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Then my gaze lands on Zoey, and suddenly I can breathe easy again.

She’s awake, sitting cross-legged on a bed against the far wall. Her white tank top and blue shorts stand out against the stark gray walls. They’re too bright and too soft in a place like this.

Her golden hair lands right below her shoulders, but it’s the soft flush of color in her cheeks that’s a relief. A welcome contrast to the pale, lifeless pallor I last saw. She’s not out of danger, but she’s alive, and right now that’s enough. The insulin bought her some time. That alone makes every bruise, every broken rib, every gaping knife wound in my side worth it.

Her eyes flick to mine, sharp blue meeting green, and the reaction on her face cuts through the haze of pain.

A faint smile touches her lips, but only for a second before her brows knife together and her focus narrows on me. “Cole,” she breathes. Her voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You’re awake.”

“Yeah,” I rasp, my throat as rough as sandpaper. It almost sounds like I swallowed gravel.

I push up onto my elbow, but agony spears through my ribs, and I freeze when my muscles lock. Zoey swings her legs over the edge of the bed. Her footsteps are light. Her bare feet don’t make a sound against the floor.

She’s at my side in seconds, even though the rope around her wrist pulls taut as she moves. I follow the length of it with my eyes until I see it knotted around a metal loop embedded in the cinderblock wall. She’s still a prisoner, even here outside the cell block.

“Are you okay?” Her voice pulls my gaze, and I see her electric blue eyes fill with concern.

“Fine.” The lie is automatic, and I can tell from the way her eyes narrow that we both know it.

“You don’t sound fine.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

I sigh, then flinch when the motion pulls at the stitches in my side. “I’m fine,” I repeat, sharper this time. “And I’d do it all over again, so stop feeling guilty.”

Her expression hardens. She doesn’t like that answer. Good. She shouldn’t. Maybe she’ll dislike it enough to stay away. All I can offer her is pain. Yet, she doesn’t take her eyes off of me.

She moves closer. Her feet pad softly across the floor until she’s standing only a breath away from my cot, that I’m also tied to. Her voice drops. It’s quieter now. “You shouldn’t have to.”

The words sting more than I expect them to. I don’t answer. I don’t know how to answer.

“Well, I’m glad I finally get to see your face, even though we both almost died.” She changes the subject. “You’re even more handsome than I imagined.”

The words hit me like a punch. Me? Handsome? She’s kind, but she has to be joking.

A bitter chuckle rumbles at the back of my throat. “You don’t see it?”

“See what?”

“The monster everyone else sees.”

Zoey kneels down. Her non-roped hand grips the back of the chair beside my cot and she leans forward. “No,” he says without a moment of hesitation. “I don’t. Not even a little.”

The sincerity in her conviction shakes something loose inside me. Something I’ve tried to bury for years. I was already obsessed with her when I knew I could never have her, but if she keeps looking at me like this, then we’re going to have a situation.

Caring too much, giving too much, it always backfires. Every time.

“I’ve cared about people before,” I admit to my ownsurprise. “More than anyone has ever cared about me. It doesn’t end well, so you don’t need to be nice or pity me. I don’t expect anything from you.”

She tilts her head and watches me so closely that it unnerves me. The look in her eyes is unapologetic and bold, like there’s fire in her veins. “Well, you should.”

I scoff. “Why is that?”

“Because I care about you. Even before you saved my life.”

The words slam into me. Her unwavering conviction shifts the air, making it hard to breathe. This time, it’s not from the bruised rib. It’s from her, the woman sitting in front of me, defiant and unbroken despite the greatest attempts of the world around her that’s shrouded in chaos.

I open my mouth, close it, and then open it again. I can’t look away. “Do you mean that?”

“Every word.”