He stepped out of the wheelchair smoothly—no hesitation, no weakness—and crossed the kitchen so quickly I backed into the counter.
“Don’t scream,” he whispered.
I couldn’t.
“You can walk?”
He nodded, eyes wide with fear. “Please… listen to me. You need to run.”
Every nerve in my body went cold.
“What are you talking about?”
He grabbed my wrist, his hands trembling. “He’s not coming back.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“What do you mean?”