"What are you going to do with me now?" I stupidly asked. All those repressed emotions from so long ago had my mind stirred up, and my training slipped.
Fear flashed through me when Uriel smiled. "Whatever I want, love. But it's time for you to remember where your loyalty lies. To remember that you are here, alive right now, because of me. You owe me everything."
If this dick's next words were "I'm god in this compound," I was going to throw all caution aside and do my best to kill him. I was that close to losing my shit.
Uriel must have seen that glint in my eyes because he smiled and backed away slowly until he was standing on the side of the bed, staring down at me. "Be ready in ten minutes or Jordan won't be alive to see tomorrow," he told me. He would do it too; I could see the death of the American prince in his cold gaze.
Then he walked off. Leaving me fucking cuffed and helpless.
Well, I was never really helpless, but ten minutes would be cutting it close. With a sigh and a few choice words about a certain power-crazy dictator, I got to work on freeing myself. With about thirty seconds to spare I got myself free—minus some layers of skin— and hurried to throw some clothes over the lacy outfit someone had put me in.
The violation of my privacy and body was a factor I'd deal with later—for now, I just had to get through whatever Uriel had planned and hope that all of us would be alive to fight another day.
In my head was a running montage of Jordan's face. The darkness in his eyes. His spirit had looked like Rafe's, the light almost completely extinguished, and it fucking hurt to see him like that. Was there any saving Jordan, even if I freed him today? Trauma left a scar on your soul; even if you couldn't see it on the skin, it was always there.
"Hurry up!" A voice snapped me out of my daydream. I looked up to find the front door to my cage-masquerading-as-an-apartment was open. The man standing there was someone in the military, his face almost completely covered by a black mask, his eyes turned away from me so I couldn't see them.
Sucking in a deep breath, I composed myself, forcing years of training to the forefront so I could go into my "robot mode." It was a self-defense mechanism that allowed me to separate from my emotions and just get through whatever was coming my way.
"Follow me," the voice snapped, and then he turned and marched away. I hurried to keep up because I had a lot of work to do to rebuild trust. It was essential I did so that I could escape and get the guys out, and Jordan had undone days of groundwork already. I was back to square one. Or possibly square minus one because now Uriel knew I'd been faking it before.
When I caught up to the guard, I was surprised at how tall and broad he was. My training always had me cataloging people when I met them to figure out if they were a threat or not. This guard was not just huge, he also moved in a predatory way, his long legs eating up the distance as we strolled across the compound, and not once did he look back at me, which was a huge indication he was powerful and secure in his power.
No one disobeyed this man. He had to be important to the extremists. Important to Uriel, and for a brief moment, I debated if I should just kill him. Probably save myself the trouble of having to do it later. Not to mention I had this bucketful of rage to work off, and this guy would not be an easy competitor.
Common sense fled, and I changed the way I was positioned to give myself the best chance to attack. My to do list started to run in my head on an endless loop. Full focus, no second-guessing myself.
Take him down. Go into hiding—I knew how to exist in the shadows. Figure out where Rafe was and how to save Jordan. Get the fuck out of here.
Those were my tasks, the only reasons for my existence right now, and I would not stop until I was successful.
Just as I launched myself forward, the guard spun, wrapping his long arms around me before we both disappeared into a dark, shadowed spot behind a building. He moved so fast that it was a full few seconds before I even threw my first punch.
"Always with the violence, little Violence. You never learn."
Everything in my entire fucking body froze as I trembled against familiar muscles.
"Rafe?" I choked out.
I could still barely tell it was him—his military outfit hid him completely—and if it wasn't for those blue-as-fuck eyes staring down at me, I'd never have known.
My hands were shaking as I reached up and slowly pushed the mask from his face, freeing up his dark hair and his lips. "Fuck," I sobbed.
We stared at each other, and after my moment yesterday with Jordan, I was scared about who I might find in the place of the prince I loved. Rafe had always been more unpredictable. More volatile. I wondered if this experience had pushed him to a place so dark that he would tip over the line he walked.
"Have you been with the military the entire time?" I finally asked, desperate to know everything. "Have you seen Jordan?"
Rafe's face darkened, and if murder had a face, it would be his. The fury was almost palpable in the air around us. "I escaped after a week and left enough evidence so they'd think I took off to get help. I've tried to break Jordan out, multiple times, but he insists that by staying where he is, he's keeping you alive. The asshole won't leave."
I gasped, my hand pressed to my chest as it felt like my heart was shattering beneath my palm. The pain was so great I would have doubled over if Rafe weren't right there keeping me standing.
"He told me that he was done with me." I gasped over and over. "He pushed me away. But he's protecting me?"
Rafe's chuckle was dark. "Of course he fucking is. His part is Prince Charming. Mine is your darkest nightmare. We play our parts pretty well, don't you think?"
His asshole nature was enough to knock some sense into me. Briefly, in my grief, I'd forgotten that we were all in a very dangerous situation with a very dangerous man running the show.
"Are you supposed to be taking me somewhere?" I asked Rafe.
