I fought hard to keep my face calm, even though everything inside me was shaking.
"Yeah," I said, forcing my voice steady. "It's me. Are you okay?"
Whitney slipped her hand into mine. Her fingers were cold. I pulled her up gently, careful not to jolt her. She stood, but her body swayed like she hadn't eaten properly in days.
"I'm fine," she whispered.
I looked around the garden quickly. No Taylor. No comforting hand on her back. Just the faint presence of people watching from the shadows men in black suits, standing too still, eyes scanning like guards.
My stomach tightened.
"Isn't he supposed to protect you?" I asked softly. "Why are you alone out here, getting pushed around?"
"I I'm fine," she repeated, but her eyes darted away. Her voice sounded like someone reading lines she'd been forced to memorize.
Those men in black were close enough to step in.
But they didn't.
They watched.
Like Whitney wasn't a person to them. Just property.
