54
EMERSYN
Present Day
I shoved away from the shower wall.
My chest heaved and I wiped water from my eyes as the present rushed back. I shrugged my shoulders and swore I felt every single scar on my back. I’d failed in a spectacular fashion that night and lost my entire team. But, my suffering hadn’t ended there.
Days later, I’d woken up in a boarding house surrounded by children in chains—convinced I’d died and gone to hell.
Unfortunately, the reality was much worse.
For the next three years, I had a front row seat to what my childhood could have turned into at Octavius’ hands, and witnessed the corruption of innocence he continued to spread because of my inability to kill him.
My time with Quarry was a hazy nightmare.
I’d spent most of it protecting the younger girls as much as I could.
I made plans to escape, but each time I went to execute them, we’d be moved or I wouldn’t have the opportunity to free the young ones, and I couldn’t live with myself if I left them to save myself.
Years passed and eventually I heard I was headed to the Red Auction. I wondered if that would be where I’d get a chance at Octavius, or Albatron, except before I could learn more, Mahoney had shown up and brought me to the island.
Adrenaline surged through me. If Octavius was coming here, I was going to get another chance to kill him and this time, I wasn’t going to fail.
The water ran black around me. I was filthy.
The dirtiest I’d probably ever been in my life.
Mud was places I didn’t know mud could get, and it took me a while until I felt clean.
After I washed my hair for the third time, I decided that was as good as it was going to get and shut off the shower.
I heard Griffin and Seven’s quiet voices and nerves shot through me.
I still wasn’t convinced they weren’t going to make me pay for their kindness.
I wrapped myself in a large towel and with a deep breath, braced myself and opened the door.
Both of their eyes flickered up briefly as I entered the room, but neither of them stopped what they were doing.
Seven stood in the kitchenette while something that smelled mouthwatering cooked in a skillet.
Griffin sat at the table, a cigarette balanced between his lips as he cleaned a few guns near a half-open window.
“There’s a sweatshirt on that chair, gorgeous,” Seven called out. “Food will be ready in a minute.”
I grabbed the sweatshirt and quickly put it on. It went down to my thighs, and I refused to acknowledge how content it made me feel to have it on again. I hung up the towel and slowly perched on the edge of the armchair across from Griffin.
“I’m going to shower,” Griffin grumbled.
He snubbed out his cigarette and disappeared into the bathroom.
“Don’t mind him—” Seven set a plate of food down in front of me. “I hope you like quesadillas. They are my specialty. Okay, between you and me, quesadillas are one of the only things I know how to make, but whatever.”
What was in front of me was not just a simple quesadilla.
It was smothered in cheese, inside and out, grilled to perfection and juicy with meat grease.
There were two perfect dollops of sour cream and salsa on the side.
Where he got all the ingredients from, I had no idea, but my mouth watered just looking at it.
My stomach growled loudly, and Seven’s grin grew wider.
“I know it’s not packaged so you’ll just have to trust me that I didn’t drug it,” Seven said dryly. “If you want me to take a bite first, let me know.”
He winked and moved back to the kitchen where he started on a second one.
I was too hungry to debate much with myself, so I said fuck it and took a bite.
The flavor exploded across my tongue and I had to bite back the undignified moan that threatened.
I must have made a face though because Seven chuckled.
“Good?”
I nodded and focused on eating. He finished cooking two more quesadillas and brought one over to eat with me at the table. The silence was surprisingly comfortable. It took all of my will power not to lick the plate when I was done.
The shower switched off and the bathroom door opened.
Steam wafted into the room along with the spicy scent of male body wash.
I glanced over my shoulder and—holy fucking hell—Griffin was shirtless, sweats slung low on his hips.
Water droplets trailed down the indents of his abs, and I forgot how to breathe.
Jesus fucking christ.
My eyes slid up his body to clash with his scowling face. He held a wadded up bandage to his shoulder wound that bled gently after a thorough wash. I quickly looked away but it was too late. Seven smirked from across the table and took my empty plate with his own back to the sink.
“He’s easy on the eyes, isn’t he?” He winked.
I was not answering that.
Griffin came over with a small med kit and knelt at the base of my chair.
“Let me see those puncture wounds,” he said.
“Shouldn’t you deal with that?” I jerked my head at his own injury.
Griffin simply gestured for my hand and ignored my comment. I lay my hand on the table and he carefully cleaned both the thorn wounds and the cut from the statue. I tried to ignore my heart as it pounded in my chest at his proximity. He wrapped up my hand, his fingers deft and efficient.
Seven disappeared into the bathroom and the awkwardness settled over both of us. I tried not to stare at his naked chest, but it was hard not to. Thankfully, after checking a cut on my face, he moved back to the other chair.
“That needs stitches,” I grumbled.
Griffin looked down at the wound and pulled the medical kit closer to him. He fiddled with the suture supplies and began the awkward process of stitching up an area he could barely see. I sighed and stood up. I perched on the table in between his legs and grabbed the needle from him.
“Let me do it,” I grumbled.
“I can do it,” he insisted.
I batted his hand away and scowled at him. “It would be really irritating to watch you fumble through this.”
“Then don’t watch,” he growled. “It’s nothing I haven’t done before.”
“Just accept my help.”
“That’s good advice, maybe you should follow it,” Griffin said, his words dripping in sarcasm.
I scowled at him and put my hands on his shoulder anyway. That was a mistake. Fire shot through my hands like I’d just touched a live coal.
We both froze.
His body stiffened, muscles hard as though he was afraid one wrong twitch would startle me. I dug the needle into his skin—no reaction. I was hyper aware of every small movement, and the rise and fall of his chest. I dug the needle in again—harder.
“Is that necessary?” He grumbled.
“So you can feel it.”
He grabbed my wrist until I looked at him. “Don’t push me,” he said, his voice strained.
“Or what?”
Whatever he saw on my face made him pause because he released my wrist and looked away.
“There are consequences to your actions,” he said.
I resumed stitching, but went easier on him. “I’m well aware—”
“No, I don’t think you are,” he said firmly.
“I think you push to ensure that whoever you’re around ends up acting exactly like you predicted.
If you know how they’ll act, you can have some sort of control over the outcome.
” He moved his free hand between us. “Like this—you offered to stitch me up because you’re trying to see at what moment I’ll prove you right.
If you do something nice, maybe I’ll expect something.
If you poke too hard and choose violence, maybe I’ll retaliate in turn.
It’s all a test. Or, really, more like a trap. ”
I didn’t like how accurate his words were. I pressed my lips together and resumed stitching–albiet with a gentler hand.
“Not everyone is out to hurt you,” he said, softly.
I wanted to say something snarky back, but my throat closed, and I didn’t trust my voice not to give away how vulnerable his words made me feel—like he’d seen me.
I quickly finished and went to duck away, but Griffin rose to his feet and towered over me as I perched on the table.
There was suddenly a whole swatch of tanned, toned skin right in front of my face.
My traitorous pussy thought that was just awesome, while my brain fired off warning signals telling me I needed to run—or fight.
“You can poke, and push, and do whatever it is you need to do to test my boundaries,” he said. “You won’t find what you’re looking for.”
“Don’t be so sure,” I scowled.
A cocky smirk took over his features and he leaned in even closer. “The only thing I’m sure of is I will never do something to you without your permission. So, if that’s the edge you’re trying to push me over—bring it on, Emersyn—bring it the fuck on.”
The sound of my name on his tongue, again, and the declaration of asking my permission made me want to melt into a puddle at his feet.
Quite frankly, it was embarrassing. I could feel the pink heat on my cheeks, which only made him smirk more, which only made whoever the horny demon inside me was more persistent.
“Isn’t this cozy?”
We both glanced over at Seven who emerged from the bathroom. Thankfully, he was fully clothed, even though I would have liked to see if his tattoos extended up his arms and over his—
What the fuck—I needed to calm the hell down. Seven already looked hot as fuck with his hair unbound as he let it air dry around his shoulders.
God, this wasn’t good.
Seven looked between the both of us with a look like he had some inside joke with himself.
Griffin glared at him and moved into the kitchen where he shoved half of the quesadilla into his mouth.
I became distracted by the view from behind, and with great effort, turned away before I embarrassed myself further.
It was then that I remembered something.
“You keep calling me by my real name,” I said.
Griffin and Seven both froze at the same time.
“Did Mahoney tell you?” I asked.
Griffin swallowed his food and looked at me sharply. “Mahoney knows your name?”
At my nod, Griffin exchanged a long, bleak look with Seven. I looked back and forth between them in confusion. Something was wrong.
“Fuck,” Seven muttered. “I think you need to tell her.”
Griffin’s jaw tightened and he fixed me with a long, expressionless look, the food on his plate forgotten. He wiped his mouth and walked back over to the med kit where he grabbed a bandage and slapped it over his stitches. He was stalling.
“Mahoney didn’t tell us,” Griffin said.
“Then, how do you know who I am?” I asked warily.
Griffin tapped the table like this solid man had suddenly developed a nervous tic. He looked at Seven one last time before his gaze settled on mine and held.
“Your father—” My stomach plummeted at his words. “Your father has been looking for you—we’ve been helping him.” If those words weren’t enough to shock me, his next ones certainly were.
“We’re here to take you home.”