Before I can second-guess the instinct, I scoop her up into my arms and carry her into the house. It feels like she weighs nothing to all, despite her soaked clothes. She doesn’t open her eyes or resist at all.
The laundry room is empty when I walk in. Two huge washing machines loom on one side of the room and two dryers on the other.
In the middle, between the machines, is a long wooden table that the maids use for folding and organizing. I set Elyssa down on top of it, fighting the wave of nostalgia that hits me instantly.
We’ve done this before.
I saved her. Carried her to freedom. And then…
Growling wordlessly, I retreat to the door and close it. I grab two fresh towels off the rack in the corner and head back to her.
The shivering has subsided somewhat, but tremors still run thr
