Hailey's POV
The gas burned my throat even after the bathroom was sealed, it was sharp and chemical, like crushed metal chased with citrus.
Every breath felt borrowed, thin, filtered through damp fabric and stubborn will. Kingsley pushed me fully into the shower stall, his body following immediately, the glass door sliding shut with a soft click that sounded obscene in the silence—too neat, too final.
He moved fast, not frantic, it was precise. Wet towels were jammed under the bathroom door, shoved into the vent, pressed into every seam where air might come in.
He used his shoulder to nudge the vanity aside an inch, just enough to give himself a better angle. He didn't hesitate one bit.
I pressed my palm to the tile to steady myself. It was cold and slick. My pulse thunder
