I walk into the room and climb into the bed, my eyes instantly closing to prevent more tears from escaping.
And then I wait.
I don’t hear anything, and yet my eyes fly open. They are flooded with tears, as is my pillowcase. I wipe the wetness from my face quickly. So much for sleeping to keep the tears at bay.
I sit up in bed and dig the gun out of the pocket of the leather jacket I’m wearing as I listen carefully for the intruder that I feel in my bones is her
e.
Stay alive—that’s what he said.
I almost want to die just to disobey him.
I hear nothing.
No footsteps, no creak of the floorboard or door, no talking.
It was nothing. I’m just being paranoid.
Goosebumps form on my arms even though I’m plenty warm enough with Langston’s jacket wrapped around my arms.
I smile at the reaction, knowing exactly who is on the ship.
The door opens, and I don’t even bother to lift the gun to aim.
“That was quick,” I say.
“I didn’t trust that you could keep yourself alive without me. You have a hankering for getting into trouble whenever possible.”
My smile lifts higher. He’s right—danger is constantly following me.
Langston steps further into the room. He doesn’t turn the light on, but I can make out enough of his outline and the whites of his teeth. He’s smiling. He seems happy. Wherever he went made him happy.
“Did you go see Siren? Is she doing better?” I ask, risking changing his mood in an instant for bringing up my latest sin against him.
He growls and walks around the bed before plopping down next to me. He hasn’t changed out of his clothes. He stares down at my outfit, recognizing that I haven’t changed out of my dress or even taken off my heels.
“They haven’t told you how Siren’s doing, have they?”
He looks at my face, and I know it’s true. They are keeping Siren’s status hidden from him so he won’t spiral.
“Why didn’t you aim the gun at me just now?” he changes the subject.
“Because I knew it was you.”
His brows furrow. “How?”
“I always feel when you’re near. And only you, Enzo, and Zeke are able to sneak around without making a sound. I knew it was you.”
“All the more reason you should have pointed the gun at me.”
I shrug. He’s right.
“Where were you?” I ask, not expecting him to answer.
He leans his head back against the headboard with a soft smile. “With my kids. My daughter broke her arm climbing a tree, and I needed to make sure she was okay before we left for a while.”
He turns to me. “I promised her it would be the last time I left her. I hate leaving her.”