“Of course. I meant what I said earlier—you can belong here if you want to,” he tells her. “But, given what you've just shared, I think we should talk more if you're up for it.”
Godsdammit, Callum.
The tension comes back, ratcheted up to about a million now, and I can't stand it any longer. Scooping her out of his lap, I ignore her surprised squeak, and carry her towards the living room.
“Gideon!” Callum’s voice is exasperated, but I don’t stop.
“If we're going to have super intense story time, followed by super boring strategy time, then we're at least going to be comfortable,” I yell back at him, sinking down into the deep leather couch cushions and dropping Sheena beside me.
I’d rather have her in my lap, but I can tell she needs to feel some kind of control over her space right now. So I drag a warm, fuzzy blanket off the arm of the couch, cover us both, and hold the edge up, gesturing impatiently to Callum as he trails after us. He purses his lips, but sits down beside Sheena like I knew he would, sliding under the blanket without complaint. Once she's nestled safely between us, I finally feel like I can breathe again.
Thank the gods she’s too distracted to notice me fussing.
“What do you want to know?”
Sheena gets right to the point, but her voice sounds tired, like the thought of digging all this back up is exhausting. I hate that she has to relive it, but Callum is right to push. If this group is the same one that took her, it's even more important that we track them down fast.
“Whatever you're comfortable sharing,” Callum says. “Focus on anything that could help us figure out if it's the same group.” Sheena nods once, staring at her hands while she plays with a tassel on the end of the blanket.
“They always wore masks. Halloween, skulls, and monster stuff.” She frowns slightly. “They abducted me and held me hostage in Virginia. That’s where I escaped from, at least, so I guess it's far-fetched to think it could be the same group. But in the years since my escape, I've felt them coming for me.”
She’s defensive. Almost like she expects us to call her paranoid, but I nod instead.
“I saw one of them back in Texas a few years back,” she admits. “I ignored the warning feeling. It was stupid, but I had a pretty decent setup going. He got so close... When I noticed, he was watching me like it was a game.” She shudders and wraps her arms around herself. “I use that memory to remind myself about what can happen when I ignore my gut.”
When she reaches for the blanket’s tassel again, I grab her hand in mine.
“You were right to listen to that feeling,” I say, leaning into the need to reassure her. “In this world, your instincts and intuitions are just as important as sight or smell. They will keep you alive when nothing else will.”
Her fingers tighten around mine, a silent thank you.
“Before I got away, they kept me carefully guarded but mostly unhurt. Because of... why they wanted me... I was really weak.” She hurries on, but I don’t miss her pause. “I onlygot away because they were planning something big and wanted me strong.”
She takes a deep, shaky breath, but neither of us pushes her to elaborate. I draw shapes on the back of her hand with my thumb instead, trying to help her relax.
“I stopped fighting back after a while, so they only had one guard watching me. The night I escaped, I pretended to be asleep.” Her bottom lip trembles, but her green eyes are blazing. I can’t look away from her. “I waited until he turned around, and then I jumped on his back and wrapped the chain around his throat. It took so long,” she whispers. “Longer than I expected. I thought I might pass out before he did. When he finally fell, I ran, and I haven't looked back.”
When she stops talking this time, the bones in my hand are fucking throbbing. When I realize the pressure is coming from her and not me, I squeeze back gently. She can break every bone in my hand if it helps her forget.
“I don't know what I am,” her voice has a brittle edge now. “But I promised myself that night I would tell no one what I can do. I understand if that’s a deal breaker. I’m sorry to keep it from you two, but I just can't put myself at risk again.”
Her last words are defiant, and it’s sexy as hell. Instead of telling her I think her stubborn streak is hot, I stay quiet and listen as Callum takes over. He tells her she doesn't have to share any more details about herself, that she was brave and smart.
Callum has a way with words, and I feel the tension draining from Sheena’s body as he reassures her. Once she's boneless on the couch, he asks her some simple follow-up questions. She's able to add some vague details about height, weight, accents, and tattoos, but when he asks about abilities, she hesitates.
“I never saw anyone... change or anything, but they didn't feel human,” she says. Callum accepts that with a nod.
Not hunters then. Part of me is relieved to hear that psycho cult isn’t involved. Instead, it sounds exactly like the trafficking group we're chasing now—a supernatural gang betraying their own community for profit. It's fucked.
When Callum asks if anyone else was held hostage with her, Sheena’s tension returns tenfold along with a healthy serving of the earlier defiance. She says she didn’t see anyone else. Although, she believes there may have been others based on sounds she overheard. Callum doesn’t press on the obvious sore spot, but the conversation is still grueling.
Eventually, he stops asking questions and flips the TV to some mindless comedy. We pretend to watch it, but no one is invested. Within minutes, Sheena drifts off to sleep cuddled into my side, the laugh track playing in the background.
CHAPTER
SIX
SHEENA
