My fingers automatically touched the bandage again. “What… what happened to the?—”
“Oh, those men are probably dead,” she said so calmly, it took me several moments to even register the words. “Ryder dealt with it. Don’t worry, they can’t hurt you again.”
“Ryder… dealt with it?” I repeated, my tone harsh. “He’s the one who gave me to those men in the first place.”
Elena visibly winced, her pale brows drawing together. “I think I’ll leave that up to him to explain.” Standing, she brushed her palms against her jeans. I wasn’t sure whether it was a nervous gesture or just habit.
“Where is he, exactly?” I asked, remembering him catching me, and then nothing.
“He had to deal with something, but I’m sure he’ll be here soon.” Elena nibbled her bottom lip. “I hope you don’t mind me getting you dressed,” she said quickly before Icould ask another question. “Or for doing your hair. Ryder mentioned you preferred it out of your face.”
My eyes narrowed on her. “He said that?”
“Of course. Ryder notices everything.” She smiled. “I’ve added some of my clothes to the wardrobe if you’d like to change. We’re almost the same size—oh, and dinner will be ready soon. I hope you’ll join us.”
Elena hesitated at the door, looking back over her shoulder as if wanting to say more. But she didn’t, instead giving me a single nod as she exited the bedroom as quickly as she’d entered.
Swinging my legs off the bed, I tested my balance. Aside from a dull ache in my hips and shoulder, I felt surprisingly steady. Crossing over to the wardrobe, I reached for the door then paused, catching my reflection in the mirror hanging above it.
I looked worse than I felt. Thin cuts traced across my face, shallow enough not to leave any lasting marks but still angry against my skin. Peeling back the bandage on my forehead, I examined the larger wound, finding it clean and without stitches. The colour around it was a nasty purple, the bruise tender when I pressed against it. But it was no worse than the bruise that crossed over my chest.
Ignoring the dresses, I pulled out a long-sleeved top and a pair of jeans from the wardrobe, then pulled them on, studying my body as I adjusted the fabric. A few more bruises and cuts decorated my skin, but overall, I looked less like someone who’d been in an accident and more like someone who’d lost a fight with a thorn bush.
“…You promised,” Elena’s voice floated up the stairs just as I eased the bedroom door open. “He’s your brother.”
“I’m trying to not get involved,” Hendrix answered, his deep voice unmistakable.
“I think we’re already involved, my love.”
Peering over the banister, I found Elena cupping Hendrix’s cheek affectionately. The same man who’d glared at me like I was a threat now looked at his wife as if she were the only woman in the world.
A floorboard creaked beneath my foot, and Hendrix’s gaze snapped upward, locking on me. In an instant, the softness vanished from his eyes only to be replaced by that familiar, guarded steel. Elena turned too, her hand moving to rest over his heart as they both watched me descend the stairs.
She reached for my free hand, and I didn’t resist. The scent of freshly baked bread met me as she guided me toward the kitchen where a table waited with mismatched china, a steaming pot of tea, and enough food to feed an army.
Beyond the window above the sink the sun was sinking, painting the trees in shades of gold and rose.
Hendrix followed silently, but he didn’t take a seat while I was ushered down by Elena.
“Where am I?” I finally asked, my eyes darting between Elena, who frantically moved around the kitchen, and Hendrix, who stood with his arms crossed like some prison guard.
“This is our cottage,” she answered, her tone light. “It’s safe.”
My eyes narrowed. “Safe from who, exactly?”
The couple shared a knowing look, but it lasted barely a heartbeat before Elena reached for the teapot and poured three cups of tea. I don’t know why I found the image of Hendrix drinking from the little pink teacup amusing, but I did.
Wrapping my hands around the cup when she passed it to me, I let the heat sink into my skin like I was starving for it.
“Thank you,” I said, then shook my head. “But I can’t stay here.”
“You can’t leave,” Hendrix said, his voice quiet despite his tone leaving no room for argument. “Not until Ryder’s back.”
The snort that ripped from my throat was visceral. “I’m sorry, but Ryder can go fuck himself.”
Elena choked on a laugh, catching the edge of the sink for balance. When she finally straightened, she was grinning. “I think we’re going to be friends,” she said with a wink. “No one’s forcing you to stay. But maybe you should wait until you’ve spoken to Ryder first.”
“What if I don’t care what he has to say?” I shot back, meeting Hendrix’s stare.
