Fiction, continued

She was awake for a long time before she opened her eyes, listening to the noise of the street, hearing someone else breathing in the room.

It took just one look at him slumped in the chair beside her bed to know that he was only feigning sleep. If she made a sudden break for the door, he would be there first.

She had hoped the morning would bring a sense of clarity, but instead all it brought was a throbbing head, a reminder of a long journey and an agave-fueled negotiation. She remembered everything, and wondered at the way he had carried her to this room, more like a bride than a prisoner.