Page 71 of Pretty Cruel Love

A few team members glance up at the screen, leaning back in their chairs.

It doesn’t look that bad…

Just as I’m shifting back to my notes, a loud round of thunder roars across the sky, followed by violent cracks of lightning.

“Can we go ahead and handle part two before the storm rolls in?” I ask. “We can at least do half—to make use of the serum still in her veins.”

“I’m thinking we should hold off until after the storm,” Sheldon replies.

“That’s fine with me, too.” I shut my folder.

I try to redirect the group to go over the session findings, but I notice them not-so-subtly packing up their things.

I offer to make pasta. I even joke about cracking open some beers while we wait out the worst of it, but they’re itching to leave.

As the thunder growls louder, my mind flicks to Sadie. I hope she’s wearing her headphones. I hope she’s tuning all of this out.

Another bolt of lightning rips through the sky like a strobe light, and the clouds keep sinking lower—thick and bruised, like they’re threatening to drop a funnel cloud any minute.

“Okay, that’s it.” Robin calls out as the lights flicker once, then again. “Everyone, let’s go. We’ll head down in my van.”

“Let me call the lead guard,” I say. “I need to ask how we’re supposed to handle transporting Sadie.”

“We don’t transport her at all.” She furrows her brow. “You know that. She has to stay here.”

“By herself?”

“Uh, yeah.” Robin brushes past me as Sheldon picks up his bag.

“We don’t have permission to move inmates, no matter how bad it gets.” He shrugs. “It’s not your job to risk your own life to save hers.”

“I’m leaving!” Robin yells from the front door, just as the rain slams harder against the cabin. “Let’s fucking go!”

Sheldon gives me one last pleading look before following her out.

I stand at the window and watch their headlights flash, then disappear down the winding road.

I triple-lock every entrance under the eyes of the cabin’s cameras, but then the power goes out.

Several seconds pass in the darkness, without the electricity returning, so I immediately search for Sadie.

She’s in the tub, curled beneath a blanket, my headphones snug over her ears. Water clings to her skin in delicate beads, glistening under the flickering bathroom light. The storm outside rages louder now, wind howling against the glass, thunder rolling like distant artillery. But she’s still. Quiet. Her chest rises slowly, her breaths shallow and measured—like she’s trying not to exist too loudly.

I kneel beside the tub, reaching for the blanket that’s pulled up to her chin. My fingertips graze the soft fabric, then the delicate slope of her shoulder.

She doesn’t flinch.

I trace a line from her collarbone to her wrist and take her hand. She grips mine like it’s the only real thing left in the world.

And with the cameras completely shut down—I pull her with me.

I help her out of the tub, wrapping the blanket tightly around her soaked body. I towel her hair gently, then press a kiss to her temple. Another to her jaw. Another just below her ear, where she shudders beneath me.

I walk her across the cabin, through the low-lit hallway and into my suite. The lights flicker above us, casting shadows that move like ghosts. I close the door behind us, lock it, and let the silence deepen. The storm becomes the only soundtrack—rain hammering the windows, thunder cracking above.

I lay her down on my bed like something sacred.

She reaches for me the second her head hits the pillow. Her eyes shine, glassy and wide. There’s something desperate in them—something feral and aching.

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