Chapter 5 Arrow #2
Lowering to my knees on the cold stone, I simply watch her as I wait for my vision to acclimate. I hope she knows I’m here, but even more so that my presence might offer some degree of comfort. I would do anything for her. Because this girl, she does help me without even being aware how much.
“Delilah,” I gasp out, each syllable rasping up from the deepest parts of me.
Just when I think she’s set on ignoring me, her lithe limbs begin to move.
At first, she covers her face with her hands, but then she peeks from behind them.
Her voice is scratchy and hoarse as she murmurs, “Arrow, why are you here?” Those words are spoken so softly, for a moment, I assume my mind is playing tricks on me.
“I told you I’d come back”—my breath hitches—“and I meant it.” Heat rushes through me at the way her gaze roams my face.
But then, she tears her attention from me and lowers her head to her knees.
A flicker of something wild and ravenous lights in my chest, torment gripping me.
“Did he—?” Fuck. I’m unable to even finish the question.
I know what he said to her. I know what I heard.
And I certainly am aware of what the Collective’s goal during the Hunting was.
My lungs shrivel in my chest, like they’re so fucking disappointed in me that they’re unwilling to draw in another breath.
“I don’t know if he … finished.” Her sad chuckle squeezes at my heart. “You shouldn’t be here,” she whispers.
I let out an aggrieved breath. “And I can’t not be.” Hesitating only a second, I reach into my pocket, feeling for the key, and get to my feet. It irritates me that I can hardly see her. I need—
“That’s sweet and all, but what makes you think I want you anywhere near me?” With her jaw locked tight, she looks up and shakes her head, eyes following my every movement in the dark. “Do you honestly think you’re any better than the rest of them?” There’s a sharpness to her voice. An anger.
Earlier, I swear she trusted us. At least to a certain degree.
I exhale heavily. She begged us not to abandon her.
And then we did. Maybe leaving her to the whims of this compound’s insanity is as bad as being the aggressors.
Fucking Finneas. Fucking Kiefer. Fucking Dragan.
She has every right to be questioning me and my motives.
For several agonizing seconds, she simply stares at me, but then, her eyes crash shut, and she covers her face with both hands again. Her breathing is ragged, and the way she’s struggling— Fuck. I feel as if I’m torturing her just by being here. I scrub my face in frustration. “Delilah, I’m sorry.”
Somewhere in my head, an idea worms its way free.
If I can just show her that I’m here for her.
That I’d never hurt her. Not on purpose, anyway.
I slip the key into the lock, tug the cage open, and step inside.
As if I were approaching a wounded animal, I move slowly, giving her time to understand that she needs not fear me.
Once I’m closer, I still don’t have a clue what the right thing to do is or even what my intention is.
But I need to do something, so I squat and hold out my hands to her.
The shield of her hands drops, and what I know are brilliant blue eyes flick to mine, wary.
There’s a sheen to them. Tears. I bite back an oath.
All I want to do is pull her into my arms and hold her.
Make everything that happened go the fuck away.
I’m nearly out of my head with uncertainty and swallow past the hard lump in my throat, hoping she doesn’t flip the fuck out and punch me in the eye again. “Sit with me.”
At this range, the tremble of her lips is an undeniable indicator of just how close she is to breaking down.
Eyeing me, she heaves out a disbelieving breath.
“Tell me the truth, Arrow. Did that maniac send you in here to finish the job? I bet they were pretty disappointed that I didn’t just lie down and spread my legs for the first of you to catch me. ”
My eyes drift over the contours of her face, down her neck.
“No one sent me.” I glance toward my outstretched hands again, then lock eyes with her, working a hard swallow.
Come on, siren. The breath she drags in causes her chest to rise, drawing my attention, but then it shifts as she places one shaking hand in mine.
My senses light up like lightning illuminating the night sky. I give her the slightest of nods, encouraging. Then I rise, stepping forward to bring her closer.
Shaking in my hold, her legs all but give out. “Sorry,” she murmurs after she clutches at my forearm for balance.
“No need to be.” I hate that she’d apologize.
We did this to her. I bring her to the blanket, then encourage her to sit.
She eyes me, encircling her bare legs with her arms. I recognize it as a defensive maneuver, and who am I to argue?
Tipping my head to the side, I study the subtle glances she makes from the corner of her eye.
It’s as if she’s expecting someone to snatch her up and haul her away.
“I’m here. You don’t have to be afraid.”
Her lips mash together as she studies my face.
“You confuse me.” Wincing, she looks away before raising a hand to glide the pads of her fingers along the skin of her throat.
It’s probably for the best that I can’t see the bruising, but I know it’s there all the same.
“Do you even get how fucked-up this place is?” she whispers.
My eyes crash shut. The answer is more complex and difficult to explain than she could ever understand.
But at my core, I do know. The things I’ve seen— Chewing on my lip, I’m unable to give her a straight answer.
This woman has knocked me off my axis. I need to know more about her, because I think she’s worth fighting for.
In the quiet, I exhale. “Did you really punch Finneas in his groin?”
Her eyes flick upward to meet mine, a certain amount of defiance in them. I respect it. “Yes,” she huffs before scooting backward. Away from me. Don’t like that.
I hold up a hand. “Was just curious is all.” Seeing how affected this woman is by rituals and rules and even just the way we live is opening my eyes.
This way of life has always been an indisputable reality.
I’ve accepted all of it without question.
But now, having a chance to talk to her, seeing and hearing how what we’ve done has affected her—it’s disturbing.
I scrub a hand roughly in my hair as a knot wedges itself in my throat.
What really twists my gut is that I should have seen this clearly so long ago. It’s been right in front of my face. The things that transpire in the dead of night fucking haunt my dreams.
I wish I could change how the Hunting played out. I’d have figured out a better way to keep her safe from any fucker who thought they’d lay a hand on her. But there’s not a way to go back, and it infuriates me that I’m so motherfucking helpless.
I eye her slim fingers as they absently drift over the smooth column of her throat. “Does it hurt?” Without thinking, I reach out to slide a few fingers over her skin. The hard flinch that jerks her entire body makes my heart squeeze in my chest. I immediately drop my hand.
“I’m fine,” she rasps.
“You’re not. Your neck—” I want to ask what exactly went down with Dragan, but I also don’t want to put her through retelling something like that.
Not when I have a fairly clear vision of what must have happened.
I just wish Cross had had more time to have a look at her before shit went sideways with Malakai.
I reach for her again. An exhale skitters free from her lips, and a shiver racks her body.
The stone floor is ice cold, seeping into my bones through both my pants and the blanket below.
“Sit with me?” The indecision in her eyes digs a hole in my chest. I wait, allowing her time before patting my leg. “You’ll be warmer.”
Drawing in a deep breath, her body finally sags, relenting.
My heart thuds wildly as my siren crawls onto my lap and practically burrows against my chest, seeking out the warmth that our skin-on-skin contact provides.
Her slim frame jerks with every unsteady breath she takes. “Please don’t hurt me, Arrow.”
Those words whispered from her lips against my chest all but gut me. I could never.