Sanctuary (the Affliction Trilogy #2)

Chapter 10

Ten

T he six of us rush through our simple morning routine, sharing the last of our protein bars and putting the visitor center back the way we found it. Armed with our makeshift weapons, we head out to follow the Grasser Trail to Thunderhead Mountain.

Excited energy buzzes around us, but we don't let our guard down. We stay close together as all signs of civilization disappear, and we're swallowed by the rugged terrain of the Fumux Mountains.

The summer sun beats down on us while a breeze blowing through the hills helps to counteract its effects. Even though we're not hiking the trail for fun, I'm captivated by the surrounding beauty. A thick layer of leafy green vines sprinkled with tiny red berries covers the ground. Purple and yellow wildflowers are everywhere, and massive ancient trees supply us with plenty of shade. And we haven’t spotted a single Z. It's almost like Mother Nature is giving us a reprieve on what we hope is our last day of traveling.

After hours of hiking, we come to the base of Thunderhead Mountain. Using my hands to block the sun from my eyes, I look at the top wondering where the people could be. Other than occasionally spotting an animal scurrying away, there has been no sign of life. I don't know what I'm expecting to find—a thriving community made up of wooden structures or a camp of tents. The last thing I think it will be is an exact replica of Stern before the quarantine.

I take a seat on an enormous boulder next to the trail, resting my head in my hands.

“Maybe we have to hike to the top, and there will be another clue up there,” Wes says.

I sigh and say to myself, “The clues have been pointing to here from the start.”

“Let's not overthink it,” Noah says, pacing back and forth. “The last clues have been simple, even a child could have put them together. I bet the answer is in plain view.”

Ryland runs his hands over his face. “If you were offering people safety, knowing everything that we know, where would you go?”

“You'd have to be able to control the environment. If you wanted everyone to be safe, you can't be out in the open,” Aiden states with his hands on his hips, looking up at the mountain.

“What do we consider being the safest places we've been?” Noah asks.

River replies, “Ms. Angela's safe house.”

I mumble out loud, “Home—the bunker.”

Ryland spins around and says, “Let's walk around the mountain. I think the entry is in plain view.”

I sit upright and stare up at the peak. “You think the Sanctuary is inside of it?”

“Maybe.” He stands in front of me and offers me his hand. “Let's go find out.”

We spend the rest of the day searching the base of the mountain. I don’t think we’ve even covered half of the perimeter when the sun sinks below the tree-lined mountain tops and the night chill sets in. I rub my arms and look up at the neon hued clouds. I stop walking and press the heel of my hands to my eyes. No. Dehydration and hunger have me hallucinating, thinking of the comforts we once had at the house in Devil’s Lake.

“Is that?—”

“Solar panels?” Ryland finishes for me.

“Yeah, it is,” Noah answers. “Maybe we need to head that way.”

Ryland shoves his hands in his pockets and shakes his head. “Maybe, but we won’t know until morning. We aren’t walking through those fields in the dark.”

I blow out a puff of air and sink onto a boulder. So close, yet nowhere near where I want to be.

“We’ll make camp in the trees over there and start walking again at first light,” Ryland says.

Aiden continues to stare at the fields, his head tilted to the side. “If people are here, isn’t it strange that we haven’t seen a single Z since we reached the dome?”

It is weird. Even in Morhaven, I’d heard about Zs roaming outside the walls, sensing their favorite meal dwelled inside. I have to wonder if the Sanctuary no longer exists, and we came all this way for nothing.

Ryland stands shoulder to shoulder with him and says, “I don’t know. Remember how the Oscuros border guard said the Zs were trained to know to stay away. Maybe the Sanctuary has done the same thing.”

“That would be wild,” Wes says, sitting on the ground by my legs and propping his arms over his bent knees. “This whole time we could have been training them like dogs.”

River snorts a laugh. “Dogs that would eat your hand and then the rest of you. It’s probably close to impossible to do unless you have some kind of controlled environment.”

“True,” Ryland says, turning back to face us. “Either way, we’ll take guard shifts tonight. I’m not risking anything or anyone sneaking up on us.”

My stomach growls as we all lie huddled together in the thick brush under a massive pine tree. We haven’t eaten since this morning. I’m tempted to start pulling bark from the trees and gnawing on it.

“It’s going to work out,” Ryland whispers from beside me.

“It always does,” I say, releasing a long breath.

And it does always work out. We find our way back to each other, we overcome the Zs, we stumble upon food. We struggle to survive every day and succeed. But fuck, I wish we didn’t have to do that.

“I just don’t understand why finding this place has to be so damn hard. Why can’t it?—”

The sound of rumbling has my eyes going wide as I shoot upright. I scurry forward with everyone following me. All of us stay low in the bushes.

A set of headlights moves along the side of the field, steadily getting closer. It’s hard to see in the dark, but it looks large, like some kind of military transport vehicle.

None of us say a word, watching to see where it goes. It continues to move in our direction, and sure enough it is a military truck. We scoot back and duck a little lower even though it is still a hundred yards out. And then it disappears. Like gone.

“What the fuck,” Wes whispers.

Noah scrambles to his feet. Not looking way from where the vehicle was, he grabs his backpack and slings it over his shoulder. “It’s an optical illusion. The land slants down that way, so it went underground.”

“A tunnel into the mountain,” Ryland says, following his lead.

“Yep.”

We hurry to our feet, grab our belongings, and race forward, no longer afraid of what could be lurking in the night. Loose rocks and fallen branches trip us up, but they don’t stop us from hurrying down the hill.

When we reach where the truck disappeared, the last of my breath leaves my body. We were unable to see it from above—the enormous concrete archway, leading into the mountain.

After months of piecing together riddles, trudging through sweltering heat, and fighting the Afflicted, we're coming to the end of our journey. It's hard to believe this is real.

I gaze at the top of the opening, craning my neck back as excitement and terror rip through me. This is our future—the place we might live out the rest of our days. And we have no clue what awaits us inside.

“Are you ready?” Ryland asks from beside me.

I meet his green eyes full of the same divided emotions I feel, but with an extra dash of trust. It was my idea to find refuge here, and my boyfriend has completely entrusted me to make the right call for all of us. I adore how he holds me in such high esteem, but I wish the weight of this moment wasn't solely placed on me.

I lace my fingers between his. “Am I making the right decision? What if this isn't any better than the other communities we've run into?”

“What if it is?” he counters with a smile.

I glance at the others; they're filthy and worn from our journey. It wasn't always bad. We've made many fond memories throughout the months. We've created epic stories that we'll hopefully share with our children, and they will pass them down to theirs. Now it’s time to settle in a place we can call home and to find some stability. I have to believe this is the right thing to do.

With a firm nod, I say, “I'm ready, let's go.”

The tunnel is wide, tall, and lit by electricity. It's constructed of sturdy, gray concrete that's more than capable of withstanding a high-magnitude earthquake, let alone a Z attack. As we descend under the mountain, our footsteps echoing throughout the space. Well inside the passageway, it forks. At the end of one side sits a closed, metal garage door and to the other, the entrance to the facility. It’s a heavy-duty steel door guarded by two armed soldiers in military fatigues. They position their hands over the guns holstered at their hips and stare us down with steely stares.

“Hands where we can see them,” a guard says, his voice booming around us.

We come to a halt and do as he commands.

On unsteady legs, I step forward. “We're looking to take refuge with the Sanctuary.”

“In order to grant you entry, you will need to disarm and leave your backpacks out here. Any non-permitted items will be removed from your belongings, and the rest will be returned to you once you pass a security check,” the other soldier explains.

I glance at Ryland. He removes the revolver from the back of his pants and places it in a plastic container being held out to us. His willingness to abide by the command is all I need to follow suit. I unstrap my knife from my waist, setting it next to his gun. One by one, we rid ourselves of the items we've used to protect ourselves, succumbing to the fate that awaits us within the walls of the Sanctuary.

I shift from side to side under the pointed gaze of one of the guards as the other pulls a walkie-talkie from his pocket and radios to someone. My hands shake and sweat beads at my forehead while we wait. It doesn’t take long for the door to open with a mechanical click, and another soldier appears.

This is our last chance to turn around before we’re trapped inside. I weigh our options, and with uncertainty, I hold my ground.

The newcomer is older than the other two men, with a hefty mustache and light brown skin. He scans us with emotionless eyes before saying, “My name is Colonel Wilkins. If you will please follow me, I'll get you started with the entry process.”

We file inside one by one, packing into a tiny room. The main door closes, locking with a loud clunk.

“We will enter through our high-security holding and military operations sector. Please keep in mind, any actions we perceive as a threat will be met with deadly force,” Colonel Wilkins says.

I swallow a hint of trepidation and step forward.

The area is nothing special; it's void of color and practical. It's not designed to give Sanctuary newcomers a welcoming vibe. Far from it. The enclosed booth in the middle reminds me of a movie ticket counter. Several soldiers go about their duties behind a glass window, typing away on keyboards and staring at monitors.

Colonel Wilkins turns to us and says, “Ladies, if you will follow Sergeant Hayes, she will lead you to the female in-processing area. Gentlemen, you will remain with me.”

I glance at the woman dressed in military attire. Her posture is rigid, and her face set in a scowl. “No, we stay together,” I state with a shaky voice.

“Excuse me?” Colonel Wilkins says.

With a confidence I don’t feel, I say, “Our group stays together.”

He steps closer, closing the space between us. “Miss, I highly doubt you want a male soldier to frisk you and then change into clean clothes in front of him. So, if you'd be so kind as to follow Sergeant Hayes, that would be appreciated.”

I had it in my head that our arrival at the Sanctuary would involve more pomp and circumstance. Perhaps a guided tour of the ins and outs by a friendly local. I definitely didn't think it would be so militant and cold.

Ryland places his hand on my shoulder and gives me a quick, reassuring nod, despite the worry written on his face. I hesitate before stepping away, and River and I follow Sergeant Hayes. We walk down a brightly-lit corridor until she guides us into a room similar to a jail cell. A toilet sits in the far back corner with a sink next to it, and against either wall is a twin-size bed covered with a dull-green blanket and a single pillow. Folded at the bottom of each bed is black clothing like an inmate would wear, accessorized with slip-on shoes.

In a clipped monotone voice, she says, “Before you disrobe, I'm going to frisk each of you. Once I'm finished, I'll remain in the room while you change. Do either of you have any questions?”

River and I respond by shaking our heads.

She guides River to stand against the wall with her hands by her head and legs spread apart. As the sergeant checks her for contraband, she asks, “Have any of you been in contact with the Afflicted?”

“Of course,” I state from behind her.

“And when was your last contact?” She runs her hands down each of River's legs.

I rub the back of my neck to relieve the tension building in my muscles. “A couple of days ago.”

“Have either of you been bitten?” she continues.

I sigh, and River answers no.

Sergeant Hayes repeats the same process with me and tells us to change into the provided clothing. She gathers our discarded belongings, tells us that someone on the medical staff will be in shortly, and locks us in the jail cell.

River takes a seat on one of the beds with her back to the wall, pulling her knees to her chest and resting her chin on top. “Not quite what I expected.”

I puff my cheeks and release the air. “You don't think this is some kind of military camp, do you?”

“I honestly don't know what to think. I can tell you my unrelenting fear of Zs is temporarily replaced with a dislike for camouflage,” she says with a smirk.

I plop down next to her and run a comforting hand over her back. “It'll be okay. I'm sure there's a good reason for all of this.”

We sit in silence, listening to the movements and voices as people pass outside the door. The unknown has us freaked out, making us desperate for a hint of what’s to come. My hand wraps around River’s, holding it tightly.

The lock on our door releases and we both jolt at the sound.

A man in a white lab coat enters followed by a young woman in maroon scrubs. He has thinning gray hair and wears wire-rimmed glasses. With a wide grin that balls his rosy cheeks, he says, “Hello, ladies, and welcome to the Sanctuary. My name is Dr. Huffman. Jasmin and I are going to give you both a quick exam and draw some blood from you. May I ask your names?”

River places her hand on her chest and says, “I’m River Ellery, and this is my cousin, Quinn.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you both,” he says, taking the blood pressure cuff from Jasmin.

He sits on the edge of the bed with us, and I offer him my arm. “What are you checking us for?”

“Pretty much anything contagious. Although there are sections of the community that get fresh air, a filtration system recycles the majority of it. If you have a sickness that is airborne, we want to treat you before releasing you to the general public,” Dr. Huffman says while pumping the cuff and placing the end of his stethoscope to the inside of my elbow.

River scoots beside me, watching what Dr. Huffman is doing and asks, “What's it like here?”

Jasmin twirls a piece of long black hair around her fingers, and answers, “It's pretty normal. We have jobs or school, decent living quarters, shops, movies, stuff like that. It’s kind of like it was before, just without the internet.”

I have to admit, it doesn’t sound bad. Then again, someone from Morhaven would have probably described it the same way. We won’t have a firm grasp on what it’s like here until we’re around more people.

River smiles and asks, “When will we get to see the boys we came with?”

“Not until everyone has passed the medical screening and is in-processed. Your friends are our next priority,” he says, sticking a needle into my arm and drawing blood.

Dr. Huffman and Jasmin poke and prod us, asking question after question. It doesn’t give us a chance to ask any of our own. Once they have everything they need, they leave, and we are brought something to eat. Chicken on the bone, green beans, and mashed potatoes—despite being locked in a jail cell, it isn't all that bad.

River and I are in the room for hours with no sign that anyone plans to let us out. When the lights above dim to a soft glow, we climb into our beds but neither of us sleeps. The next day, we eat breakfast and lunch, and still, no one comes to let us out. It's right before dinner when that all changes.

We shoot up in our beds as a soldier enters our room. He's in his mid-twenties, average height, and well-built. Like every other soldier, he's dressed in army fatigues and exudes a demanding authority. “Ladies, my name is Major Ridge Spencer, and I'll be conducting your in-processing interviews. I'll try to hurry, so we can get you both settled in the next few hours.”

I look at River with wide eyes, but before either of us can get a word out, Major Spencer points to me. “If you'll please follow me, miss.”

With shaking hands, I grab my shoes from beside the bed and slip them on. Hearing that our time spent locked in here is ending has the palms of my hands sweating and my stomach doing somersaults. It's been slow torture waiting for them to set us free.

I look back at River, and she flashes me a forced smile and a tiny wave goodbye before the door closes.

He leads me to what I can only describe as an interrogation room, with a metal table and chairs in the middle and a light hanging above. A large window with a reflective surface covers most of one wall, and I have no doubt it's one-way window with onlookers on the other side. Sitting across from me at the table, he flips through what appears to be my medical charts. We sit in awkward silence, and I hold back from drumming my fingers on the tabletop.

He takes a page from the folder and with a pen in his hand and asks, “Quinnten Ellery, where were you born?”

With an unsteady voice, I say, “In Devil’s Lake, in the central-northern region of Stern.”

“And how old are you?”

My gaze flick around the room. I've not thought about my age for some time. “My birthday is in May, so I guess I'm twenty now.”

My uncertainty doesn't seem to faze him, and he moves on to the next question. “Any surviving family that you know of?”

“River is my cousin and her parents, my uncle and aunt by marriage, were out of the continent when the quarantine happened. The last we knew, they were still alive and in Bogati.”

“And your parents?”

I shake my head.

With his pen poised to write my answer, he raises his eyebrows.

I clear my throat and give a quick answer. “My mother died in childbirth with me, and I don't know my father.”

For the first time, he looks up from the questionnaire he's filling out. His eyes are a warm hazel and his dark hair falls in waves over his forehead. He has sharp features—high cheekbones, a strong nose, and thin lips set in a solid straight line. I'm sure people interpret his demeanor as authoritative and rude, but the concern on his face puts me at ease. It's kind, full of sympathy, and I feel like I'm talking to an old friend.

Major Spencer's tone takes a gentler cadence as he continues. “Do you know either of their names?”

“I only know my mother's name, Cassidy Ellery.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

“No.”

“Any children of your own?”

I laugh and say, “I’m not looking to bring small people into this mess. You know, the Afflicted and all?”

One corner of his mouth rises, and his shoulders shake before he recovers. “Marital status?”

“Why? Are you asking me on a date?” I can't help myself; it just slips out of my mouth. My go-to coping mechanism—sarcasm—rearing its ugly head.

“Hardly. Please answer the question.”

“I'm single, but I'm in a relationship with one of the men we came with.”

“Which one?” The hard set of his lips returns; he's like a light switch—off and on.

“Ryland.” I shift in my seat and fold my hands on top of the table. “Do you know when I'll get to see him?”

“That's not up to me, Miss Ellery.”

“Quinn,” I correct him.

“Quinn, what's your educational background?”

“I graduated from high school. I never made it to university before everything went to shit.”

“Things are about to change for you,” he says with a warm smile.

Major Spencer continues to interrogate me about everything—from how I survived the Affliction to personal preferences. It's a thorough interview, leaving no question unanswered. By the time we end, I'm positive he knows me better than I know myself.

River and I trade places, and a short time later, she returns with Major Spencer. He chaperones us down a long hallway and into a medical area. We reach a door with a frosted glass window and Dr. Huffman's name etched in black lettering.

Major Spencer points at a row of three chairs sitting outside of the office. “River, if you want to take a seat, you'll be called into the doctor's office for your results and consultation after Quinn is done.”

I turn to my cousin with wide eyes. I know this may sound strange, but I've never been to see a doctor alone. In fact, I've only been to a traditional doctor's office one time that I can remember. My family was firm believers in holistic medicine, and we steered clear of manmade chemicals whenever possible. The thought of going in by myself is terrifying.

With pleading eyes, I say, “Can we go together?”

“It's going to get personal in there. Are you sure?” Major Spencer asks.

I tilt my head and roll my eyes. “We've been together our entire lives; I think we got this. If it gets too weird, I'll send her back out.”

He shrugs and takes a seat next to the door.

I knock and wait for permission to enter. Inside the examination room, Dr. Huffman sits at a built-in desk entering information into a computer.

“I hope you don't mind, I asked Major Spencer if River could stay with me,” I say, shutting the door behind us.

“Whatever makes you comfortable.” He smiles while picking up another chart with River's name on the tab and glances through it.

“Let's get you both out and mingling with everyone else, shall we?” When we sit side by side on the examination table, he laughs at the awkwardness of processing two patients at once. “Everything came back clean on the blood work for both of you. I need to go through a few general health questions, and you should be good to go.”

River and I nod at the same time.

“Were either of you on any prescription medications before the outbreak?”

In unison, we answer no.

“Are either of you sexually active, or have you ever been?” he asks with a straight face. I suppose this is an everyday question for him, but for me, it's kind of mortifying to talk about with a stranger, even if he is a physician.

“I am,” River says.

All eyes turn to me, and my cousin raises her eyebrows, eagerly awaiting my response.

“No on both accounts,” I say.

She releases a puff of air and her shoulders slump. “What are you two waiting for?” she mumbles.

“Shut up,” I whisper.

Dr. Huffman grins at our sisterly banter as he twirls in his seat and picks up a syringe from the desk. “Due to our circumstances and the limited space of the Sanctuary, we encourage all women of childbearing age to be placed on birth control. You will find growing families here, but there is a set process we follow to control the population. So, what I'm going to do is give each of you a contraceptive shot. Its effects will last three months, and then I will have you scheduled to come back and see me.”

I shake my head. “Is there another option, something that is more natural?”

River crosses her legs and rests her hands atop of them. “Our parents were naturalists who taught us to look for a natural alternative whenever possible.”

Dr. Huffman nods. “In that case, I have another option that is mineral-based and semi-permanent.”

I don't know why this all feels so uncomfortable. I guess I always thought this would be something that Amara guided me through. Not that River isn't a great stand-in; it just feels like a moment when a girl needs her mother.

River goes back and forth with Dr. Huffman and agrees the second option, a copper IUD, is the best. With all the medical process behind us, we're returned to the care of Major Spencer. He walks with us out of the holding and medical areas and through an automatic sliding door. We enter a bustling marketplace with different vendors selling an array of goods. It's primitive, but it looks to have everything one would need to live a comfortable life. Produce stands, a butcher, clothing, and everyday necessities—for being tucked inside a mountain, it's a perfect small community.

I squint my eyes, looking up at the lights hanging from the reinforced ceiling. The glow is comparable to a clear sunny day outside. “Is it always so bright in here?”

He waves in greeting to people passing by, and explains, “The lighting is timed with the sun's movements. As night approaches, they will dim and eventually turn off, and the streetlights and such will take their place. The architects recreated the solar system, and at night, the ceiling will transform into thousands of stars and follow the patterns of the moon.”

River inspects our surroundings, asking, “That's great, but are you locked in here? I mean, do you ever get to see the actual sun?”

“We keep the facility locked, but there are places like the public pool and park that get natural sunlight. But only military forces who maintain the farm outside of the facility are permitted to leave. It’s a safety precaution. I personally think the trade-off is worth it. We have electricity and running water—many of the luxuries you were used to before the outbreak.”

“There's no way they built this in the last couple of years. This is massive. How many people does the mountain hold?” I stand on my tiptoes, craning my neck to see as far as possible. There is no way to see from one side to the other.

“It's designed to house five thousand, and we're three-quarters full,” he says over his shoulder. “And you're right—they originally built the Sanctuary before the World Peace Talks when tensions were high between the four continents. It was designed to house the people in the region if another continent should stage a nuclear attack. The government at the time wanted to ensure our way of life wouldn't be demolished. As technology advanced, they made renovations to the facility to keep up with the current quality of life.”

The attention to detail is amazing. We stroll down wide walkways adorned with street signs and pass by a school, a financial institution, and a mini sports complex. There are even lifelike trees and bushes, and as we approach the park, real trees and grass grow under the sun. The designers of the Sanctuary have gone above and beyond to ensure those inside don't feel like they're locked away. All of it is mind-blowing.

Major Spencer explains that housing is scattered throughout the mountain. The goal is to accommodate every individual’s or family's needs, and to keep those at certain life stages close to each other. Families with small children are close to the school and park. Young adults stay by the various eateries and a nightclub. The arrangement must work because everyone we pass seems content.

There isn’t anything out of sorts. The people wear much of the same clothing as we did before the Affliction. The only people who stand out are River and me in our black prison garbs. Those along the street point and whisper as we pass. Some even say hello and smile. We might as well be wearing signs that read “newbies.”

We turn down a narrow street lined with lush green artificial trees and turn-of-the-century streetlamps. Houses with small front lawns are set side by side, each with a tiny variation giving it a unique personality.

“You've built houses in here,” I say, marveling at the homes.

He smiles. “We did. Many of the houses don’t have back doors because they’re tucked into the wall of the mountain. But most are freestanding.”

We stop in front of a smaller house with black shutters framing the windows and its lights off. He leads us up the two steps of the tiny porch and says, “This will be your living quarters.”

“Are all the houses like this?” River asks, complete awe in her tone.

He shakes his head and opens the door. “No. There are a couple of buildings on the other side of the complex that are multi-story housing units.”

I'm about to ask why they gave us a house, but I'm stopped as he switches on the light. The inside is small but cozy. An overstuffed couch sits in the middle of the living area with a faux fireplace and a wide-screen television as the focal points. The kitchen has granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, and an island with four chairs around it. But what stands out most are the windows, precisely placed throughout the house. The two in front are actual windows and the rest are optical illusions, framed by sheer curtains and reflect the amount of light being generated outside. The quarters feel open and airy.

“We've already rationed food for you, and the closets are stocked with some basic apparel.” Major Spencer walks down the short hallway and turns on the light in a room. “You'll share a bathroom.”

We peer inside—dual sinks, an actual toilet, a garden bathtub, and a tiled shower in the corner. The bathroom in the bunker flashes in my memory. It was so tiny and impossible to get dressed in. This place feels like an oasis compared to it.

He flips on the light in one room, announcing, “River this will be your room.” He crosses the hall and does the same thing. “And Quinn, you'll be in here.”

We separate and rush into our rooms. I grin at the king-size bed covered with white linens; nothing has ever looked so comfortable. Running my fingers over the dark wooden dresser, I take in the high-back chair in the corner and a walk-in closet with its door wide open. I step inside and look at the racks of clothes—nice designer clothes. I’m so overwhelmed that I want to laugh and cry at the same time.

River and I switch sides, and I peek into her room before returning to the hallway where Major Spencer is waiting.

“What do you girls think?”

“It's amazing,” I squeal.

“It's great,” River replies at the same time.

He walks back to the front of our house. “President Spencer will come and greet you before the end of the day. He'll give you your work assignments based on my assessments of you. I suggest you don't leave the house until you've spoken to him. Do either of you have any questions?”

I raise my hand and ask, “Does everyone here have the last name, Spencer?”

He laughs and pats me on the back. “No, not everyone. By the way, you can call me Ridge.”

“Thanks, Ridge,” I say.

River opens the front door. “Yeah, thanks, Ridge.”

“There's a phone in the kitchen. It's old school and will link you to an operator. If you need anything, tell them to connect you to me.”

“Yep, will do,” River says, gently pushing him out and closing the door behind him.

When we’re alone, I turn to her and cock an eyebrow. “Why did you rush him out like that?”

“Knowing your boyfriend, I don't think he'd take too kindly to Ridge flirting with you,” she says.

I throw my hands up. “He wasn't flirting. He was being nice, Riv!”

She places her hand on her hip and purses her lips. “Was he? He went out of his way to make sure you got the bigger room. And the way he looks at you is like he is studying your every move.”

“If you want the bigger room, you can have it,” I say, releasing a sigh.

“That’s not my point. I don’t care about the size of the rooms. Just be careful around him. And honestly, keep your guard up around everyone here. I get you’re excited that this has all worked out so far—so am I. But after what we went through in Morhaven, I’m a little skittish about the attentions of men we don’t know.”

My stomach turns, and I sink to the floor, hiding my face against my knees. I hate this. We can’t trust anyone to have good intentions. And I get it. We haven’t run into many people who weren’t thinking about themselves. I just cross my fingers that this place is different. If it’s not, I have no clue how we’ll get out of this.