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The bathroom tile was cold enough to burn.
I pressed my cheek against it anyway. My ribs screamed every time I breathed and there was blood under my nails. Not mine. His.
I'd clawed his face when he came at me in the basement. Then I ran.
The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead. Someone knocked on the stall door. I didn't answer. Couldn't. My throat was so dry it felt like swallowing glass.
"Miss? You okay in there?"
No. I wasn't okay. I hadn't been okay in three years.
I forced myself up. My legs shook. There was a bruise spreading across my left thigh, purple and sick-looking. I didn't remember getting it. That was the thing about Derek. After a while you stopped counting.
I unlocked the stall and stumbled to the sink. The woman who'd knocked took one look at me and backed away. I didn't blame her. My lip was split. There was a handprint on my neck. My hair was matted with something I didn't want to think about.
I ran the water as hot as it would go and scrubbed.
The rest stop was one of those highway ones. Middle of nowhere, North Carolina. Vending machines and a map behind scratched plastic. It was two in the morning and there were maybe four cars in the lot.
I'd stolen Derek's truck. Left my phone on the kitchen counter so he couldn't track me. I had forty-three dollars, no ID, and half a tank of gas.
Stupid. So stupid.
But I couldn't go back.
I dried my hands and walked out. The automatic doors slid open and the night air hit me like a fist. It was raining. Not hard. Just enough to soak through my jacket in thirty seconds.
Derek's truck was parked under the far light. I'd been driving for six hours. No plan. Just away.
I made it three steps before my knees gave out.
The pavement was wet and gritty under my palms. My vision went gray at the edges. I tried to stand. Couldn't. My body had finally decided it was done.
Footsteps. Heavy. Fast.
"Hey."
A man's voice. I flinched so hard I bit my tongue.
"Easy. You're hurt."
I looked up. He was tall. Dark hair, soaked through. His jacket was the kind hunters wore, all pockets and zippers. His eyes were pale. Gray or blue. Hard to tell in the sodium light.
He crouched down. Not too close. Like he knew what sudden movements did to people like me.
"Can you stand?"
I shook my head.
"Alright." He glanced around the parking lot. His jaw tightened. "Anyone coming for you?"
Yes.
I didn't say it. But he saw the answer on my face.
"Yeah. Thought so." He stood and pulled his phone out. "I'm calling—"
"No."
My voice came out like gravel. He stopped.
"No cops. No hospital."
"You need—"
"I said no."
We stared at each other. Rain dripped off his nose. He had a scar through his left eyebrow and his hands were scarred too. Work scars. The kind you got from using your hands every day for years.
He put his phone away.
"You got someone? Friend, family?"
I laughed. It hurt. "No."
"Then you're coming with me."
I should have said no. Should have screamed. Run. Done literally anything except nod.
But I was so tired.
He helped me up. His hands were careful. When I hissed at the pressure on my ribs he adjusted his grip. He half-carried me to a beat-up Ford at the edge of the lot and got the passenger door open.
The seat was covered in fast food bags and a dog-eared paperback. He shoved them into the back.
"Seatbelt," he said.
I fumbled with it. My hands wouldn't work right. He reached over and clicked it in place. Then he got in and started the engine.
I should have asked where we were going.
I didn't.
I watched the rest stop lights fade behind us and tried not to pass out.
The road was empty. No headlights behind us. No signs. Just trees and rain and darkness.
"Name's Cain," he said after a while.
I didn't answer.
"Don't have to tell me yours. Just figured you should know mine."
His voice was rough. Like he didn't use it much. I kept my eyes on the side mirror. Watching for Derek's Civic. The one he'd bought after I totaled his last car. He'd made me pay for it. Not with money.
Cain didn't try to talk after that. He drove fast but smooth. No sudden braking. No swerving. His hands were relaxed on the wheel.
I counted the mile markers. Twelve. Fifteen. Twenty.
My eyelids were so heavy.
"Stay awake," Cain said. "Couple more miles."
I dug my nails into my palm. Focused on the sting.
We turned off the highway onto a dirt road. No streetlights. Just the high beams cutting through the rain. The trees pressed in on both sides. Branches scraped the roof.
This was it. This was where he'd dump my body.
I reached for the door handle.
"Don't," Cain said. He didn't look at me. "We're here."
A cabin appeared in the headlights. Small. Wood siding. A porch with a rusted chair. No other buildings. No neighbors. Nothing.
He parked and killed the engine.
"Can you walk?"
I didn't know. I tried the door. It opened. I got one foot on the ground before my legs quit again.
Cain caught me.
He carried me up the porch steps and kicked the door open. It was warmer inside. Dry. It smelled like wood smoke and something sharp. Metal.
He set me down on a couch. It was old and scratchy but I sank into it like it was the best thing I'd ever felt.
"I'll get water," he said.
I heard him moving around. Cabinets opening. The clink of glass. My eyes kept trying to close.
Then I heard it.
A car engine. Distant but getting closer.
I sat up so fast my ribs screamed.
Cain was back. He had a glass in one hand and he was looking at the door.
"You expecting someone?" His voice had gone flat.
"No," I whispered.
He set the glass down and crossed to the window. Pulled the curtain back an inch. His whole body went still.
"Civic. Blue. That him?"
Oh god.
Oh god oh god oh god.
"How did he—" I couldn't breathe. "I didn't—I left my phone—"
Cain let the curtain drop. He turned and looked at me. Really looked. Then he walked past me to the far wall and pulled down something I hadn't noticed.
A shotgun.
"Stay here," he said.
He went out onto the porch. I heard his boots on the wood. The car engine cut off. A door slammed.
"Lost?" Cain's voice. Calm. Cold.
"Looking for someone." Derek. I'd know that voice anywhere. Smooth. Sweet. The voice he used when other people were watching. "My girlfriend. She's sick. Confused. I'm worried about her."
"No one here but me."
"Yeah? Mind if I look around?"
"Yeah. I do."
Silence. Then Derek laughed. The sound made my skin crawl.
"Come on, man. Her truck's at the rest stop ten miles back. Someone saw her leave with you. I just want to make sure she's okay."
I bit down on my hand. Hard. Tasted blood.
"She's not here," Cain said. "And you're on private property. Turn around."
"Layla!" Derek's voice went sharp. Loud. "Baby, I know you're in there. It's okay. I'm not mad. Just come out and we'll go home."
I bit down harder.
"Last chance," Cain said. "Leave."
"Or what? You'll shoot me? She's mine. You can't—"
The shotgun blast was so loud I felt it in my teeth.
I didn't hear what Derek said next. Just his footsteps. Running. The car door. The engine roaring to life. Tires spitting gravel.
Then silence.
Cain came back inside. He was soaking wet again. He propped the shotgun by the door and looked at me.
I pulled my hand away from my mouth. There was blood on my palm. Teeth marks.
"He'll come back," I said.
"Probably."
"I should go."
"Where?"
I didn't have an answer.
Cain ran a hand through his hair. Water dripped onto the floor. He looked tired. Older than I'd thought. Maybe forty. Maybe older.
"You can stay tonight," he said. "Tomorrow we'll figure it out."
I wanted to say no. Wanted to run. But I had nowhere left to go.
He brought me the water. I drank it. He brought me a blanket that smelled like cedar and left me alone.
I lay down. The couch was lumpy but I didn't care. I was so heavy. Like my bones were made of lead.
I closed my eyes.
Sometime later I woke. Just for a second. The room was dark. There was a fire going in the fireplace. Cain was sitting in a chair across from me. He wasn't looking at me.
He was sharpening a knife.
I turned my head. The walls were covered in them. Knives. Swords. Blades I didn't have names for. All of them polished. Gleaming.
And hanging above the fireplace, a rifle with silver bullets lined up on the mantle.
I tried to sit up. Tried to speak.
But the darkness pulled me under before I could move.