24

DAHLIA My nails dig into the strap of my bag. My teeth sink into my bottom lip. And I draw countless circles on my thumb in an attempt to properly breathe. In. Out. You know how to breathe. Remember how to breathe. But no amount of comfort movements dispels the tension sinking in my stomach. “I’m just leaving.” I speak clearly, though my voice is low. “Didn’t you ask everyone to get out?” “Not you.” My heart jumps, and I really, really hate my body’s reaction to his words. No. To his voice. Rough, deep, and so close, I feel the vibration of his chest against my back. He doesn’t even yell, but it’s commanding nonetheless. He has this impressively monotone volume that never rises or drops. But maybe that’s why it’s terrifying. I’ve witnessed exactly what Kane is capable of, so his calm, agreeable image is now disturbing instead of intriguing. Since his arm is above my head on the door, blocking my exit, I figure escaping isn’t an option. After one last circle on my thumb, I spin around.