“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and I sat down across from him, trying to ignore the burn of blood in my cheeks. It would have been awkward if it wasn’t for the whole being afraid for my life thing. Emmett’s pale hands, his sleeves pulled up to hide bruised knuckles, trembled as he rested them on the table. “I didn’t mean to scare you,” he choked out. “I’m not going to hurt you. I wouldn’t do that. Especially not you, Sara.” “Are you sure about that?” I blurted. What the hell was that even supposed to mean? He’d ripped an IV out of his arm, escaping a hospital. Who did that? He’d shoved me inside with a gun and locked the door behind us. That was just the last fifteen minutes. I wasn’t even counting the crap that had gone down earlier. Thundering in my head were Cole’s words about Emmett being the kind of person who just one day snaps. It definitely seemed as if the snapping had commenced. And here I was sitting across from him when I should have been fleeing, questioning him when I should have been keeping my mouth shut.
