Dragging my hands through my hair, I pace again. “We've been doing this for the same amount of time. How come you got a different result?”
 
 There’s a long pause as he studies me. Long enough to make my skin crawl.
 
 I shift my weight on my feet, cross my arms. Uncross them. Wish I was holding a weapon instead of all this damn emotion.
 
 As he comfortably holds the silence that makes me want to climb out of my skin, I flop onto the concrete steps by the back door and pick at a crack in the surface.
 
 “What do I do? I don't want her to freak out around me. Like she's bracing… even when I'm not touching her,” I pause and meet his unreadable gaze, “even when I'mnottrying tobe a dick.”
 
 Zane doesn't answer straight away. He stares at me, long and quiet, like he's debating if I even deserve to hear it.
 
 “Speak softer,” he finally says. “Move slower. Treat her like a person and she might talk to you too. Earn her trust… and be patient with her. She's scared. She doesn't know where she is or who we are.”
 
 He turns back to his task and leaves me to process what he said.
 
 Speak… soft?
 
 Move… slow?
 
 Earn trust? Be patient?
 
 What the fuck does any of that even look like?!
 
 All I've ever known is survival. Fight. Run. Take what you can, and cling to it tight.
 
 But I need to try a different approach. To recalibrate. Before Zane gets his hooks any deeper in her.
 
 If I can't figure this out… if I can't learn whatever it is Zane already knows…
 
 He's going to steal herfrom me.
 
 Chapter 12
 
 Ivy
 
 Sitting on the edge of the bed in my cell, I pull the blanket over my bare legs.
 
 The unopened book rests in my hands. I just keep running my fingers over the cracked spine, again and again.
 
 I’ve been here over a week now and fears of Bennett’s men finding me are fading. But guilt weighs on my mind knowing that I wasn’t able to meet Jade like we agreed. I pray that she got out, and is moving on with the plan to get as far as possible.
 
 Zane brings me a bowl of warm water to wash with and food every morning and night. Myles sometimes forgets to bring food. The other one, Phoenix, still hasn’t come in at all. I get the feeling he doesn’t want me here.
 
 The hoodie Zane brought me hangs loose over my frame. It smells like woodsmoke and faint leather, like him. Safe. Quiet. And too big, swallowing my body like a cocoon. I love it.
 
 The drawstring pants are soft and warm at night, but unbearably hot in this sauna during the day.
 
 Myles hasn’t come in yet today. His visits have become more sporadic, perhaps still embarrassed by his actions four days ago. Although, that might be giving him too much credit.
 
 Myles. It’s unfair that he looks as good as he does. Even withhis fingers bruising my arms and tearing at my clothes, I got little flutters, low in my belly. As if I was excited that he was touching me again.
 
 I think there's something wrong with me.
 
 I didn’t scream.
 
 Didn't fight.
 
 Sure, I've learnt not to. Freezing is a better option. Because I never learnt how to run fast enough or scream loud enough. To be anything other than what men expect me to be—something to take from. Something to use. And God help you if you try to fight them.