I can’t stop staring at the new door. I’m sitting cross-legged in bed, listening to Tyson’s deep breathing behind me, nestled in the warmth from his body, as memories of his hands on me linger in the back of my mind… And all I can think about is the slab of metal separating us from the psychos on the other side of it.

In a place with no boundaries—no security at all—I can think of no greater gift. And he ripped that door out of another building all on his own.

For me.

Well, for me, and for whoever his next “companion” is.

“You like it?” Tyson’s voice rumbles over me as his arm winds around my waist, pulling me against him while the sun sets outside our window.

“I love it.” I flop back on the pillow and look up at him as he props himself on one elbow. “I still can’t believe you did that.”

“Well, it’s not done yet. Is Maci up? I don’t want to use the torch in here, where there’s so much that could catch on fire.”

“Are you welding something?”

“Cutting.” Tyson runs one hand along my side, then gives my hip a squeeze as he throws the sheet off.

I swallow a bolt of disappointment when he pulls his clothes on without another glance back at me in the bed. But then he unzips his bag and starts pulling supplies out.

He’s brought half the wreckage back with him, including another long loop of wire for snares, some padding and leather that could only have come from the shuttle seats, and several bits of metal I don’t recognize. As well as one piece I do.

I pick up a metal rod the length of my forearm. “Is that rebar?”

He nods. “From a crumbling foundation on the edge of the settlement. I cut it free yesterday. We’re going to have trouble if anyone else manages to pry a piece loose. You could bash someone’s head in really easily with this.”

Yes. You could. “Do you think you could cut a couple more pieces off? I have a feeling Maci and I are going to need a good weapon after next week.”

He goes still, one hand deep in his bag, and I realize I’ve said something wrong.

“I think I can make my own traps, thanks to you, but I can’t let some asshole hit me. Or hurt Maci. And I know you want to help, but I can’t depend on you forever, Ty. You’ll probably have someone else to look out for anyway. I should tell Sana to pick you,” I say, though the words burn like acid on my tongue.

My stomach churns at the thought of someone else choosing Tyson next week. But that’s not fair. He’s a good guy. He deserves some…company. If I were really a good person, I’d want that for him, as well as for any girl smart enough to see past his hulking size and scary facial scar.

He grunts—a sound I still can’t interpret after nearly a month of sharing his life and his bed—and dumps his backpack on the floor with an abrupt, careless motion.

Maybe he’s afraid that if he gives me a weapon, I’ll get myself killed.

Maybe he doesn’t want to be chosen by someone else.

Maybe Maci and I are more trouble than he wants to borrow again. Considering how seriously he takes his responsibility to us, that makes sense.

When I hear her moving around in the bathroom, I knock on the door, then touch the recessed panel, which triggers the auto-open.

“Morning,” Maci says from her perch on the edge of the tub. She looks like she’s been up for hours.

“Actually, it’s nearly nighttime again,” I say as she brushes past me into the darkening bedroom.

Taking one of our flashlights, I use the restroom and clean up, and when I venture out again, Tyson is staring at the edge of the new door, which he’s swung open into the room. In his right hand, he holds the mini plasma cutter. In his left, he holds the six-inch section of rebar. His sunglasses are balanced on top of his head.

Maci sits a few feet away, shining the other flashlight at the door so he can see what he’s doing.

I sink onto the bed, watching, and though he must hear the groan of the springs, he doesn’t turn. He doesn’t acknowledge me at all.

“What are you doing?” I ask. And for a moment, I hold my breath, afraid he’ll keep ignoring me. I’m not sure what I’ve done wrong, but I’ve definitely pissed him off.

“Making the locking mechanism.” Tyson crosses into the bathroom and holds the rebar over the tub. I follow him with my flashlight. “Look away.” He pulls the glasses down to cover his eyes, but doesn’t glance back to make sure we’re following his instructions.

He fires up the torch, and I avoid looking at the flame. Maci turns away from the bathroom, pulling the cord she’s now braiding into her lap.

The soft whooshing sound of the torch changes, then something thumps into the tub. Then there’s another thump. Then a third.

The whoosh of the cutter dies. When Tyson heads back into the bedroom, I look into the tub, where I find three two-inch sections of rebar, still flaming red on the edges from where they were cut by the torch.

In the bedroom, Tyson turns the cutter on without warning us, and I gesture for Maci to look away as I shine my light at his work. The sound of the cutter changes again as it comes into contact with something—the door?—several times. Then the sound dies, and Tyson exhales in obvious relief.

“What?” I ask as I turn to face him.

“I was afraid I’d run out of fuel.” His voice is gruff, but at least he’s speaking to me. “Grab the rebar from the tub. But make sure it’s cooled.”

I do as I’m asked, even though he wasn’t really asking, and in the bedroom again, I hold all three pieces of cooled metal out to him on my palm. He takes one and carefully fits it into a hole he’s cut into the end of the door—the surface you don’t see when it’s closed—near the top.

When I come closer for a better look, he opens the door wider and shows me the hole. Inside it, the door is black. “It’s filled with foam,” he explains, but his words are terse. He’s still mad. “That makes the door lighter and helps insulate the building. Which isn’t really a concern for us, because we have no climate control.”

“If the door’s hollow, is it strong enough?”

“Yes. It’s two thick layers of the same material the walls of this room are made of, with foam between them.” Tyson sticks the short length of rebar into the hole again and twists it, hollowing out the foam until only a few centimeters of the rebar stick out.

Then he repeats the process with the other two lengths of rebar, and two other matching holes in the door—one just above the door knob, and one about a foot from the floor.

“When the door’s closed—” He gestures to the frame, where he’s already cut three coordinating holes. “—the rebar will slide an inch into these holes in the frame like deadbolts, effectively locking the door.”

“I don’t understand.” I feel like an idiot. “How do you slide the rebar into the holes in the frame?” With the door closed, they’ll be totally inaccessible.

“With this.” Tyson digs into his pocket and brings out a small metal disk, with a hole in the middle. He holds it near the top rebar “bolt” and the rebar practically jumps from the end of the door and sticks to the disk.

“A magnet,” I whisper, impressed, now that I understand.

Tyson nods and replaces the rebar in the hole in the door. Then he closes it. “Here goes nothing.”

I hold my breath as he presses the magnet against the edge of the closed door, where a notch marks the placement of the hole-and-rebar locking system. Then he drags the magnet across the door onto the frame. Which drags the rebar an inch into the hole in the frame, effectively bolting the door.

To test it, he twists the knob and tries to open the door.

The bottom of the door pulls toward us a little, but the top remains firmly closed.

Tyson nods, and I can tell he’s pleased, even though he seems to be trying to scowl the door into submission.

I smile. “May I try?”

He hands me the magnet, and I drag it over the notch just above the doorknob, “locking” the door with the center “bolt.” “This is so cool,” I breathe. “You can’t even see the bolts, but they’re so strong.”

“Yeah.” Tyson snatches the magnet from my hand. “I guess it’ll serve me well with the next woman who uses me for food and shelter.” He sounds almost as angry as he sounds…hurt.

“Ty.” I reach for his hand, but he jerks it from my grip. “Hey. I thought this was a partnership. Companionship.”

“So did I,” he snaps, as Maci’s wide-eyed gaze volleys between us. “But now you’re talking about pushing Sana at me on your way out the door, and—”

“Wait. Why are you mad about that? If you don’t want to help her out, then don’t, but—”

His forehead bunches into deep furrows. “It’s not that I don’t want to ‘help her out,’ Audra. I don’t want you in anyone else’s bed, and I don’t want anyone else in mine,” he growls, and a fierce warmth spreads through me at his words. “I thought we were on the same page. I’m not going to make you stay with me if you don’t want to, but you can’t just throw Sana at me and expect me not to notice that she’s not you.”

“Tyson, I—” I frown, thinking back over our past few conversations. “I don’t remember you telling me that.”

“The other night. After Darren. I told you I’d kill the next man who tried to touch you, and you said you’d stay with me. Now you’re acting like you don’t remember any of that!”

“I do remember, but I didn’t realize you meant any of that to apply beyond next week.” I stare at him, trying to understand. “We don’t have any choice here, Tyson. You said they won’t let me pick you again.”

“I’m not talking about the stupid auction. I don’t want you to pick me for another month, Audra. I don’t want you to leave when Wendy comes back. I want you to stay with me. I want you to be with me. For real. For however long we have on this miserable planet.”

Stunned, I sink onto the edge of the bed. “You said this was companionship.”

His frown mirrors mine. “It is. At least, I want it to be. This isn’t about us owing each other. I want to be with you.”

“Tyson, companionship means friendship. Like, buddies. I thought you were saying you just wanted a friends-with-benefits kind of arrangement. More than a business transaction, but less than…anything else.”

“No, that’s not—” Frustrated, he scrubs one hand over his scarred face. “I said the wrong words. Or I didn’t say enough of them.” He drops his hands at his sides and seems to be mentally starting over. “I don’t want to be your friend, Audra. I want to be your everything.”

The room starts to swim around me. This is crazy. I’m having some kind of terror-based auditory hallucination—cracking under the stress of this whole thing. That seems perfectly reasonable, after what happened with Darren.

Except that Tyson is very, very real. And he seems to mean what he’s saying.

“I swear I’ll take care of you,” he says, sinking onto the mattress next to me. “I told you I’d never let anyone else touch you again, and I meant it. That’s what the door’s for. To keep you safe when I can’t be here. And I’m working on a way to fix the shower. Or at least heat water for a bath, using solar panels from the shuttle. I can’t give you everything you deserve. But I’ll give you everything I can. If you’ll just stay.”

I blink at him, trying to make sense of the vulnerability looking out at me from the eyes of the strongest man I’ve ever met. He’s looking at me as if I hold his heart in my hand, one good squeeze away from crushing it, and he’s asking me to protect it instead. Like he’s protected me since the moment I got to Settlement A. But… “Tyson, I don’t understand how that would work. If you try to keep me and Maci, the men will riot. And Jaime will let it happen, even if that brings in the patrol, because that’ll be the most entertaining thing to happen in zone four since he and Wendy struck their bargain.”

Tyson starts to argue, but I talk over him. “You can see that in his eyes, Ty. Jaime was thrilled when I picked you, because that made things interesting. And even if there’s no riot, I can’t live the rest of my life looking over my shoulder, waiting to be grabbed and raped or murdered the moment you turn your back. This isn’t the place for me. Settlement A isn’t the place for us, if you want there to be an us.”

Anger drains from his expression, and I get a fleeting glimpse of something much more fragile. “Do you want that? Do you want me?”

“Hmmm…” I prop one hand on my hip and pretend to think about that. “Do I want the only man on this entire planet who isn’t psychotic or sadistic, who blows my mind in bed, and is smart enough to devise his own magnetic deadbolt system? Hell yes, I want you, Tyson.”

“It’s because of the traps, isn’t it?” His gaze narrows on me, but there’s amusement shining in his eyes. “You want me for my meat.”

“That, and your cheesy double entendre.” I lay both of my hands on his chest and look up into his eyes, so there can be no mistaking what I say next. “I would want you even if you couldn’t hunt, or fish, or rip a door from one building and carry it across town and up the stairs on your own. I can’t stand the thought of you touching someone else. I was only going to hook you up with Sana out of misplaced altruistic intention.”

“Very, very misplaced,” he growls as he pulls me closer.

Across the room, Maci giggles. I’d forgotten she was even there.

“Agreed.” I run my hands over his chest as I look up at him. “Sometimes I confuse ethical theory with the reality of life on a prison planet. I’m sad to think that those two aren’t compatible, at least in some way. But not sad enough to throw you at some other woman.”

“So, you’re saying that if we leave the settlement—if we strike off on our own—you’ll stay with me?”

“You couldn’t pry me from your side with a crowbar. But we have to take Maci. I can’t leave her here.” And I can’t take her back to Settlement B, before Wendy agrees that she’s done her time.

Actually, I can’t ever take her back to Wendy.

“Tyson, if we run, Jaime will raid Settlement B. You told me that yourself. I’m not sure I can let all those other women suffer because of me.”

“I can,” he growls. “They were willing to let you suffer. And Maci. They’re the reason Booker beats Sana and Thomas is half-starving Michelle.”

“No, Booker is the reason Booker beats Sana. Thomas is the reason Thomas is half-starving Michelle. Wendy and the other women aren’t acting in a vacuum, Ty. They’ve found a way to survive in a system they didn’t choose.”

“By sacrificing other people.”

“And themselves. Wendy did her time here,” I point out. “How many of the others have as well?”

Tyson shrugs. “I have no idea. But how is us leaving any worse than them sending women here to be sold in the first place?”

“It’s not worse. But it’s certainly no better.” And I’m not sure how happy I could ever be, knowing that my happiness came at the expense of so many other women’s safety. “Maybe there’s another way. Maybe we can talk to Jaime first and work something out. Offer him something if he’ll just let us go.”

“Like what? You know what he’ll want.” Though his head doesn’t turn, his eyes track to the left, drawing my attention to Maci, who’s still watching us, rapt.

Jaime is not getting Maci.

“What about the shuttle? Can we afford to lose whatever’s left in it? And maybe some fresh game?”

He ducks and runs his tongue up my neck, then sucks my earlobe into my mouth. “The only thing I have to get out of here with is you.”

“Okay, but some food and toiletries would also be useful.” I frown as he nibbles his way down toward my collarbone. “If Jaime agrees, we should probably leave in the middle of the night. Before the auction. That way if the men revolt, we’ll already be gone. They’ll have a much harder time finding us once we’re gone than stopping us from leaving in the first place.”

“Agreed.” Tyson’s forehead furrows, and I can practically see him calculating our chances of getting out of here intact without Jaime’s blessing. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow.”

“I think we should wait until the night before the auction. If he says no, we’ll have to sneak out immediately, because we’ll have tipped our hand. Waiting will give us several more days to collect supplies in case that happens.”

“You’re right. But Audra, you need to understand that we’ll probably have to sleep in the woods for a while. At least until we find something better and the uproar dies down. And I have no idea how long that will take.”

I nod. “That’s less than ideal, but you did it for years, so it’s obviously possible.”

“Possible, yes. Pleasant? No. But when I went out on my own, no one was looking for me.”

I shrug. “So we’ll have to lie low and hide until things cool off. But that’s only if we can’t bribe Jaime into letting us go.” Yet I understand what Tyson’s not saying. If we do this, it can never be undone. Even after things cool off, we’ll be in danger. Everyone who spots us will want to kill him and take Maci and me. We’re never going to live in peace. We’ll always be looking over our shoulders.

But that’s better than the alternative.

“Then…we’re leaving?” Maci asks, and we both turn to her.

“You have to start making more noise,” Tyson says. “It’s too easy to forget you’re here. Or that you should be.”

“Yes, we’re leaving. One way or another,” I tell her softly.

She smiles as she winds up the cord she’s been braiding, which is still anchored to the exposed beam, ready to be thrown out the window should we need an emergency exit. Though I’m far from confident in my own ability to climb down as quickly as Tyson can.

We need to do a dry run. But I haven’t figured out yet how to do that without announcing to the rest of the world that we have an escape plan.

Fortunately, the point may be moot with Tyson’s latest innovation.

I frown at the new door with that thought. “What if someone else has a magnet?” I let go of him and stare at the frame, thinking. “If anyone sees us unlock the door from the outside, they’ll figure out how this works. And if anyone else has a magnet, they may as well have a key to the kingdom.”

Tyson crosses his arms over his thick chest. “If I see a magnet, I’ll confiscate it. And I took all of them from the wreckage, to make sure no one else could find them. Other than that, you’ll just have to be ready to go out the window.”

That’s what I was afraid of. “But that’s just for the next week, until we’ve gathered some supplies.”

Tyson nods. “We’ll need a tent. Some bedrolls. We’ll need to stockpile food, because if we’re on the move or in hiding, we won’t be able to revisit established trapping snares.

“So we’ll need at least one more good shot at a supply drop.” I lift both my brows in Maci’s direction. “Think you can help us out on that front?”

She shrugs. “I’ll try.”

That’s all any of us can do. But as I fall asleep hours later, wrapped in Tyson’s arms, I can’t help but think that the weak link in our plan isn’t the rope, or the supply drop, or the magnet keys.

It’s Jaime.