Enver Williams is leading on a normal life but that is all ripped away from her when she is taken from her home town.
When Enver comes to realize that there are others like her in more ways than one, she is determined to free herself and her newfou...
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"Lockdown."
"What? Why?"
"Someone has either entered or exited the premises." My eyes widen as emotions flood my head. Has someone found us? Are we being rescued? Did Decklin get out? I stare at Holloways tense frame.
He's muttering short, angry words under his breath. One of his arms swings up and crashes onto the door he stands before. The alarm is still blaring, making my head hurt. I press two fingers to my temples to stop the pounding with no success.
A hand gently grasps my upper arm. My eyes trail up the arm it's connected to, following it up to his ocean eyes only to see that the storm has calmed inside them. "Come with me," I want to argue but his soft pulling gives me no choice. He's being strangely gentle. He leads me through a familiar door and as soon as my eyes settle on the room behind it the memories flood in.
We're back in his bathroom. He closes the door and the siren is finally dampened. The relief is almost instant, my headache dissipating. The room is stuffed full with an awkward silence. I twist at the sleeves of my jumpsuit.
"Why do you do that?' his confident voice cuts through the tension. I try to pretend I didn't hear him, but he knows I did. His voice tenses every muscle in my body. One word can set my face aflame.
"Do what?" the words dive from my lips. He points to my hands and as soon as he does I whip them behind my back. "I don't know."
"You do, you just don't know how to say it."
"Do you know?"
"Of course I do," my brow furrows and my hands are now crossed in front of my chest.
"Well then why the hell did you ask me?" he gives me a look and assumes it's a satisfactory answer. I don't have time for his mind games.
Another dose of silence is added to the air.
"Do I make you nervous, Enver?" Another idiotic question.
"Wouldn't a man who kidnapped you and threatened to kill you make you nervous?" I snap at him. He only smiles an odd, crooked grin. I can make that disappear. "Wouldn't a murderer make you nervous?" Now it's my turn to pull the strings. He looks at me with hurt in his eyes and guilt creeps on my shoulders.
"How many times do I have to say it?" he pauses, I guess hoping for some sort of mercy in my eyes, "I didn't kill her."
"Liar!" I shout.
"Why won't you believe me?!"
"Would you believe yourself?"
"It wasn't me who shot her," he sits on a stool, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Then how do you know she was shot?"
"I saw it. I saw him kill her." his voice was riddled with such pure vulnerability and pain that it begged me to believe him.
