Page 67 of Safe Place

The second I’m free, I bolt. I grab my phone off the table, leaving my bag, my laptop—everything—and run. My torn shirt slips down one shoulder, my bra still half-exposed, and I clutch the fabric together with one hand, my phone clutched in the other.

The hallway is empty—most students are gone this late in the day. My breath is ragged, echoing in the quiet as my sneakers pound the floor.

I don’t dare go to the ladies’ room. That’ll be the first place he might look. Instead, I duck into another study room halfway down the hall and hide in a corner. My heart is hammering so hard it hurts.

I don’t know what to do. My mind is blank, panic roaring too loud to think straight. My hands are shaking so violently I almost drop my phone.

Before I can think things through, I tap Micah's name and press the phone to my ear. My hands won't stop shaking. Carter's voice is still close in my head—that tone, that entitlement, the way he said sweetheart like it was something he owned. My stepfather used to have a voice like that. Not identical, but the same shape underneath. The same assumption that my no was just a temporary phase.

The line connects. I can't speak. But I don't hang up.

MICAH

The second Sophie’s name flashes on my screen, a smile tugs at my mouth. She doesn’t usually call me first—it’s almost always me reaching out—so yeah, I’m already in a good mood as I swipe to answer.

“Hi baby.”

No response. Just broken breathing, uneven and shaky.

My stomach drops.

“Sophie? Talk to me. What’s wrong?”

Still nothing but those quick, shallow breaths. My chest tightens, panic spiking fast.

No. No way. Her stepfather isn’t out yet. But what if he is? No—Nico would have warned me.

“Sophie, where are you?” My voice rises despite trying to stay calm.

She finally chokes out, “Student…Center…108.”

“I’m on my way. Don’t move.”

I hang up and run to the car. The drive is a blur of screeching tires and the speedometer climbing way higher than I should risk. It’s a miracle I don’t get pulled over. My grip on the wheel is white-knuckled, my mind running wild.

If her stepfather laid a finger on her—if that bastard somehow got out early—I’ll get all my lawyers involved. I’ll make him go back to prison and rot there forever.

When I finally shove open the door to Room 108, my heart stops.

She’s curled in the corner, head down, arms wrapped tight around her knees, like she’s trying to make herself as small as possible.

“Hey,” I say softly, crouching a few feet away. I don’t want to scare her. “Hey, it’s me. It’s okay. I’m here.”

Her head lifts, eyes red and swollen, and something in me cracks. She reaches for me, grabbing my arm like I’m the only thing holding her up.

“Can you—can you take me…somewhere? Anywhere,” she whispers.

“Of course,” I say immediately. “Let’s get you out of here.”

I help her stand, keeping my arm steady around her when her legs wobble. That’s when I notice it—her shirt is torn, slipping just enough for her bra to show.

Rage surges hot and sharp. Whoever did this—I swear to God⁠⁠—

Not now. Not here. She needs me calm. I wish I at least had a jacket to give her, but I was in too much of a hurry that I didn’t get to wear one.

“Come on,” I murmur, guiding her out.

I get her to the car and open the passenger door, making sure she’s in before I close the door and move to the driver’s side. But when I glance over after starting the engine, my chest tightens all over again.