CHAPTER 12
He’s gone.
The biker whose name I only found out last night has disappeared.
Shock, panic, and a small but concentrated sense of regret clash inside my chest as I sink into the chair where I ate my last few dinners right across from him while he sat up in bed. Where did he go?
And why did he leave without saying goodbye?
The front doorknob suddenly rattles, jarring me from my thoughts.
Waylon!
I jump up, prepared to rush forward and open the door for him.
But then I realize he managed to escape from the bed I kept him chained to like an animal for days. How about if he didn’t come back to thank me for patching him up? And what if he’s not alone?
On second thought, I reverse course toward the storage closet where I hid all the knives.
But before I make it there, Waylon
