Chapter Twenty
He didn't, though. Rissa slept through him parking the car. When Trent opened her door and saw she was still asleep, he knew she needed it. Cradling her long limbs, he pulled her against his chest, letting the girl's limp head rest on his shoulder. As he carried her through the complex's breezeway, he couldn't help but think she weighed almost nothing.
Sin had mentioned she was just a rack of bones. Initially, Trent hadn't believed him. He'd assumed the man was simply trying to push off any suspicion of her being a temptation. This? If she was anyone else, he would say she was being intentionally starved.
It didn't take long to reach Sin's apartment, and the girl never stirred. Just one problem: he couldn't exactly knock with his hands full. So he kicked softly at Sin's door with his foot, five beats, then two, his usual rhythm.
It took a minute, but eventually, a woman's face appeared at the gap in the door. "What the hell," she asked, pulling it open for him to carry the girl inside.
"She's just asleep," Trent assured her. "Rob, I need that chair."
"Fuck," Rob said, looking up, and scrambling to his feet. "Sorry, Brother."
"Not a big deal," Trent assured him. "She weighs fucking nothing. And keep it down, because I think this little angel needs some real rest."
"What's wrong?" That was Sin, from the back of the room.
"Donotmove," said the silver-haired guy leaning over him. "It's just a girl."
"She's fine," Trent assured him. "Davis, keep an eye on her."
When Davis agreed, Trent made his way to Sin's side. Shirtless, the broken priest lay across the bed, the false spine along his lower back shattered, and the college kid was still picking pieces of it apart.
"You're a fucking mess," Trent teased.
Sin didn't bother responding to that. "How's Riss?"
"Passed out. She tell you that shit hurts?"
"The transfer?" Sin asked.
"Whoa," the guy said, looking up. "That's the Ingénue?"
"Yeah," both men said, getting back to the point they were discussing.
"From the look of her, it was like they were skinning her alive," Trent explained. "She braced for it, and took it for a while, but then it became too much. She also didn't want me to tell you."
"Ah, fuck." Sin shifted, and the guy shoved him back against the bed, holding him still. "No. I've never been allowed in the room. Once, I heard her scream, but she's always weak—well, weaker than normal—afterwards, so I knew it wasn't good. She never complained about it, though." He paused. "Unless that was what she meant when she said it had to be the ports malfunctioning?"
"No idea," Trent said. "I just know it's fucking inhumane. Yeah, and your girl said she needs a data connection and, I dunno, a machine that's not online." Trent shifted his attention to the young man repairing Sin's back. "Can you help with that, Zan?"
"Yep," Zan said. "Illegal as shit, though."
"I'm not the cops," Sin muttered.
"I know, Brother. That's why I said yes." Zan patted his shoulder. "Ready for legs?"
"Past ready," Sin groaned.
"Then hold on. This is gonna hurt."
***
The teen connected the last wire. Pain seared up his back, radiating down to his toes, and the sudden shock of it made him yell and jerk. Trent grabbed his shoulders as Zan held his legs. It was only a flare, and then the pain subsided.
"When you can, test each bit first. If something's off, I need to fix it." Zan patted his calf.
Sin sighed in relief. "I felt that."
