Chapter Thirty-Seven
My wardrobe had never felt so utterly, hopelessly inadequate.
For the past two hours, the bed in Jake’s room had looked like a textile explosion. Denim jackets, simple cotton tees, a few pairs of dark jeans, and the one semi-nice casual dress I had managed to bring with me when I was first brought to the compound were strewn across the dark sheets.
I stood in front of the full-length mirror in my undergarments, clutching a forest-green knit long-sleeve to my chest, my heart hammering a chaotic, frantic rhythm against my ribs.
I was panicking.
It was a completely different kind of panic than the cold, paralyzing terror of being locked in Marcus’s basement or facing Amber’s blade. This was a dizzying, stomach-churning anxiety that made my hands shake and my throat g
