In comparison, the thought of Rose’s blood …
He couldn’t even think about it.
With renewed efforts, he tossed concrete aside, leaving it to the others to move further out of their way. All he cared about was finding the little ladybug and getting her out. Knowing she was alive but trapped, buried alive, made him feel sick, and he could only imagine how much worse it was for Rose if she was conscious.
Conscious meant a better chance of living, but it also meant she was suffering, and at the way his heart hammered in his chest, Steel realized he wasn't so distorted to not feel empathy as he’d been led to believe.
“Careful, we’re close,” Blade cautioned, and Steel tried to do as his friend instructed.
When he glimpsed a lock of dusty red hair, he froze. She was there, close enough to touch, but he was worried any move he made was only going to make things worse.
“We got this,” Voodoo said softly, and when he glanced up, he saw all five men watching him. They all offered reassuring nods, even Dragon.
Moving more slowly, Steel carefully continued moving concrete until he uncovered Rose’s body. She was curled in on herself, in the fetal position, mostly on her side. There were smudges of blood mixed with the dirt from the concrete, and the beginnings of what would be some pretty horrific bruises.
As he shifted away the last chunk of concrete, tossing it effortlessly to the side, he saw wide green eyes looking at him.
“How did you do that?” she croaked, before her eyes rolled back in her head and she passed out.
Guess the cat was out of the bag now.
Although that was a worry for another time.
Gathering her into his arms, Steel growled possessively when Voodoo moved to take possession of the small woman he was cradling close.
“I got her,” he snapped, not able to put into words how badly he needed to feel her tiny body in his arms. Then he fixed his friend with a death stare. Never would he have guessed he would threaten one of his brothers, the men he’d relied on for everything this last decade. But never had he uttered words he meant more than the next ones he spoke. “You’d better save her life.”
December 27th
1:01 P.M.
Pain.
Darkness.
Threatening to pull her under.
No.
Can't.
Helpless.
Vulnerable.
Have to fight.
The words tumbled through Rose’s mind as she felt her body floating.
That couldn’t be right.
She wasn't doing any tumbling, and she didn't really have wings.
If she did, she would have flown away from her life a long time ago. Found some remote little spot on a mountain somewhere where no one would ever find her. Thanks to her upbringing, she knew how to survive with nothing. Could build her own shelter, dig herself a well or utilize a stream, hunt for food, and grow some of her own. She could even make her own clothes, there was no reason she couldn’t live completely self-sufficiently.
That way she’d never have to see another person ever again.
Damn, she hated people.Nothing good ever came from being around people.
