***TRICIA***

A hand tapped sharply against my shoulder—once, twice—pulling me out of whatever thin, restless sleep I’d managed. My eyes fluttered open—unfocused at first, still heavy with sleep, until his figure sharpened above me.

“Get up. We leave in an hour.” His voice came out cold and low. The same way he said everything these days.

He slowly straightened raising a brow. He wore a black leather jacket strapped tightly across his broad shoulders—dark, heavy, designed with ...