Saige’s [POV]

It tastes like fresh air. My fingers tease the window frame.

An iron grip closes around my left arm, drags me away from freedom, and slams my back against the bathroom wall. Hard.

If I didn’t have Rylan’s right hand wrapped around my throat, I’d be gasping like a fish, but all I could do was fight to breathe as tiny pinpricks of light danced across my vision.

“Check him,” Rylan barks.

I don’t know who he’s talking to, and the sudden flow of ...