The Lion's Den

Lila

For a split second when she woke, Lila's eyesight was slightly blurry, and she thought it was Dane sitting in the chair next to where she lay. She took a deep breath and was about to reach for him when she blinked and the gray temples, hawkish eyes, and lined face that so incredibly mirrored Dane's became clearer.

She sat bolt upright, the bed underneath her creaking as she pushed herself back and away from this man who had to be Dane's father—the resemblance was breathtaking. She kept blinking in case it was a dream. 

No, no it wasn't. He'd come to the apartment. She'd seen him through the peephole and thought he was Dane. 

"You're awake," he said pleasantly. He sat in a black, plastic chair between her and the door, the ankle of one foot on the knee of the other, his hand clasped loosely in his lap. "How do you feel?"