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“Where is he?” someone else in the room asks. I’m not sure who he’s talking about, and I can’t ask. I’ve tried and the blood running down my cheek is proof they didn’t like being questioned. I was supposed to magically know who they were talking about.

“She’s going to tell us one way or the other,” a third voice fills the air. I don’t know how many there are anymore. A new voice appears every second, or my mind is playing tricks on me.

I open my mouth to say something, anything at this point, but nothing comes out. No words, no sounds. Even when the burning travels along my torso up my chest.

That was the last time I spoke.

It’s been three years, and I haven’t uttered a word. No one understands, and truth be told I don’t either. I think I can, but I can’t. I’m weak and broken. I’m that scared seventeen-year-old, stuck inside the room being beaten because of who I was. I never asked to be born into the mafia. I never asked for any of this. But because Henry hated my father and because my brother killed someone who turned against him, Billy and Nathen’s father decided Tobias’s sister was the best revenge.

I hate them.

I hate them.

I hate them.

I’m grabbing the curtain from the shower before I know what I’m doing, pulling it down. It’s not enough, and my focus turns towards the toilet. Yanking the lid from the toilet tank, I throw it across the bathroom. The mirror smashes, glass flying everywhere. Picking a piece up, I flip it through my fingers. Nicking my thumb, my lips stretch into a smile. Crimson blood runs down my hand, the satisfying itch bringing the calm rushing into my chest. I can finally breathe. It’s beautiful.

“BLAKE!” Jace's voice breaks into my thoughts. “OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” He bellows. Biting my lip, peeking around the destroyed bathroom, I cringe. All that just to have it ruined with reality.

“I swear if you don’t open the door in the next two seconds, I will be breaking it down. On—” Yanking the door open, I stand before him. Jace sighs in relief only to stop the moment his eyes land on the mess behind him.

“Blake.”

All he says is my name and I know I truly fucked up. I acted like a toddler, and now he’s going to scream and yell at me.

“What the fuck did you do?” he asks.

Shrugging, I glance over my shoulder. I know exactly what I have done. I panicked, needed control, and just like everything else in my life, I ruined it.

“Sunshine,” he mumbles.

My veins grow cold, my heart freezes, and I’m snapping my head up. Expecting Jace to be angry, to be red in the face, and ready to yell at me. He tilts his head to the side…and he looks sad. I don’t like that look. I don’t want him to be angry, but I also don’t want him to be sad. He shouldn’t be sad. I’m just a job to him, but the way he’s looking at me… It’s something else, something more. But it can’t be more.

Ican’t be more.

I’m ruined.

Shaking my head, I point around him towards the bed. That’s what I need, a good night’s rest, and I’ll be all good tomorrow. I’ll be back to my angry self, hating the world, and ignoring Jace as I do with everyone else.

He nods his head as if I spoke aloud to him. Moving out of the way, I climb into the bed furthest to the front door. It doesn’t matter which bed I choose. Once he goes to bed, I’ll be locking myself in the bathroom again. I just need him to go to sleep.

***

The thing about not being able to sleep, is every little sound is as if it’s right next to you. So, when the motel doorknob rattles, I hear it instantly. I sit up clutching the blanket against my chest, glancing around the bathroom that somewhat remains a mess. At some point, Jace had cleaned it after receiving the pizza. It wasn’t long after that he got into bed himself and his soft snores had filled the room. The moment I heard him snore I was up and into the bathroom, locking the door and lying in the tub. I was able to get maybe an hour of sleep before I awoke, and now the rattling sounds fill the room.

I sit up, moving the blanket off just as the sound of a gunshot rings out. I flinch, my body freezes, and my breathing picks up.

Jace.

The adrenaline floods my system. Shoving the blanket off me, I’m swinging my leg over the tub. My foot gets caught in the covers as I go to take a step.The first thing you don’t want to happen when you’re in a rush and scared that you’re about to get attacked is to fall face-first. Of course, I have about as much grace as a fucking panda bear, and the tile floor smacks against my forehead. My vision blurs. Reaching up, I wince the moment my fingers touch my head. Pulling back, blood covers my fingertips.

Well, fuck.

“Blake,” Jace's voice filters in above me. Glancing up, something hits me—relief, he’s alive. I didn’t realize in this short amount of time I had grown some sort of attachment. And I’m not sure I like the idea of that. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, bending down. “What happened?” he asks.

Tilting my head to the side, butterflies swarm inside my stomach. Why is he asking what happened? Why does he care? I’m a job.

The rattling of the motel door with harsh voices stops me from trying to even explain that I’m just clumsy and a danger to myself.