Page 66 of Inside the Wicked

“I’m not going anywhere without you, baby.” He presses a cold bottle to my hands when I let him go. “I’m so fucking sorry, Ana. Everything you’ve been through is because of me. Of everything that’s happened to me, that is my greatest punishment.”

“I’m sorry too, but not for that. Everything that’s happened to me ... I wouldchooseto go through it again if it brought me back to you in the end.”

Rhett kisses my forehead with a sigh. “I have a lot to say about that, but all that matters is you right now. Are you hungry?”

I think I should be, but my emotions are crashing too much to let me feel it. “Maybe a little,” I say.

“Good. I ordered Italian.”

For the first time since he left, a short, breathy laugh escapes me. My fingers clench the new T-shirt he put on. “We have a lot to talk about,” I say, meeting his troubled eyes.

He’s shielding a lot from me right now, as if I’m the more damaged one when he was held captive and tortured for months.

“Not tonight,” he says, taking my hand and leading me over to the sofa.

He picks up one of the thick throws and makes me sit with it while he wanders over to the strip fireplace. He’s clearly encountered one before as he knows exactly how to light it.

Rhett comes back to me and lifts a bottle from the table, tipping two Advil into his palm and offering them to me. They’re a relief to my throbbing head, and I throw them back, taking a drink of water. After I do, Rhett examines my head.

“It doesn’t look like it needs stitches,” he says, his voice hushed as if speaking any louder will shake it with anger.

“You look worse than me.” I observe each cut and bruise on him.

“Nothing on me hurts more than seeing a wound on you.”

When he sits on the sofa, we maneuver like magnets until we’re both lying in a comfortable entanglement.

He murmurs over our peaceful silence, “I missed you, Ana. For 126 days. You’re right here in my arms and I still miss you.”

My brow pinches and my eyes close peacefully, sinking into him further. “It’s not over,” I say.

“Not even close.”

“Tomorrow. We’ll face it tomorrow, together.”

CHAPTER 27

Anastasia

We’re woken by loud pounding at my door. I lunge up from the couch we fell asleep on, as does Rhett. Somehow there’s already a gun in his hands, and I can barely breathe through my heart beating in my throat.

“Go to the bedroom and lock yourself in the bathroom,” Rhett orders in a hushed whisper.

He pulls out a phone, but I can’t do as he asks.

Then a voice calls through.

“Anastasia, if you don’t open in the next minute, I’m coming in.”

It’s my dad.

“Shit.” Rhett can’t be seen here. “You have to hide,” I hiss, pushing him, though it’s futile with him being the rock he is.

“It could be a trap,” he protests.

“Ana!” Dad shouts through.

“He’s the fucking president, and he’ll be with a shit-ton of security—go!”

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