We try to keep our steps light, but the metal is no better than the door and groans beneath our weight as we ascend.
Up here, the air feels denser. For a moment, it feels like I can’t take in a deep enough breath. We check the small closet first, then our room, the bathroom, and lastly, Sylvester’s room.
He’s nowhere to be found. It’s deathly quiet in here and nearly impossible to move through this place without making some type of sound. Unless he’s standing as still as a statue—he’s not here.
I’m not sure if that makes me feel better. While living with Sylvester is far from comfortable, it was still the danger you know and all that. Now the danger is as unknown as his whereabouts.
We know the beacon is still in commission and that he’s had access from the day we shipwrecked, so there’s still a chance he’s here, just not anywhere we can see.
“We need to board up the windows and door so he can’t get in,” Enzo says quietly. The way he’s talking only confirms my own fears. He speaks as if Sylvester might hear us.
“What if we’re locking him in with us?” I ask.
The corners of his eyes tighten. “We’re going to make sure we have a quick escape route.”
Before I can question how, he heads into Sylvester’s room and slides open his closet. Then, he begins tearing clothing off the hangers and extra bedsheets from a shelf above.
After our arms are full, he heads back into our bedroom and softly closes the door.
It takes me only a second to catch on when he starts stringing the material together into a rope.
“This is going to be attached to our bed at all times,” he explains. “If anything happens, this is our way out.”
I frown. “The window is nailed shut.”
“No, it’s not.”
I blink, my brow pinching as I go to investigate. I distinctly remember the nails pinning it down when we arrived.
However, when I check over it now, I find that the nails have been removed.
“When…”
“I started removing them after we got here.”
My mouth pops open. This whole time, he’s been removing them, and I never noticed. Sylvester must not have, either. It’s definitely something he would’ve spoken up about if he had.
“You sneaky dog,” I mutter, grinning at him.
He gives me a pointed look. “I may have given the impression that I was playing by his rules, bella, but I will never allow someone to imprison me.”
He stalks toward me, and I’m immediately paralyzed by his stare. It’s only when he crouches down and starts tying the makeshift rope around the leg of the bed that I realize I’m standing right in front of it.
Heart in my stomach, I take a step back, giving him room to fashion it around the post securely, and then bundle the excess under the bed.
“I’ve snuck up here a few times to loosen the window. It was stiff at first, but you should be able to get it open no problem,” he explains. “Try it just in case.”
I don’t like this scenario. One where I’m escaping alone. But it’s smart to be prepared, so I plant my hands on the window and push up. It takes effort, but it’s doable.
“Good,” he says before shoving it back down for me. “Let’s find something to eat, and then I’ll start boarding up the place.”
“I can hel—”
“You need to relax,” he interrupts.
I blink. “Enzo, it’s not the first time I’ve experienced back pain. I’m not an invalid.”
He steps into my space and catches my chin between his fingers. I gasp, and an electric shiver zips down my spine.
“I’m more than aware that you’re a capable woman, Sawyer. But that doesn’t mean I won’t take care of you.”
My mouth falls open, but nothing escapes. There isn’t a coherent thought in my brain. I’m sure I look no different than a dopey dog. Look into their eyes and see nothing in there.
His stare drops to my parted lips and locks for a few seconds before he focuses on me again.
“Capito?”
“Yes,” I whisper, understanding what he’s asking for.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, a note of approval in his tone as he leans in and places a soft kiss on my forehead.
My heart might as well be an overheated baked potato. It's exploding in my chest while my whole body is flushed.
His approval shouldn’t make me feel proud, yet it does. With one last loaded look, he nods in the direction of the door and then prowls toward it, the expectation to follow clear.