“And who the hell are these people?” Ash growls, his voice taking on an almost possessive tone.
But that wouldn’t make sense. Ash has made it clear he only tolerates my presence. He’s only entertaining whatever’s going on between us because he doesn’t want me to die.
“Rowan is Jett’s younger brother,” I say, my eyes going wide when Ash’s expression twists into a snarl. “He’s nice! I promise! He’s given me clothes to wear and his own bed to sleep in. He hasn’t taken advantage of me at all.”
“Uh huh, shortcake.” He doesn’t believe me. I can practically feel the sarcasm dripping from every word. “And who’s the other guy?”
“Griffin? He’s the new fighter the handlers bought. I was brought in to see him first.”
Ash looks like he’s filing away all of this information for later. I don’t know whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but the intensity of his gaze is freaking me out.
“Tell me, will I get to be on that list after this whole shitshow is done?” He growls.
I tilt my head, my gaze darting between his narrowed eyes.
“Do you want to be?” I ask slowly, not wanting to answer incorrectly. If I answer based on what he told me earlier, when he first tugged me into his arms before his nightmare, he wants nothing to do with me.
But he’s also kept me alive.
“And if I do?” He shoots back, answering my question with a question.
“If you do, then you’re on the list. But if you don’t want to be, then you’re not.”
“I don’t think I like that fucking non-answer.”
“I—I just don’t want to give you the wrong one,” I huff.
“I asked you the question, didn’t I? So I expect an actual fucking answer. Your answer. If I didn’t give a shit, I wouldn’t ask.”
I nod slowly, my eyes tracing his sharp jawline and the hint of red I can see across the top of his cheekbone as he glances away.
“Then yes, you’re on the list. You could’ve left me to die,” I say.
His lips quirk up into a proud, almost smug-looking grin. “Good.”
“You never answered my question. You don’t like talking about yourself, do you?”
I instantly regret my words when his expression shutters, his expression growing dark.
“It’s been hell. The trainers here are sadistic motherfuckers. My life is eat, sleep, fight. Get beaten and then beat the shit out of other dogs. Over and over and fucking over again.”
His sage scent picks up the thickness of a wildfire.
I reach out and brush my fingertips over the network of scars running across his body. A visual story of the pain he’s had to endure.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, blinking to soothe the burn of tears I can feel building behind my eyes.
“I don’t need your apologies,” he says, but there’s no bite to his words. If anything, his arms tighten around me as he tugs me closer to his chest.
“I—I can relate,” I say, fighting to keep my voice steady at the thought of him having to endure that kind of torture. “Not to the fighting, but to everyday looking thesame.”
He eyes me curiously.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve been told I’m a little strange,” I say, picking at my cuticles. A fond smile tugs at my lips when I think of Rowan. He was the first one ever to say that to me.
“I’d say so,” Ash huffs.
