"Margie..."
Bevis's voice was barely a whisper, the sound fragile in the cold, dimly lit cell. His breath hovered in the air like a ghost as he hesitated, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle. His fingers twitched at his sides, as if fighting the urge to reach out and confirm I was real.
I kept my breathing slow and even, my lashes resting against my cheeks, feigning deep sleep. The thin mattress beneath me offered little comfort, the rough fabric scratching against my skin, but I didn't dare shift—not even a fraction.
