Page 81 of Vega

For several seconds, I couldn’t catch my breath. I held it without meaning to, my lungs locked while the room slowly came back into focus around me.

I dragged both hands over my hair and knocked my bonnet loose. It fell somewhere behind me, but I didn’t care.

I needed out of that room. I had been unchained for a few days, but that wasn’t enough. The captivity was bringing old fears back to the surface I had worked too hard to bury. I had spent years convincing myself I was no longer the powerless little girl waiting for an adult to decide when I could eat, where I could go, and whether I deserved basic kindness.

Now, once again, somebody else controlled the door.

It didn’t matter that Vega brought me food, books, puzzles, or a laptop. It didn’t matter that the room was clean and comfortable.

A cage with nice furniture was still a cage.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Vega stepped inside. “You okay?”

I blinked, slowly taking him in, because that was the only way to take in such beauty. He stood there wearing black basketball shorts and nothing else. His eyes were low, as if he hadn’t been awake long, and his hair was slightly tousled like he had slept without wearing a durag. A silver chain rested against his bare chest, surrounded by tattoos that stretched across thick muscles and disappeared beneath the waistband of his shorts.

For a moment, I forgot about the nightmare.

Then I finally figured out something smart to say to ground myself. “Were you watching me?”

“When I woke up, I heard you talking in your sleep. Then I heard you gasp.”

My mind caught the detail immediately. “Then your room must be close to mine.”

Vega tilted his head and laughed quietly. “You still trying to figure shit out while you’re upset?”

I stared at him.

He stepped farther into the room. “Are you okay, nerd?”

“No.”

The amusement left his face.

“I need out of this room,” I groaned.

His expression hardened slightly.

“I’m not asking you to let me leave the house,” I clarified. “I’m asking you to stop locking me inside one room.” I swallowed, trying to control the tremor in my voice. “I grew up trapped. I lived in places where adults controlled everything and didn’t care whether the kids were scared, hurt, or miserable. We had no choices. We couldn’t leave. We couldn’t call anybody who would come get us.”

He watched me closely.

“I worked hard to stop feeling like that little girl. I built a life where every decision belonged to me. I chose my apartment, my job, my clothes, what I ate, when I slept. Now I’m right back in a room waiting for someone else to unlock the door.” My voice broke, and I hated it. “This is bringing everything back. I can’t keep waking up feeling like I’m still there. I was a hostage, hostage to my situation, hostage to my trauma, hostage to the people that didn’t love me… and now I’m hostage all over again to this room.”

Vega stared at me so intensely that heat gathered beneath my skin. His gaze should’ve made me uncomfortable. Instead, my body reacted as if it wanted to disappear inside his.

“Promise me you won’t run,” he said.

“I won’t.”

His expression made it clear he didn’t believe me.

Vega reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out his phone. He unlocked it before approaching the bed.

The closer he came, the harder it became to breathe normally. He was unfairly sexy without appearing to know it or care how he flaunted it. His chest was broad and covered in ink, his stomach was tight with defined muscles, and every movement made those muscles shift beneath his toffee skin. His beard looked slightly rougher than usual, and sleep still rested in his eyes.

He stopped beside me and held out the phone. “Look.”

The first photograph showed Donovan after they pulled him from the lake. His skin had taken on a pale, grayish color and water still clung to his hair and beard. His clothes were soaked and plastered against his body, while lake debris caught along the fabric near his shoulders. His face looked swollen and his lips were discolored.