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My eyes settle briefly on the still sleeping Shane. He’s on his back, sheets revealing he’s bare-chested. I hope he’s wearing shorts or something and that he did not get into bed naked beside me. I know I’ve done nothing wrong, but it would make me feel like I’d wronged Mack in some way. There’s only a lamp on the bedside table, and at no point since we’ve arrived here have I seen him with a cell phone.

One call and Mack would know exactly where to find me.

I’m tiptoeing to the dresser where he tossed his jeans to see if I can rifle through his pockets when he stops snoring.

I freeze.

After two terrifyingly anxious seconds, he starts snoring again and I continue to his pants.

Two quick pats reveal nothing big or heavy enough to be a phone. Nothing even jingles, so he’s either hiding his car keys from me or has them hidden somewhere else. I’m not surprised about that after I flung his keys into the forest in Winter Lake.

I continue creeping to the balcony window, wishing I didn’t have to leave the omegas behind, but I might have to. If that person is still in the hallway… No. I can’t risk running into them.

I peer over my shoulder as I slide open the balcony door, hoping I won’t wake Shane. I’ve already lingered here far longer than I should have.

The mechanism in the lock makes the softest metallic clink as the lock releases, but is buttery smooth as it swings open.

I release a quiet sigh and squeeze myself through the gap in the door, trying not to open it more than I need to. One gust of wind, a chill in the air and Shane will wake wondering where it’s coming from.

I close the door behind me, peer through the glass one last time to double check Shane is still snoring. And he is. Still fast asleep. I turn back to the balcony railing, then I look at my belly and I really wish I was a little less pregnant or the railing was a little lower because I know I’m about to make a fool of myself.

It’s the ground floor, which is about the only thing I have to be grateful for, but this will not be easy.

“There’s nothing for it, Aerin,” I breathe as I seize the railing with one hand and throw my leg over.

My belly instantly gets in the way.

That won’t work.

I put my leg to the ground and study the railing again, but I can only think of one way I can get over it.

Standing on the tips of my toes, I turn my back to it, grip the bar with both hands and lift myself up so I’m sitting on top of it.

And I do something utterly stupid. I let myself fall back, bracing myself for the fall but still strangling my yelp when my back thumps to the ground, knocking the wind out of me.

After giving myself a minute to recover, I roll onto my side, then up to my knees before I stand up. Shifting isn’t an option. I’m too far along with my pregnancy for that, so I fast walk toward the forest with no real idea where I’m going or how far I’ll have to run until I reach a main road.

I’ve been fast walking for five minutes, covering my mouth with one hand to muffle my panting breaths as I press my fingers into a stitch on my side when all the hair on the back of my neck rises.

Instantly, I halt.

There’s just me, the moonlight, and trees all around me, but every internal alarm is screaming at me that I’m no longer alone.

I stare in the distance and there’s not even the slightest sign of the main road. Just an endless line of trees I would have to pass and my time just ran out.

“When did you know I’d run?” I ask.

“The second you fell off your balcony,” Franklin responds.

I turn around.

Fear is sometimes an incredible motivator. Not that it will help me now. It also has the ability to chase away the pain from my stitch, and slow what had been increasingly heavy panting breaths.

Franklin stands a couple of feet away, and briefly, I wonder if he was the one in the hallway coughing so I couldn’t escape that way.

He walks toward me, hands tucked into his pockets, smiling slightly as he approaches.

“Why did you let me get this far?” I ask, standing tall, trying not to show him my fear.

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