“Excuse my manners,” she says. “Fries are my favorite.” Price smirks. “Care to watch a movie?” Lynell pulls the remote out of the drawer between the beds and turns on the TV. She quickly finds one of the old classics, settling into the bed to watch it.

“Do you care at all?” Price asks a few minutes later.

Lynell looks over at him. “About what?”

“That you’re here. That I’m here. That I’ll . . . Aren’t you scared?”

She shrugs. “Yeah. But it is what it is. And it’s not like I don’t dese—” the words fizzle in her throat. “You must have a reason,” she says instead. “And you say I’ll learn it. That’s enough for now. I’m not going to spend my last night in fear. I’ve had far too much of that for one short lifetime.”

Price doesn’t answer.

And true to her word, despite being stuck in a room by herself with the man who will take her life, Lynell falls asleep quickly and easily that night, tumbling into a memory.

DAY 3

Lynell hears Price order coffee and waffles to be delivered to the room and cracks one eye open to check the time. The clock’s light is blinding and when she sees it isn’t even seven a.m., she pulls a pillow over her head and burrows deeper into the covers. She’s not sure how much time passes before room service knocks and Price carries the food inside. Lynell lowers the pillow, blinks against the sunlight, and rolls over.

“You’re awake,” Price says. It sounds like he’s speaking around a mouthful of waffles. “You want some breakfast?”

She lies still, the blanket shielding her body from the stranger who slept in the bed next to her all night. She smells the waffles and . . . bacon? The scent taunts her, but she can’t get her limbs to move.

Don’t give him the satisfaction, she thinks. Having a second meal with him borders on intimate, and she has no desire for intimacy with the man who Registered her.

“They’re decent waffles,” Price says. His fork clinks against the metal plate and the sound grates in Lynell’s ears. She lifts the blanket so it covers her head. “You should try them,” he continues. “They even gave us a bowl of berries.”

She feels her bed dip and when he starts talking, Lynell realizes Price has sat down.

“You’re going to get hungry on the plane and I’m not getting you anything.”

“I have money,” Lynell says, her voice muffled. And I might as well spend it.

“Suit yourself.” He stands. “Our flight doesn’t leave for three more hours, though, so you’re probably going to get hungry before,” he says.

Lynell ignores him in favor of trying to fall back asleep. But Price cuts his waffles loudly and hums while he eats, as if her comfort is the last thing on his mind. When her sheet is ripped back and the cold air assaults an exposed sliver of skin between her pants and shirt, she sits up with a shout.