Page 171 of Mile High Ruin

“Except leaving.”

He says nothing. That silence answers more clearly than he could.

I step back. “Do you even hear yourself?”

“I hear you perfectly.”

“No, I don’t think you do. You think because you’re keeping me comfortable it somehow changes the fact that I’m not allowed to decide where I live.”

“There are people trying to kill me who have already used you once.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know enough.”

“And apparently that means you get to decide everything.”

His expression hardens. “When your decision puts you in danger, yes.”

I stare at him. “There it is.”

“What?”

“The part where you stop pretending.”

Something in his face closes.

I know I’ve pushed too far, but at the moment, I don’t care.

“I need air.”

“Sloane.”

I turn away. He catches my wrist, but lightly enough that I pull free without effort.

“Not now,” I tell him.

He releases me.

That somehow makes me angrier.

I walk through the terrace doors and down the steps into the garden before he can say anything else. The cool air hits my face immediately, and I keep walking.

Not toward the gate.

I’m angry, not stupid. At least that’s what I tell myself.

The garden stretches around the house in carefully maintained paths bordered by hedges, flowering shrubs and old trees whose branches disappear into the dark sky. Somewhere behind me, music is still playing faintly through the open terrace doors, and every few seconds I hear a burst of laughter from inside.

I should go back. I should apologize.

I should tell Vadim about Viktor.

Instead, I keep moving. The farther I get from the house, the quieter everything becomes. I’m passing the eastern hedge when movement catches my eye.

At first I think it’s one of the security men, but then the figure steps into the path.

Camille.