9

AMIRA

The moment Derrick stepped into my loft, my mouth went completely dry.

He had never been here before.

Not once.

Even Gareth Holloway had never come upstairs. Until Victor forced his way inside, this tiny space had been mine and mine alone.

It wasn't much.

Just a small loft.

Quiet.

Hidden away.

The only place in the Ironclaw Citadel that had ever felt remotely safe.

Now Derrick stood in the middle of it, his broad shoulders seeming to swallow the room whole, and that feeling disappeared.

Every bit of it.

The bed was a twin. Small, but enough for me. I usually slept curled up anyway, keeping myself tucked into the smallest space possible. Years of fear had trained me to sleep that way.

The first day I was given this room, I changed everything.

The bed had been shoved against the wall.

I moved it immediately.

Getting trapped was not an option.

Not on a bed.

Not anywhere.

An armchair sat near the window now, angled just right. Most people would have thought it was there for comfort.

It wasn't.

A crowbar was hidden underneath.

If I ever got a chance to run, I could smash the glass and be out before anyone stopped me.

At least that had been the plan.

To one side of the loft was the wash chamber.

No windows.

Privacy, some would say.

A nightmare, I thought.

One door.

One exit.

One place to get cornered.

The idea of soaking in a bath or standing under a hot shower for too long made my skin crawl. Relaxing was impossible when there was nowhere to escape.

The hearth nook occupied the other side of the room.

A small refrigerator. A sink. A microwave. An air fryer.

A crock pot.

Nothing fancy.

No stove.

No oven.

There was a Bunsen burner hidden away in a cabinet, though, and Gareth had always told me I could use the Lower Hearth Kitchen whenever I wanted.

Back when he was alive, there were nights when I was certain nobody would see me.

Those nights felt almost normal.

I would sneak downstairs and make a real meal.

Something warm.

Something filling.

Something that made me feel human again.

A painful ache settled in my chest.

I hadn't done that in a long time.

"It's definitely cleaner than when Gareth lived here."

Derrick's voice cut through the silence.

He walked around slowly, studying everything.

Every corner.

Every surface.

Every detail.

"You're neat."

The comment made my stomach twist.

Neat.

That was one way to describe it.

Control was rare in my life.

Almost everything could be taken away from me.

Almost everything had been.

The few things that remained under my control stayed exactly where I wanted them.

Nothing was out of place.

Nothing.

I didn't own much.

A few clothes.

A few supplies.

Some necessities.

But I knew where every single item was.

Most of it was packed inside a duffel bag hidden beneath my bed.

The dresser was empty.

The closets were empty.

A handful of toiletries sat in the wash chamber.

Everything important stayed inside that bag.

Clothes.

Water.

Snack bars.

Things I could grab in seconds.

Things I would need if freedom ever came within reach.

Derrick continued looking around.

My fingers tightened around the comforter.

The moment his gaze landed on the dresser, my pulse stumbled.

Please don't notice.

Please.

Maybe he would think nothing of it.

Maybe he would ignore the fact that the dresser blocked the storage chamber door.

Without warning, he reached out.

The dresser scraped loudly across the floor.

My heart stopped.

The heavy piece of furniture moved as if it weighed nothing.

I stared in horror.

It had taken all my strength to put it there.

He pushed it aside with one hand.

One hand.

The opening behind it was exposed.

My barrier was gone.

The small protection I had built for myself.

Gone in a second.

Panic exploded inside me.

Before I could think, I threw the blanket away and lunged from the bed.

The window.

I had to reach the window.

It was the only thing my mind could focus on.

Get there.

Get out.

Run.

The instant my injured leg hit the floor, agony shot through me.

White-hot pain tore up my body.

A cry escaped before I could stop it.

My vision blurred.

The strength vanished from my leg.

Everything gave out.

I crashed hard onto the floor, trembling as pain ripped through me.

Fear squeezed my chest.

The window was still too far away.

Freedom was right there.

And I couldn't reach it.

A shadow fell over me.

Then Derrick's voice came, low and dangerous.

"And where the hell do you think you're going?"