Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75288 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
I drift in and out of sleep for another day or so, occasionally aware of the men checking on me, tending to bandages, bringing more food. I make trips to the bathroom on my own, but mostly I sleep, and when I can’t sleep, I lie awake, my mind spinning.
Atlas comes in with a shopping bag at one point, and I look up when I hear the paper crinkling.
“Roads were clear enough to go into town today. I got some clothes for you. We can get more things when you’re up to it.”
“You bought clothes for me?”
He unpacks his purchases and sets them on a chair, refolding some items so they stack neatly. “Pajamas, slippers, a couple of pairs of pants, and a few shirts. When you’re feeling up to a shower or bath, you’ll have something new to wear.”
“I’m doing much better. I’ll probably be ready to leave soon.” They’ve been wonderfully kind, but I figure they’re not planning on me moving in with them.
He stops mid-fold and turns more swiftly than I’d think a man his size could move. “Leave? Where are you headed?”
That’s an excellent question. “I’m not sure, but I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
Atlas’s eyes, an attractive grayish-blue, search my face. “I know you’re not ready to talk about what brought you up into the mountains in the middle of a blizzard, but it’s clear you weren’t out for a joyride. If you’re in danger, we’ll keep you safe. You can stay here as long as you need.”
I blink at him, and don’t know whether to be wary or cry sweet tears of relief.
Is it possible that I ran from the worst moment of my life and ended up exactly where I needed to be?
CHAPTER 6
GRIZZ
Kira’s presence looms large across our property, even though she’s scarcely left one of the smallest spaces in the main building.
I’ve been all around the perimeter over the past few days, checking cameras and fences, clearing snow, and securing outbuildings. She’s on my mind wherever I go.
Most of the snow has melted, but more is on the way, so there’s plenty to do, but my top priority right now is dinner.
I’m checking the pantry inventory when the bathroom door clicks closed. Atlas is down in ops, and Viper has been holed up since 0930 in the dark closet he calls his workspace, so Kira must be awake.
I happen, on purpose, to pass by as she’s returning to her room. “How’re you doing, Kira?”
“Oh! Hi, Boyd … I’m okay.” There’s more energy in her voice than I’ve heard so far, and she appears solid on her feet. “Where can I take a shower?”
“There’s one downstairs. I’ll take you.”
She retrieves some clothing items from her room, which I take from her when she joins me at the top of the stairs.
“You good?” I ask.
She nods but sways when she sets a foot onto the first step. I reach out before I think, grasping her elbow.
“I’m okay. Tired. And sore.”
I swallow a curse. I’ve seen the bruises. Dark fingerprints on her arms, scraped knuckles, cuts on her cheek.
And the wounds on her hands. The kind you get when you swing at someone with everything you have.
She fought back.
Most victims freeze up. I used to. Mean kids at school. Foster home shit. Bullies who want to take on someone bigger to prove something. You learn to duck, or disappear. I didn’t start fighting back until much later.
But this woman fought back, even while pregnant. That tells me everything I need to know about her.
“Take your time.” I keep a hand on her arm.
She grips the railing and proceeds with care, her jaw set with determination. When I brought food into her room, I sometimes saw that expression on her face while she was sleeping, like she was bracing herself for something she wasn’t going to let happen again.
I understand that look, and I’ve seen it on kids smaller than me who didn’t stand a chance against bullies.
But Kira’s not helpless, and she’s not broken. She may be shaky, but she’s still standing.
At the bottom of the stairs, I lead her down the hall to the full bath, where I flick on the light and fan. “There are clean towels and washcloths on the shelf. Soap and shampoo are in the stall.” I’m pleased to remember there’s a grab bar in there, too, that Atlas installed after I tore my shoulder a couple of years back. “Anything else you need?”
“Um … what should I do about my bandages?” She holds out her hand as an example, and I know there are others elsewhere on her body. “Should I take them off?”
I should’ve already thought of that. “I can wrap them to keep them dry.”
She hesitates. “You wouldn’t mind?”
Mind? What I mind is that she needed these bandages in the first place. I mind like hell that someone put their hands on her.