“Right. How’s the room?”
“Well… it’s better than the last one…”
“And better than the next one,” he quickly adds.
“Yeah, I know. It’s downhill from here on in when it comes to accommodation.” I lie down. My body relaxes, not just thanks to this amazing bed but because of Rage’s hoarse, thick voice in my ear.
“You must be tired from all the fun you’ve had until now.” There’s something odd about his voice.
What is it?
“You know what? I totally am. Once more, Rage, I got to thank you for–”
“Don’t mention it.” He doesn’t like to be thanked – I must take notes.
“Is everything okay?” I inquire. “There’s something odd about your voice.”
Rage takes a few moments to reply. “Odd how?”
“I don’t know. I mean, your North Korean imperial tone is still there, but something is different. I just can’t put my finger on it,” I say with a yawn.
“I’m just tired, that’s all.” There’s something intimate, warm and pleasant about this moment. It’s so quiet in this room and in his. Not a single sound except his voice in my ear.
“You should be getting some rest too.”
“True… I was just…waiting for you to sign off.” Now he sounds sweet and caring. “I don’t want you to interrupt me later when I’m either sleeping or fucking.”
“And we’re now back to the usual stuff,” I joke.
“I guess so.”
I shift until I’m resting my head on the pillow.
My eyes feel heavy. I’m exhausted. I yawn again and trigger a few tears. They are cold as the night or at least I feel them like that once they touch my cheeks.
“Hey, kiddo…”
“What’s up?” I whisper. My eyes are closed now.
“Earlier today… Carter said something related to your name.”
I sigh because I know what’s coming.
“I need to know. Isn’t Sarah your real name?”
“It is.”
“Then what did he mean by that?”
It’s weird, extremely fucking weird coming from him. He never asks personal questions, ever.I don’t ask about stuff. I don’t give a fuck,he mentioned before, that’s like hisone rulewhen it comes to his persona.
Frankly, I don’t like when he’s asking questions. I guess I like the aspect that comes with not asking about the past of another person. He gives me the impression of someone who lives in the present and doesn’t dwell in the past, or at least he used to. He has just broken that rule with me now.
“If you must know, then I’ll tell you. When I was rescued from where I was being held captive, I got intowitpro, so I had to change my name. I left the program a few years later, but I kept my new identity.”
“I see. Why did you quit?”
“Well, the primary reason for me to be in the program and having an armed escort all day was the threat of being killed by the sole survivor of that organization, and since that man was no longer breathing, thanks to Bruno, I didn’t find any reason to be inlegal captivityanymore. Plus, there is still stuff that I want to do.”
