ANGEL
It was less than twenty-four hours since I escaped, but Daniel looked different.
More strict.
Cruel.
He was dressed in all black—perfectly tailored pants, crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up showing those forearms I’d felt pinning me down more times than I could count.
He didn’t look at all like a man who’d swallowed seven sleeping pills mixed with alcohol.
He looked healthy. Strong. And terrifying as ever, easily towering over me.
This had to be a nightmare. I wanted to wake up, but instead, my knees buckled.
Daniel moved fast, one arm shot out to wrap around my waist before I hit the ground. He pulled me against that solid chest, holding me up when my legs wouldn’t work.
His body was warm. Solid. Real.
This wasn’t a dream like last night!
“Careful now,” the
