She doesn’t go still, not fully. But the fight fades. Her breathing turns shallow, pulse slowing under my palm. Her head drops against my shoulder.
Arsen’s quiet behind me. Watching. I can feel it.
Her shirt’s soaked through—sweat, blood, maybe both. I shift, drag her fully into my lap, and that’s when I feel it.
Stitches. Deep. Running the length of her spine.
Her thighs are covered in bruises, some yellowed, others fresh and swelling. There’s a gash behind her ear, still crusted. Her fingers are wrapped in medical tape, two of them splinted at the joints. One’s swollen—either broken or dislocated. Probably both.
My grip tightens. Muscles locked. Jaw grinding as I fight the urge to put my fist through the wall.
“What did they do to her?” I mutter.
“She wouldn’t say,” Arsen answers, leaning against the doorframe. “Let me stitch her up. That’s it.”
I don’t look at her face. Don’t trust myself to.
“Did they rape her?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
“She had me pick up a morning-after pill. I didn’t ask why.”
A muscle ticks in my jaw. “She’s not on birth control?”
“I don’t fucking know. She’s nineteen, Priest. Nineteen. She lost everything when they took Lev. She’s been alone since. I wasn’t about to interrogate her while she was bleeding through the sheets.”
The bruises on her jaw catch the light. Her face is wrecked. The mattress shifts beneath me with her weight, and I realize she’s wearing one of Arsen’s shirts.
That pisses me off more than it should.
“What is she to you?” The words taste rotten in my mouth. “I know you’re the one who pulled her out of the Depths.”
He lets out a deep breath. “Lev recruited me to the Sovereign from FSB. Trained me. Made me who I am. She was five when I met her. I tried to find her after they captured him, but she vanished. Took years to track her. By the time I did, she’d built a life. I stayed back. Watched. Protected her from a distance. I owed Lev that much. She made mistakes. Got involved in stupid shit. But she stayed off the Sovereign’s radar…until you.”
I stare at her. My arms still around her. Her breath tickling the skin of my neck. My chest rises and falls with hers.
Wolff’s voice echoes down the hall. “Arsen. We need a supply run.”
Arsen shifts toward the door.
“I’m staying in here,” I say, already repositioning us onto the bed. She curls unconsciously against me. My body tenses.
“Fine,” Arsen mutters, watching too long. “Only reason I’m letting it slide is that she finally stopped screaming. But when she wakes up—don’t let her see you in here. She fucking hates you.”
He walks out. I hear him and Wolff leave, and the outer bunker door locks behind them.
Her breath warms the side of my throat as I stare at the ceiling.
Whatever this is?
I don’t fucking want it.
And I sure as hell don’t know how to make it stop.
Iwake to silence.
My eyes snap open. The bedroom is dark, the sheets twisted around my legs. Cold sweat coats my skin. The nightmares are already fading, leaving only a blurred, bloody echo behind.
