Other things I don’t recognize.
Shit. What are they planning?
Carter reaches for the cup on the end table beside him and hands it to me.
I quickly take it as I sit up, relieved that Killian put cream on my ass before bed. Again I look at the table, and my relief turns to uneasiness once again.
“What are you three up to?”
The guys all seem nervous, which only increases my anxiety.
Knox is the first to speak.
“We need you to hear us out, Tesoro. Please listen before reacting.”
I take a big swallow of my coffee, wishing it was something stronger because I think I’m going to need it.
“Someone better start talking. Fast.”
Killian clears his throat nervously.
“Killer, we don’t know what is planned for this fight. We are worried for your safety.”
He waves his hand over the table in front of him and continues.
“This is for a tracker. We need to know where you are at all times.”
“You think they're going to kidnap me?” I ask quickly, and Carter shrugs his shoulders.
“It’s a definite possibility.”
I settle my gaze on Killian and speak a firm, “No. I am not consenting to this.”
My eyes move from him to Knox. I see profound sadness, a look of regret, and his words rattle me to the core.
“We were hoping you’d consent, Tesoro, but we are doing this with or without. This is not to hurt you. We are protecting you. If you’re taken, we will be able to find you. This is not an act of cruelty but one of love.”
I glance at Carter, who watches me like he’s waiting for me to run. He probably is.
“After the fight you’d take it out?”
He shakes his head.
“No. We like the idea of knowing where you are.”
I look at Killian remembering what he once told me about his brother, before returning my gaze to Carter.
“Of course you do. You stalked me for how long before shooting me with a dart?”
Pointing a finger at Killian, my voice gets louder as I shake.
“And you. This is how you make up for what you did? Track me like I’m an animal? Nothing more than a possession?”
He rises from his chair and walks over to the side of the bed. His head hangs down, his glare angry but mixed with pain.
“Have you given any thought to what happens if the fucking Prophet gets his hands on you? Because we have ad fucking nauseam. The thought terrifies us, and it should terrify you.”
I swallow hard, knowing he’s right. If he takes me, I’ll be tortured until my body gives out and I die. I know this. I’ve always known this, but I try not to think about it.
