Thorne Princess(102)

She wasn’t wrong.

And still. And still.

“You think I’d stay without you?” Why did it sound so hideous, the idea of being without her? “Is that how you know me?”

Still packing, she said, “I don’t know the first thing about you. That’s the problem.”

“Of course, you know me.”

Or at least, she knew me more than everyone else.

She turned around to face me, clutching a skirt between her fingers. “Fine. You’re right. I do know you. Which is why I know you’ll listen to me this time. I want you to leave. I need to think. I need to be by myself. We’ve been stuck together for weeks now. Or is it months? How long has it been?” She let out a brittle chuckle. “Everything’s been a blur since you stormed into my world. I don’t remember my life without you. Which scares me. I want you to respect my boundaries for once and leave. Don’t call Max, either. I want to be alone.”

“You can’t—”

“You saw firsthand how everybody I know let me down,” she cut me off, her eyes pink, her chin wobbly. “Please. You fucked up. You fucked her. For once in your life, do something altruistic. Let me go.”

“Hallie…”

Nothing else came out. She was right. Nobody respected her wishes. And if I chose not to leave her, I’d be doing the same. But how could I walk away when I knew she could be in danger?

“Leave,” she said quietly. “For me,” she added. “For us.”

I closed my eyes.

I wanted to explain so badly. But she asked me not to. And I couldn’t be one of those people who didn’t give two shits about what she wanted. She deserved better.

“Four hours,” I heard myself say, each word tasting like metal in my mouth. “I’m giving you four hours to cool down. Because you’re right. I do respect your wishes, and if I could take things back…” I faltered. “I would take back our entire beginning. Re-do it.”

She pushed me out of her walk-in closet, closing the door behind her back with a soft click.





The green phone symbol on my iPhone was adorned with a red ninety-nine missed calls circle.

Mom.

Dad.

Texas Landline.

I tucked the phone back into my pocket, continuing to pack. I didn’t know where I was going; I just knew I had to leave. This life I lived wasn’t mine. Every minute I shared with Ransom was making it harder for me to say goodbye to him. And I was going to have to say goodbye to him. Soon.

By the time he got back, he wouldn’t find me here.

I glanced at the clock on my nightstand. It said three in the afternoon. Two out of my four Ransom-less hours had passed. I was almost finished packing. I was proud of myself for not crying. I wanted so badly to sob into my pillow. Ransom sleeping with this horrible woman was the last straw in a disastrous month.

Terrible, and yet so predictable. You knew he was a soulless man.

What stopped me from hating him all the way was the revelation of what he’d been through years ago. That boy. I knew he carried it in his heart every day, the burden of his sin making it hard for him to breathe.

He was wrong. He wasn’t a lost cause. He did have a soul. Maybe even a good one. But he buried it so deep inside, I’d come to terms with the fact I couldn’t pull it from the ruins of his tragedies. Only he could do that for himself.

Turned out the old cliché was right all along—only we had the power to better ourselves.

I heard the door whining open downstairs. My jaw clenched.

“I thought we agreed on four hours, Random,” I lamented, loudly enough for him to hear.

Footsteps pounded up the stairway. One…two pairs.

Why were there two pairs? Who was he with?

My heart rattled against my ribcage.

I let go of the clothes I was holding and crawled under my bed. It was my safest bet. The only escape route from my bedroom was the balcony, and last time the Russians paid us a visit, they parked directly in front of it.

The footsteps grew closer, louder. I sucked in a breath, lowering my head to try to peek through the curtain of linen hiding me from view.

I saw two pairs of smart shoes. They entered my room with purpose, speaking briskly between themselves in Russian.

Shit, shit, shit.

One waltzed into my closet, kicking the half-full suitcases aside. The other approached my window, probably to see if I jumped through it.

Window Guy told Closet Guy something in Russian. They both laughed. They walked out of my room, filing in and out of rooms on the second floor. They knew I was here somewhere. They’d heard me.

I contemplated trying to take out my phone and call Ransom, but decided against it. My phone was a mini, so small I’d tucked it inside my waistline. It could easily slip and make noise.

Closet Guy trudged outside my home gym, growling. He and the other man met in the hallway again. Their hushed voices didn’t sound so smug now. My heart beat so hard I was surprised they didn’t hear it.

Were they going to leave? Ransom was their main objective. He clearly wasn’t here. No way he could hide under any piece of furniture. He was massive.

One of them began making his way downstairs. I drew in a lungful of air. Almost out of the woods. Then the other pair of shoes turned in my direction, swiftly lurching forward.