18

SUNDAY

“Oh, God,” I murmured before opening my eyes. Sitting up slowly, I blinked through hazy vision, willing my gaze to focus.

A simple bedroom, one plain oak dresser, dark curtains covering the window. This was a far cry from the luxurious room where Noah had brought me. The only thing in this space that was luxe by any stretch of the imagination was the bed I woke up on. Large and soft. Like resting on a cloud. Except I didn’t know where I was. God, I had to stop waking up in strange places.

“Stay still, Miss Fallon.” Caleb’s voice tickled its way up my spine, sending an unwanted shiver through me. “You’ll tear your stitches.”

Stitches?

“What happened? Where am I?” The pain in my side brought it all back. “Kingston. Kingston tried to kill me. I knew he hated me, but not this much.” Panic had my voice tight and high.

“Calm down, Sunday. He’s not here. He’s gone.” Caleb sat on the side of the bed but didn’t touch me.

“Where is he?”

“Dead.”