I sleepily walked down the stairs, after very little sleep, yet again. This time, there had been little to no visions of Isla that I remembered. My dreams were overtaken by visions of Bailey. And not in a pleasant way either. Visions of her being tortured. By a man I could not see. A man I could not identify. Yet his voice was the one on the phone…
I woke up multiple times drenched in sweat, struggling to settle because I was desperate to go and check if she was okay. Yet, I knew I could not. Knew that I had to give her the space she had wanted. She had not wanted me there. I needed to know who this man was that had spoken to her like that. The moment she had rushed from my suite I had been on edge. Zion was the same. The urge to protect her was like nothing else I had experienced, and it
