the very little that’s left of humanity and my face is buried in the soft material of his shirt and my cheek is pressed against his chest and he smells like strength and courage and the world drowning in rain. I don’t want him to ever ever ever ever let go of my body. I wish I could touch his skin, I wish there were no barriers between us.
Reality slaps me in the face.
Mortification muddles my brain, desperate humiliation clouds my judgment; red paints my face, bleeds through my skin. I clutch at his shirt.
“You can kill me,” I tell him. “You have guns—” I’m wriggling out of his grip and he tightens his hold around my body. His face shows no emotion but a sudden strain in his jaw, an unmistakable tension in his arms. “You can just kill me —” I plead.
“Juliette.” His voice is solid with an edge of desperation. “Please.”
I’m numb again. Powerless all over again. Melting from within, life seeping out of my limbs.
We’re standing in front of a door.
Adam takes a key card and swipes it against a black pane of glass fitted into the small space beside the handle, and the stainless steel door slides out of place. We step inside.
We’re all alone in a new room.
“Please don’t let go of me put me down,” I tell him.
There’s a queen-size bed in the middle of the space, lush carpet gracing the floors, an armoire flush against the wall, light fixtures glittering from the ceiling. The beauty is so tainted I can’t stand the sight of it. Adam gentles me onto the soft mattress and takes a small step backward.
“You’ll be staying here for a while, I think,” is all he says.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to think about the inevitable torture awaiting me. “Please,” I tell him. “I’d like to be left alone.”
A deep sigh. “That’s not exactly an option.”
“What do you mean?” I spin around.
“I have to watch you, Juliette.” He says my name like a whisper. My heart my heart my heart. “Warner wants you to understand what he’s offering you, but you’re still considered . . . a threat. He’s made you my assignment. I can’t leave.”
I don’t know whether to be thrilled or horrified. I’m horrified. “You have to live with me?”
“I live in the barracks on the opposite end of this building. With the other soldiers. But, yeah.” He clears his throat. He’s not looking at me. “I’ll be moving in.”
There’s an ache in the pit of my stomach that’s gnawing on my nerves. I want to hate him and judge him and scream forever but I’m failing because all I see is an 8-year-old boy who doesn’t remember that he used to be the kindest person I ever knew.
I don’t want to believe this is happening.
I close my eyes and curl my head into my knees.
“You have to get dressed,” he says after a moment.
I pop my head up. I blink at him like I can’t understand what he’s saying. “I am dressed.”
He clears his throat again but tries to be quiet about it. “There’s a bathroom through here.” He points. I see a door connected to the room and I’m suddenly curious. I’ve heard stories about people with bathrooms in their bedrooms. I guess they’re not exactly in the bedroom, but they’re close enough. I slip off the bed and follow his finger. As soon as I open the door he resumes speaking. “You can shower and change in here. The bathroom . . . it’s the only place there are no cameras,” he adds, his voice trailing off.
There are cameras in my room.
Of course.
“You can find clothes in there.” He nods to the armoire. He suddenly looks uncomfortable.
“And you can’t leave?” I ask.
He rubs his forehead and sits down on the bed. He sighs. “You have to get ready. Warner will be expecting you for dinner.”
“Dinner?” My eyes are the size of the moon.
Adam looks grim. “Yeah.”
“He’s not going to hurt me?” I’m ashamed at the relief in my voice, at the unexpected tension I’ve released, at the fear I
Reality slaps me in the face.
Mortification muddles my brain, desperate humiliation clouds my judgment; red paints my face, bleeds through my skin. I clutch at his shirt.
“You can kill me,” I tell him. “You have guns—” I’m wriggling out of his grip and he tightens his hold around my body. His face shows no emotion but a sudden strain in his jaw, an unmistakable tension in his arms. “You can just kill me —” I plead.
“Juliette.” His voice is solid with an edge of desperation. “Please.”
I’m numb again. Powerless all over again. Melting from within, life seeping out of my limbs.
We’re standing in front of a door.
Adam takes a key card and swipes it against a black pane of glass fitted into the small space beside the handle, and the stainless steel door slides out of place. We step inside.
We’re all alone in a new room.
“Please don’t let go of me put me down,” I tell him.
There’s a queen-size bed in the middle of the space, lush carpet gracing the floors, an armoire flush against the wall, light fixtures glittering from the ceiling. The beauty is so tainted I can’t stand the sight of it. Adam gentles me onto the soft mattress and takes a small step backward.
“You’ll be staying here for a while, I think,” is all he says.
I squeeze my eyes shut. I don’t want to think about the inevitable torture awaiting me. “Please,” I tell him. “I’d like to be left alone.”
A deep sigh. “That’s not exactly an option.”
“What do you mean?” I spin around.
“I have to watch you, Juliette.” He says my name like a whisper. My heart my heart my heart. “Warner wants you to understand what he’s offering you, but you’re still considered . . . a threat. He’s made you my assignment. I can’t leave.”
I don’t know whether to be thrilled or horrified. I’m horrified. “You have to live with me?”
“I live in the barracks on the opposite end of this building. With the other soldiers. But, yeah.” He clears his throat. He’s not looking at me. “I’ll be moving in.”
There’s an ache in the pit of my stomach that’s gnawing on my nerves. I want to hate him and judge him and scream forever but I’m failing because all I see is an 8-year-old boy who doesn’t remember that he used to be the kindest person I ever knew.
I don’t want to believe this is happening.
I close my eyes and curl my head into my knees.
“You have to get dressed,” he says after a moment.
I pop my head up. I blink at him like I can’t understand what he’s saying. “I am dressed.”
He clears his throat again but tries to be quiet about it. “There’s a bathroom through here.” He points. I see a door connected to the room and I’m suddenly curious. I’ve heard stories about people with bathrooms in their bedrooms. I guess they’re not exactly in the bedroom, but they’re close enough. I slip off the bed and follow his finger. As soon as I open the door he resumes speaking. “You can shower and change in here. The bathroom . . . it’s the only place there are no cameras,” he adds, his voice trailing off.
There are cameras in my room.
Of course.
“You can find clothes in there.” He nods to the armoire. He suddenly looks uncomfortable.
“And you can’t leave?” I ask.
He rubs his forehead and sits down on the bed. He sighs. “You have to get ready. Warner will be expecting you for dinner.”
“Dinner?” My eyes are the size of the moon.
Adam looks grim. “Yeah.”
“He’s not going to hurt me?” I’m ashamed at the relief in my voice, at the unexpected tension I’ve released, at the fear I
Similar Books
