I looked down and noticed the dead giveaway: It was ratty and worn. The dark grey heather cotton was thin, and I smiled as I made out the faded words across the front; it was from a Red Hot Chili Peppers concert four years ago. I looked up at Claire who showed signs of a slight grin.

“My dad took him to that concert,” she mused, sitting on the bed beside me.

“You look like him,” I said. Gabe had light blonde hair as well, and Claire had inherited his ice blue eyes.

Those eyes instantly glazed over with anger. “Don’t talk about him. You…,” she stopped herself, “just go to sleep, Nina.”

Falling asleep with Claire sitting over me like a prison guard wasn’t likely, so I turned my back to her, focusing on Jared. I wondered what it was that he was doing, and wondered why he hadn’t called. I opened my mouth to ask Claire, but given her mood I thought better of it.

The clock switched from P.M. to A.M. as the numbers changed to midnight. Jared still hadn’t called, and I was almost worried enough to ask Claire to call him. At that moment, Claire stood up and walked over to the railing. The outside door slammed, footsteps echoed up the iron steps, and then the front door opened and closed quietly. Claire’s eyes followed the footsteps up the stairs until Jared came into view.

The sight of him shocked me. His face was smudged with dirt and blood, along with his shirt, jacket and jeans. His knuckles were swollen and bloody. I noticed that on a few of them the hide had ripped away and hung by just a few centimeters of skin.

“Jared?” I said, ripping the covers off to run to him.

“I’m okay,” he said, holding me away. “I’m dirty. Let me jump in the shower.”

Without a word, Claire retreated downstairs.

I paced the room, chewing on my nails until he reappeared. He was dressed and clean shaven, the only remnants of his earlier disheveled appearance was his already healing knuckles.

“What happened?” I asked in firm tone.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Something came up,” he said, eyeing my bandage free hand.

“Obviously,” I said, crossing my arms. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Dawson stopped by The Rock to pay you a visit. I had to act quickly.” He walked by me to pull the first aid kit from under the bed.

“Mr. Dawson?” I asked, shocked.

“He was armed, and he also had…,” Jared’s jaw tensed, “he had paraphernalia.”

“What kind of paraphernalia?” I said, sitting on the bed.

“The kind you use to tie someone up and torture them. He was planning on getting that package tonight.”

I swallowed loudly. If Jared hadn’t been there to protect me, I didn’t want to think where I would be.