He gave me one last unreadable glance before leaving the room.
I quickly cleaned up and crawled into bed, my mind already racing. Eventually, the lights in his room went out. I lay still, straining to hear—waiting for the shift in his breathing, the stillness that meant he’d fallen asleep.
When the silence deepened, I slipped out from the covers and crept through the dark. I moved as quietly as I could, careful with every step, hoping to sneak back to my old room.
But the door wouldn’t budge. I pressed, pulled, twisted the handle—but nothing worked. It was locked.
“That door needs a key to open. And you don’t have it,” came Hunter’s voice from his bed, calm yet firm.
I froze, torn between defiance and obedience. But when he spoke again—calm, low, and unyielding—I knew resistance was
