5

My eyes snapped open to a dark room.

Pitch blackness.

My heart raced, still caught in the nightmare that had jolted me awake. Whatever sleep I'd managed to grab, Roman had chased me through it, hot on my heels as I fled across the bridge at Sector Five. I didn't look back, didn't dare risk looking over my shoulder. If you don't see the monster, it won't catch you.

But I knew he was there, a breath away from grabbing me, and all I could do was run, run until my legs ached, run until my muscles quivered, run until sweat coated my skin and pain stabbed my side. And no matter how fast I ran, the other end of the bridge never got any nearer.

I wasn't on the bridge now.

I wasn't in that six-by-six cell at the wall.

I was in my own bed, clutching the bedcovers as my breaths slowed and the panic dissipated.

A glance at my watch showed it was early evening. I'd slept the day away. I lay there another long minute, listening to the cabin's groans and creaks. The drapes were drawn closed, but it sounded like a storm was brewing outside. Not unusual for this time of the year. Winter was creeping up on us. Soon the storms would turn icy and the days would be cut short.

I couldn't hear any sounds to indicate Roman was up and about. Then again, he wasn't a noisy person.

After a quick shower, I dressed for comfort in sweatpants, a hoodie I could drown in, and fluffy socks. At some point, Roman had turned on the heating, but AC couldn't wrap me in the kind of warmth my soul was craving.

When I drew open the drapes, I saw why the room was so much darker than normal. The wooden shutters on the outside of the window had been latched.

The window cracked open about an inch before it hit the shutter.

Sudden claustrophobia squeezed the breath in my lungs.

I was locked in.

Trapped.

Heart pounding, I spun about and charged out of the room, down the short passage to—the door leading into the living area stood wide open.

I wasn't locked in.

I put a hand to the doorjamb, another hand to my thudding heart.

Roman looked up from where he sat at the oak kitchen table with a mug of coffee. He must have seen something in my eyes, because his brow dipped. "What's wrong?"

"Why did you shutter the window?" I hated the panic in my voice, turning my words into breathless whispers.

I was not this weak.

I refused to be this weak.

"To keep the room dark so you could sleep," he said. "I went to check on you earlier and the sunlight was filtering through the gaps in the drapes."

"Oh, okay…" That was thoughtful. My gaze drifted to the expresso pot on the stove.

"The coffee's fresh," he said. "Would you like a cup?"

"I'll get it."

"Feeling better after your sleep?"

I gave a small nod as I passed him to get to the stove. I felt rested, less cotton-brained, if not exactly better about everything that happened.

Roman stood and brought his mug over to the sink. "I have to go out."

"Work?"

"I shouldn't be home late," was his only answer.

I shrugged and took my coffee with me to the armchair. The glass sliding door was closed against the howling raging outside. Roman didn't attempt further conversation. I didn't breathe freely until I heard him gathering his things and leave.

I didn't know how to deal with him.

Scrap that, I didn't know how to deal with my feelings about him.

I should be grateful. I did realize that. He'd gone way and beyond a husband's duty to save me from a stint in rehab. Turns out, the great betrayal was yet another lie, a different kind of lie. He'd betrayed me to protect me.

But he'd still betrayed me—I couldn't shake that, no matter how he excused it. He'd betrayed my trust in him, in us. The past twenty-four hours wouldn't allow me to forget just how long my trust had been misplaced.

Sector Five.

The Outerlanders.

Restless energy tickled my bones as I sat there, sipping on my coffee, staring at the gusts of wind sweeping through the treetops. As miserable as the weather outside was, I was desperate to walk off the stiffness in my muscles.

I jumped up and slid open the glass door. The cold air rushed in, whipping my hair around my face. I didn't mind. I stood there and closed my eyes, enjoying the sting of freedom. My feet itched to run through the swaying trees, to chase that sweet adrenaline rush and clear my head.

I didn't, and not because I was afraid of Roman. The little things about him that had gotten lost in the fog of yesterday were starting to return to me. Of course Roman hadn't handed me over to the Guard as a warning, or to teach me lesson. He'd never cared about me breaking the rules, so long as I didn't get caught.

So no, I wasn't afraid of Roman and his house-arrest order.

But I wasn't a wrecking ball either.

The entire Guard squad likely knew about my transgression, and certainly the council did. It would look bad for both Roman and me if I were spotted out and about as if I didn't have a care in the world.