Kaya pressed her fingers to her forehead, slow and hard, as if that alone could stop the headache from splitting her skull open.
Were these idiots even thinking?
Yes—she had ordered them to throw him into the box and leave him there. She owned that. But how was she supposed to know she would collapse for an entire week? That she wouldn't even wake properly, wouldn't move, wouldn't be conscious enough to remember anything?
That part wasn't planned.
And fine—fine—if someone could remember to give him food and water, then at the very least, someone should have had the sense to look at his condition and think, Maybe this is a problem.
Apparently not.
Kaya glanced back at Liam in the box.
Honestly? She wasn't that worried.
He was alive. Breathing. Miserable, yes—but alive. The real problem was that the box was inside the house, and the smell was beyond disgusting. That, more than anything, tested her patience.
And yet—this guy?
He didn't care.
Good.
Very good.
