Page 36 of Wilde and Deadly

She needed to leave.

Now.

She pushed herself up, her muscles screaming in protest, her ribs tightening like a vise. She clenched her jaw against the sharp ache flaring in her side. Lifting the oversized US Navy T-shirt—hisshirt—she traced the edge of the square bandage. Beneath it, stitches pulled against her skin. Not deep, or he would’ve taken her to a hospital.

She exhaled. Okay. Good.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The moment her bare feet hit the cool hardwood, the room tilted, and the floor lurched.

Shit.

She gripped the mattress, sucking in a slow breath, waiting for the dizziness to pass. How much blood had she lost?

Her bloodstained shirt lay in tatters over the chair in the corner.

Rowan stared at it, her stomach tightening.

Someone had cut it off her.

The thought sent a sharp ripple of unease through her. She hadn’t taken it off. She hadn’t felt it being removed.

Which meant?—

Her fingers curled into the hem of the oversized T-shirt hanging loose on her frame. A dull pulse of heat crept up her neck, not from embarrassment but from the stark reminder that she’d been out. Useless. Vulnerable.

They’d had to cut her free.

She swallowed against the bitter taste in her throat. She should’ve been able to get out of her own damn clothes. Should’ve been awake enough to at least be aware of what was happening to her.

But she hadn’t been.

And now she was here.

Her jeans were missing too. Probably trashed. Probably soaked in blood.

She sucked in a breath, exhaled slow. Didn’t matter.

What mattered was getting out.

Move.

She wasn’t staying.

Not here.

Not with him.

Her breaths came shallow and uneven, but she forced herself to focus and put one foot in front of the other. She pushed open the bedroom door and found Luka curled up in the hallway. The dog lifted his head, his golden eyes locking onto hers. His tail wagged once, hesitant, as if unsure whether to alert Davey or let her pass.

“Shh,” she murmured, crouching to stroke Luka’s ear. “I’m fine, buddy. Just need some air.”

Luka whined softly but didn’t bark. Good boy.

She straightened and continued shuffling forward. The apartment’s layout was ingrained in her memory. His bedroom door led to a mezzanine overlooking the lower floor. There was another bedroom and bathroom straight back, and she could only hope he was asleep in there as she picked her way downstairs to the living room.

The space had always felt like Davey to her: solid, dependable, and utilitarian. A place where everything had its purpose, everything was under control.

It felt safe.

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