking left me.
Rawness screams through every part of me until I’m breathing hard, and every part of me hurts…and just fucking hurts. Eventually, I stop thrashing and slide down the wood of the door to sit and wait.
The old injury in my wrist is pulsing, and my throat feels like it’s been ripped apart from all the screaming. So I sit and hold my wrist and wait.
He’d better come fucking back.