CHAPTER [wendy [bree typhlobasia (n.) kissing with the eyes closed Wila Havine gorren wrr PANIC IN my veins and no sense of direction, I slammed my bathroom door behind me, locked it, and stepped back, racing heart swelling in my throat. Ronan was a rotten cheat. Everyone knew a head start was at least ten Mississippis. I got three seconds by the sound of his heavy steps that had pursued mine as soon as I reached the top of the staircase. He was quicker than humanly possible, his shadow nearly consuming my own before I locked myself in here. “Open the door,” Ronan demanded, his words too calm for comfort. Even knowing the contents of this bathroom down to the number of Qtips, I dug through the vanity drawers in the hope something would magically appear to help me defend myself. No doubt Yulia had a key, and she would happily assist her master. “You have five seconds to open this door before I break it down.” I threw a brush over my shoulder. “Good luck with that.” I managed to respond in a cool voice even though the idea sent a wave of uncertainty through me. I’d tried to kick and pound and picklock my bedroom door, which was the same make as this one, and I’d achieved a number of injuries but not a single dent. “Your stupid doors could endure a tornado—” Bang! I jumped back when the only divider between us flew open and slammed against the wall with such force the top hinge snapped. The door swayed awkwardly until another kick broke it free from its frame, and then