He saw Win sitting in an armchair in the corner of the room, completely submerged in the shadow, not even illuminated by the faint moonlight. He hadn't been asleep at all; he had been waiting.
Win rose from the armchair. He didn't rush; he moved with a slow, deliberate certainty that was infinitely more terrifying than a sprint. His voice, when it came, was calm, low, and completely devoid of emotion.
"I knew it," Win stated, taking a step forward. "I knew you wouldn't be able to stay."
He walked closer, closing the distance between them until King could see the flat, possessive look in his eyes. "You haven't forgiven me. And then I did what I did tonight... I knew that would push you over the edge. I knew you'd plan to run."
Win stopped directly in front of King, his gaze dropping to the small bag clutched in King's hand. He nudged the bag gently with his foot.
