When she shakes her head again, I lean over and put a hand to her throat. She squeaks as my warm skin wraps around her, but I don’t squeeze. “I’m asking you once more, rabbit. What are you afraid of? Besides me.” She feels so small and vulnerable in my grasp. Her dark eyes widen, and she lets out a wavering exhale. “He’ll kill me,” she whispers. The words pinch past her lips, as if it hurts her to say them. My jaw ticks. Who has this girl so damn scared? Who does she fear more than the escaped felon beside her?
