Forty eight hours of staring at the same beige ceiling patterns and rearranging my "fluffy fortress" of silk pillows until they lost all structural integrity. I was currently a prisoner in a kingdom of down feathers and high thread count misery.

  I shifted my weight, trying to find a position that didn't make my ankle throb like a second heartbeat, but the movement sent a sharp, only caused me more pain. Stupid ankle. Stupid Royce. Stupid floor.

  I reached instinctively for my phone on the nightstand, only for my hand to meet empty air. Right. Dr. Nexari, in her infinite, terrifying wisdom, had confiscated every electronic device I owned. "The blue light will liquefy your brain, Young Master," she had said with that shark like smile. "Read a book. Use your imagination. Or, preferably, just shut up and heal."

  I let out a groan because I was starving, but the thought of calling Oliver to help me to the kitchen or worse, the bathroom was a level of humiliation I wasn't ready to face. I could see it now the silent, pitying look on his face as he hovered over me while I hopped around like a one-legged crow.

  "I’d rather wither away," I muttered into one of my many pillow.

  Suddenly, a muffled roar broke through the heavy silence of the safehouse. At first, I thought it was just the wind, but then came the distinct, high pitched sound of someone very rich and very used to getting their way.

  Is that... yelling?

  My internal alarm bells went off. In this house, yelling usually meant an intruder, a security breach. Normally, I’d gear up and get to the evacuation area so we can leave asap, but the boredom had eroded my common sense. My nosiness was currently the only thing more powerful than my pain.

  You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.

  I rolled out of the bed, my good foot hitting the floor with a soft thud. I gasped as the world tilted forty-five degrees to the left. I stood there, clutching the bedpost, waiting for my brain to stop vibrating.

  It was the most pathetic athletic display in the family's history, but I finally made it to the window. I pulled back the heavy velvet curtain just enough to peer down at the front gates.

  My jaw nearly hit the windowsill.

  Down on the driveway, standing in front of two massive, stone faced guards who looked like they were reconsidering their life choices, was a very disheveled looking Ambrose. He wasn't wearing his school blazer, and his blonde hair was a chaotic mess.

  "I don't care about your 'security protocols'!" Ambrose’s voice drifted up, sharp and indignant. He was waving a colorful gift bag in the air like a weapon. "I know he’s in there! He didn't show up for two days! If you don't move, I will call my brother, and I promise you, neither of you will have a career by sunset!"

  One of the guards tried to place a hand on Ambrose’s shoulder to steer him back toward the gate, but Ambrose dodged him with a surprisingly quick pivot.

  "Don't touch me! I’m a guest! Sort of! I’m a friend!" Ambrose yelled, standing his ground. "Hitori! Hitori, if you can hear me, tell these rude people to let me in!"

  I leaned my forehead against the cool glass, a mix of horror and genuine shock washing over me. He actually came here? I was surprised he made it this far they probably noticed his identity if that wasn't the case would probably be shot on sight

  I quickly called oliver over so i could go down to diffuse the situation before anyone important found out he was here