“She wasn't,” he confirmed. “Wasn't convinced that she was in danger either.”
“I sense a big but coming,” Thunder said.
“Huge but.” Gaze unable to move from the spot where Cassandra had been when he came in, Dragon pinched the bridge of his nose, willing it to release the scent of blood that had been clogging it since he first caught a whiff of it. “I told her if she didn't want to come home with me, that I'd stay and watch over her here. She didn't want me inside, so I stayed in my car. About two hours ago, I smelled blood.”
“Someone came to attack her,” Steel said harshly, not bothering to control his anger that Dr. Gardner would go after an innocent to get to them, even though they’d done the exact same thing with Rose.
“Is she okay?” Rose asked, and he could imagine her running her palms down Steel’s pecs in an effort to soothe him.
“Two stab wounds, but she’s lucky it wasn't worse,” he answered. “That’s not all, though.”
“What else?” Voodoo asked, and he was sure the medic wanted to get his hands on Cassandra and do his thing, take her pain and heal her, or whatever it was he did that made people who should be dead survive. Not that he was sure Voodoo himself knew how he did it.
“The intruder had a syringe with him. We can get Prey to run tests, but I’m pretty sure it was a sedative.” Dragon had pocketed the syringe before the cops got there, he didn't need them getting in the way of this.
“So, Cassandra is now officially a target,” Lion said.
Hating that but unable to deny it, he had no choice but to agree. “She is.”
“You're staying with her,” Steel said, a statement, not a question. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind that he’d be sticking like glue to Cassandra until he was positive that she was no longer in any danger.
What happened after that, he had no idea.
Wanting Cassandra wasn't the same as agreeing it was a good thing for him to be part of her life. He was dangerous to her in so many ways, and not all of them had to do with the experimental drugs he’d been given.
Some of his faults he’d inherited the old-fashioned way.
Through his DNA.
January 5th
5:05 A.M.
Three hours ago, Cassandra had been standing right in the same exact spot she was right now, staring out her window at Dragon sitting watch over her house from his car.
Back then, all she’d had to worry about were the confusing feelings it stirred up to know that Dragon was looking out for her even when she didn't think there was any need for it. Being at war with herself wasn't fun, but she would definitely prefer it to fighting for her life.
In just a few hours, she’d been stabbed twice and watched a man die right in front of her. It shouldn’t make her queasy—after all, she’d killed before herself—and it didn't really, not in the sense that Dragon had killed someone. It was that he’d done it for her.
Sure, it was just one of many people he’d killed throughout his career, but this man had died because he’d broken into her house and come after her. She didn't feel responsible for his death in that she felt bad, after all, the man had come with the intent of attacking her, then injecting her with a sedative and abducting her, but she worried about Dragon’s motivations.
Had he just killed because it was his instinct to kill any and all threats, or had it been more personal?
It seemed like a stupid thing to worry about, almost like splitting hairs. The man was dead, Dragon had saved her, she was safe now, and she hadn't protested when Dragon told the cops she’d be with him, even though she knew for her emotional well-being she should insist she’d go to one of her brothers’ houses.
But his low blow had struck its mark.
Going to her brothers would be putting them in danger when they’d only just managed to get themselves out of the line of fire a handful of months ago. That would be extremely unfair of her, especially because the whole mess for her family had started when her rapist father’s sperm had attached itself to one of her mom’s eggs, resulting in her conception.
With a sigh, Cassandra let the curtain fall back into place, and much like she had three hours ago, she headed downstairs, only this time it was with an overnight bag and her treasured toy bunny from her childhood in her hands. The toy was sentimental to her because it had been given to her the day she was born by her mom and the man she desperately wished was her father, who she had believed to be her father up until a few months ago.
Throughout the months following her mom and stepdad’s death, it had been a security blanket of sorts for her, and she had refused to go anywhere without it. After learning the truth about her parentage, she’d considered burning it because it felt tainted somehow, but she’d been unable to bring herself to do it.
When she went to stay with Delta Team before she’d taken it with her, for some reason unable to leave it behind, and she felt the same way today.
Dragon was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs, and she noted how his gaze dropped to the stuffed bunny in her hand. Was that why he called her little rabbit? She’d neverheard him call her that before, but the nickname had slipped out earlier, and with such ease that she assumed it was how he thought about her.
Did he think about her?
