Kendrick
I leaned against the large window of my study, swirling a glass of whiskey in my hand, my gaze fixed on the city skyline. It was late, but sleep was the last thing on my mind. Kimberly was planning to flee. I had seen it in her eyes, felt it in the shift of her demeanor. She thought she was being clever, memorizing the roads, taking note of every turn, every landmark.
She thought I didn’t notice.
I smirked, bringing the glass to my lips.
I had learned long ago that a cage only worked until the bird realized it had wings. And Kimberly had finally realized it.
I let out a slow breath, my fingers tightening around the glass. The old me would have locked her away the moment I saw the shift in her behavior. Would have chained her to my side, crushed every thought of escape before
