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Every time I close my eyes, I see Ethan’s face looming over mine, his features twisted with hate and madness.

“Piper,” Noah calls through the door.

I jerk my head up, getting a face full of water. “Yeah?” I sputter.

His concerned tone makes me think it’s not the first time he’s called my name.

“You okay? You’ve been in there a long time.”

I’m not okay, and I can’t lie and say I am this time. But I manage to shut off the water.

“Piper?”

I open my mouth to answer, but the tears flow harder.

“Cover up,” he commands. “I’m coming in.”

I reach around the shower curtain and grasp hold of a towel. It’s soft and fluffy, nicer than the cheap ones I have at home. Still kneeling, I wrap it around myself, covering all my important parts just in time.

Noah pushes through the door and then nudges the curtain aside. When he sees me huddled in the tub, tears streaming down my face, he shoves it the rest of the way. The curtainrings slide on the rod, making a metallic noise that echoes in the small, tiled space.

I look up at Noah. He’s in soft workout shorts and a T-shirt again, ready for bed.

“Tissue?” I manage, knowing I’m a mess.

He frowns as he grabs several from the box on the metal shelf above the toilet and hands them to me. Then he kneels his big self outside the tub, resting his elbows on the ledge. I can tell he’s hating himself right now, but he doesn’t say anything.

“He wanted to kill me.” Tears stream down my face, hot and ugly. “Even though I remembered Cassian said I wouldn’t die by choking, I thought he might accomplish it.”

My hair is stuck together in a wet, tangled mess at my back, and it’s saturating the towel. Water runs down my face, mingling with my tears.

“Can you hand me another towel?” I ask.

Immediately, Noah rises and fetches a rolled one from next to the tissue box.

I open it up and drop my face into it. “I forgot to bring my clothes in.”

“I’ll get your suitcase.”

Noah comes back a minute later with my bag. “I’ll step outside.”

“Okay.”

As soon as I’m alone, I dry off and pull on my sleep shorts. Through the door, I say, “I’m tired of being a damsel in distress.”

“We can do more self-defense training,” Noah answers.

I choose a camisole with a built-in shelf bra and pull it over my head. “We probably should, but that’s not what I mean. I just want people to leave us alone.”

Noah is quiet, which means he’s probably drowning in guilt.

I hang up the towel and open the door, finding him waiting on the other side. “Let’s go to bed.”

I take an extra dose of blood, as Cassian instructed, and then crawl under the covers.

Thanks to the night’s events, our sleeping arrangement is the least of my concerns. It must not be high on Noah’s list either, because he shifts in close behind me and pulls me against him like he’s settling in for the night.

“Is this okay?” he asks, his breath against my neck.