His familiar gaze pinches with concern as he takes in the two of us.
“Bring the car around. Inform Dr. Griffin that he’s needed at the city compound. I don’t care if he’s off-call, He’s got thirty minutes.”
My second nods and walks into my periphery, but my gaze has already returned to the flutter of lashes against too-pale cheeks.
Arms tensing around her curled body, the shock of holding her hits me all over again.
I’m touching her.
I’ve been in contact with her this entire time, yet somehow the visceral discomfort I’ve grown to anticipate is absent. I feel…nothing. No prick of distress. None of the anxiety or disturbance that has plagued me for the last thirty-one years.
All I feel is awareness and heat searing the skin that wraps around hers. My mind runs a quick scan of every inch of surface area where her body touches mine: my arms, chest,neck.
The same thing happened earlier tonight, though I was too preoccupied to examine it. Now, I recall catching her in the hallway at the club. The way the very tips of her fingers brushed my chest, revealing the intimate knowledge of the scar lying beneath.And I felt nothing.None of the pain and panic that an external touch typically summons.
Utterly oblivious to my shocked realization, the small, limp woman cradled to my chest lets out a heavy sigh before tilting her chin into my shirt. It’s adorable.
Adorable? Why would a drugged-out, vulnerable woman be cute? If anything, it’s an inconvenience.
Tires squeal, the car pulling up beside us, and yet, I still can’t seem to look away.
“Pakhan, want me to take her?” Ivan asks, hovering just a few feet away. Peeling my eyes from her soft features takes a herculean effort.
Ivan’s curious gaze drifts between where my arms tangle around her legs to the soft cheek pressed to my chest, and I can tell he’s just as disarmed by my unusual behavior as I am.
I shake my head, clinging to Cassandra like she’ll disappear from my grasp. It wouldn’t be the first time.
“I owe her my life.”
The excuse is bullshit. We both know that. I’ve taken bullets for Ivan, and he for me. That hasn’t been enough to alter my inability to so much as shake his hand, let alone hold him to me as I do with her now.
I gently maneuver us into the back of the dark SUV, laying her across the seats. The little freckles lining her nose are stark against the unnatural pale color of her cheeks, and I have the overwhelming impulse to do anything possible to bring back that soft blush she wore earlier. I gaze at her closed eyes for a moment before pulling out of the car.How could anyone fathom hurting someone like that?
Rage, sharp and grounding, fills my veins. I straighten to my full height, turning to Ivan.
“Watch her.”
I wait for his sharp nod of confirmation before spinning on my heel towards the back hall. As promised, my men are waiting in the dark corridor, arms wrapped around a wriggling body with a choking hold. The air thickens with deference and fear, my guards’ expressions lowering to the ground. The man goes slack in their arms once I breach his line of sight.
“Look, I’m sorry! I’ll just go, I won’t say anything?—”
I don’t have time for this.The words click off like a tape recorder when I reach for my gun. At the sight of the weapon, his fight renews, kicking, screaming, begging. I only smile.
“Please! I’ll do anything, please!
I take a few deliberately slow steps forward, relishing the pleas like a complex dessert melting on the tip of my tongue. I don’t give him a single word as I raise the barrel to his temple. The stale smell of piss fills the air right before I pull the trigger with a satisfying click.
Once I return to the car, I brush my palms against my dark pants before climbing back in, settling her so she lies sideways across my lap. I’m not quite ready to part with her small breaths brushing my neck.
The car rumbles down the city roads as we make our way through the familiar maze of buildings, but I still can’t find it in myself to lookaway. I’ll consider whether I’m having some sort of mental breakdown later.
Increasing worry builds in my gut with every pothole and sharp turn she sleeps through, drugged into an unnatural state of sleep. I’m not used to feeling this—helpless?
Is that what this is? Guilt and concern grow inside my gut like a fucking tumor as we zip through the streets at a speed only Ivan could manage.
I try to focus on the steady pattern of breaths that cause her ribs to lift and fall. The habitual pattern has me zoning out, remembering how lively she was just hours before. When a low-level bouncer informed me he’d just admitted a girl with a small dragonfly tattooed on her wrist, I was sure it was just another dead end, but one look at the security tapes confirmed the reality.
One glance.That’s all it took.
