Vi leans forward as far as the rope allows, her body pitching toward him. The instant she puts weight on her bad leg, pain flashes across her face. Her lips press together as she fights the instinct to cry out.
Sting doesn’t wait. He pulls.
The chair scrapes loudly against the concrete, legs screeching as she’s hauled upward. Her body stumbles forward, momentum carrying her straight into him before she can catch herself.
His free hand comes up fast. It grips her waist hard enough that his fingers dig into her hips through the fabric of her clothes.
She gasps. Her chest presses into his, breath hot and uneven against his throat. For a heartbeat, they’re flush together, no space between them at all. He’s not letting her fall. Not letting her go.
Then she stiffens and forces herself upright, pushing just enough to stand on her own. But Sting’s hand doesn’t leave her waist. It stays there, firm and controlling, fingers spread wide like he’s anchoring her in place.
And it bugs the shit out of me.
“My knee,” she snaps.
“You can walk,” he says.
“I can limp.”
“Then limp.”
Rogue laughs. “Bold strategy.”
Vi shoots him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Shut up.”
The defiance is intact.
Sting’s grip tightens at her waist, sliding just a fraction lower, settling where he can guide her body exactly where he wants it.
“Where are you taking me?” she demands.
“Somewhere you’re not on display,” he replies.
“And after that?”
“That depends how well you listen, Vi.”
Her shoulders draw back. “I don’t take orders.”
He leans closer, his mouth near her ear. “Actually, you do,” he murmurs. “Or you’ll keep bleeding for this place.”
A shiver runs through her despite herself.
I step into their path. “She doesn’t go with you.”
Sting stops.
Vi is caught between us, Sting’s hand still gripping her wrist, the other firm at her lower back. The passage suddenly feels too narrow, the air thick with tension.
“You can’t keep her neutral,” he says calmly. “You already know that.”
“That doesn’t make her yours.”
“She’s already been chosen. We’re just making it official.”
Vi’s breathing is fast now, chest rising and fallingagainst Sting’s arm where he holds her. “Armen,” she says. “I need to know. What’s going to happen to me?”
I hesitate. Just long enough.
