BRIAN

Daisy’s breathing had finally leveled out into a deep, exhausted sleep against my shoulder, her small fingers still desperately hooked into the collar of my tactical vest as if she were terrified I would vanish the second she let go.

I didn't move. I stayed pinned beneath her weight, my eyes fixed on the ceiling in the dark, my hand resting heavily over the small of her back. The toxic bitterness that had been rotting in my ribs all night was completely gone, replaced by a dark, suffocating possessiveness that made it hard to breathe.

I had been furious with her. I had spent seven days rotting in a...