I inspect her closely. There’s a hint of relief in her eyes, but she still looks unsure.
“I’m happy he’s dead, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about our situation,” I correct. “You’re in a lot of trouble, and it’s going to be difficult to get you out.”
Her brow pinches. “Enzo, I don’t expect you to save me.”
“That’s because no one has ever found you worth saving.” Her mouth drops, offended, and I take the opportunity to hook her bottom teeth with two fingers and tug her into me. She nearly falls against my chest. “They were wrong, baby. You are worth it.”
She digs her little teeth into my digits, and I grin, releasing her.
“I’m capable of saving myself,” she tells me, fire in her eyes.
“You are,” I agree, brushing my thumb across her cheek affectionately. “You’ve already proven that when you ended your abuser’s life. But you’re not alone anymore. Now you have someone to serve you while you seek justice.”
She blinks. “This didn’t go how I thought it would,” she confesses in a hushed tone. She looks scared again; this time, I know it’s because she doesn’t want to get her hopes up.
Giving in, I softly kiss her lips. “We’ve known nothing but heartbreak. Maybe we can show each other something different this time, yeah?”
Her lips curl upward, just the slightest bit, then she nods and whispers, “Yeah.”
“And we’re going to figure this out together. First, we just need to get the fuck off this island.”
Again, she nods, her blue eyes shinier than usual.
Satisfied,I release her and head toward the bathroom for a shower when I hear someone moving around downstairs.
Not just their footsteps, but the sound of chains dragging.
“What’s that sound?” she whispers.
“Someone is in here. We’re not alone anymore.”
“Enzo,” Sawyer hedges hesitantly. “Don’t go down there.”
“It’s just a ghost, right?” I ask over my shoulder. “It can’t hurt me.”
She huffs with frustration, quietly slinking up to my side. “And we’ve been overthis. If they can hit a solid object, they can hit you—another solid object. I mean, really, Enzo. You need to watch more movies.”
“They’re fake,” I argue.
“But some of them are based on real stories!” she whisper-yells.
“They’re grossly exaggerated.”
Her little fists are balled, and she’s scowling at me. It’s pretty cute, but the person—thing—whatever it is, moves something, and it’s loud enough to draw my attention away.
“Stay up here,” I murmur, ignoring her little mewl of disappointment while I grab the shotgun. Staying light on my feet, I head toward the staircase.
Of course, Sawyer doesn’t stay, falling in step behind me. She plasters herself to my back, nearly tripping me as we make our way down, the gun poised in my hands.
I’m tense, and when the bottom floor comes into view, I quickly sweep my gaze across every inch.
There’s no one here.
I pause at the bottom step, sensing the stagnant energy in the room.
“Oh, man, this is fucked,” Sawyer whines quietly, shifting on her feet and causing the metal beneath us to groan. “Can we go upst—”
“Baby. Shut the fuck up.”