POV: Frank
The hallway to the east wing was long, silent, and entirely too cold.
I didn't care about the cold. My skin was a furnace, running at a temperature that would have registered as a medical emergency for any human being on the planet. I held Kim against my chest, her head tucked securely under my chin, her breathing shallow and ragged.
Jake walked a half-step behind us, his hand resting firmly on the small of her back. He wasn't crowding her; he was guarding her. We were a single, synchronized unit, a massive weight moving through the shadows of The Den, reclaiming what had been briefly lost.
We reached her room.
I pushed the heavy oak door open with my shoulder, the hinges silent. The room was exactly as she’d left it—the bed neatly made, the lamp casting that soft, amber gl
