Chapter Ten
The armored SUV slowed to a stop at the end of the narrow, uneven alleyway. One of Reuben’s men jumped out first, checking the growing shadows with a quick sweep before opening the rear door.
Reuben climbed out stiffly, a wince tugging at his features as he straightened. His boots crunched on a spray of gravel and broken glass. I followed him, dragging in a steadying breath. The air was thick with city smells. Stale oil. Wet concrete. Rust. And the deeper stench of decay.
Unlike the night before, I took note of the place Reuben called home.
His building looked forgotten by time, brickwork stained and sagging under the weight of years. His door was wedged into the crumbling wall, paint peeling, the wood warped. Above it, the single bulb flickered, the only source of light in the alleyway that was heavy with shadow.
“You good?” Reuben’s man asked.
Reuben nodded and his security, or whatever he was, climbed back into the passenger seat of the vehicle. It rolled off silently, leaving us in the hush of near-dark.
I hadn’t realized how tense I was until the murky air surrounded me in its warm, quiet cloak, so soothing compared to the roar of the underground ring.
Reuben offered his hand without looking at me.
I took it reluctantly, my mindset different toward him now.
It was with good reason I didn’t trust easily.
I followed him over the cracked asphalt toward his place.
There were no cameras here. No spotlights.
Just the creak of the door as it opened into dim stillness.
Inside, the air was heavy with the scent of amber, aged wood and the faintest trace of smoke. It was familiar and oddly safe.
Reuben toed off his boots, his robe clinging to him. He was squeaky clean now he’d washed away the sweat, and the blood that hadn’t been all his. He didn’t say anything at first, just rolled his sore shoulder before absently glancing at his bruised, scraped knuckles.
Then his eyes found mine, sudden concern lacing his voice when he asked, “How’s your ankle?”
I blinked. He hadn’t checked his busted lip or the swelling around his brow. But somehow, he remembered the burn he’d bandaged earlier like it mattered more. He’d gone from Reuben to Chief and back to Reuben again.
He stepped closer and crouched in front of me, already pulling off my boot, then reaching for the fraying edge of the gauze.
I tensed. “I’m fine—”
But he was already peeling the wrapping away.
He froze as he uncovered the skin beneath. It was close to perfect, soft and pink, with no sign of the previous bright red blisters. I swallowed hard. I didn’t need to be a scientist to know his thoughts. The burn looked to have healed a week ago, not overnight.
Reuben looked up at me like he was seeing someone new. “What the hell?” His voice wasn’t angry, just stunned.
I gave a small, tired shrug. “I heal fast.”
He stared another second, then shook his head like he didn’t quite believe what he’d seen but knew better than to argue.
“Fast is an understatement.” His gaze lingered for a beat longer before he stood with a grunt, flexing his fingers.
The shower hadn’t stopped the blood leaking across his grazed knuckles.
“Still so full of secrets,” he muttered, more to himself than to me.
“And you’re still bleeding,” I said, nodding at his hands.
He tilted his head with a half-smirk, then snorted as he rubbed at his jaw. “You should have seen me before my shower. Oh, wait, you did!”
His purple robe slipped from his shoulders, hanging open. His skin was mottled with bruises and scuffed cuts. Despite myself, my eyes traced the dark marks, the rawness beneath the tough facade. He was still human, vulnerable in ways I hadn’t expected.
He caught my glance and smirked, wincing as he moved. “It looks worse than it feels.”
“If you need help—“
I stopped and looked away, reminding myself that I wasn’t here to care for him, he’d been getting by without me just fine.
“A few wounds doesn’t make a person weak,” he said quietly, his voice rough but steady. “Not where I come from.”
I met his gaze. “No. But belonging to someone does.” I lifted my chin. “I’m not yours to keep.”
“Not yet.” His smile flickered, just for a second, before weariness settled back over his face, the shadow of fight still lingering. “There is strength in unity.
His gown flowed around him as he stalked into the kitchen, then filled a glass with water. The symbol of Chief was still there, but the man beneath was bruised and all too real. Despite the control he wielded, I saw the cracks.
He wasn’t invincible.
I turned away, my heart tightening. One week. That’s all I owed him after he’d saved me from those men, from Adam, too. After that, I’d be free.
I shook off the thought as I pulled off my remaining boot, then stepped into the bathroom and stripped off my clothes. The hot water hit my skin a moment later, washing away the sweat, the smoke, the heavy stink of the fight that still clung to me.
If only it could wash away the rest of my past traumas.
Toweling myself dry, I pulled on an oversized T-shirt from Mimi. It was soft and worn in, with a faded skull printed across the front. At least it was better than Reuben’s clothes. Wearing something of his would have drawn me even closer into his world, and I wasn’t ready for that.
I caught my reflection in the square mirror. Blue eyes stared back, glinting fiercely. I smiled. I wasn’t giving up anytime soon. Knotting my hair on top of my head, I cracked open the bathroom door.
Reuben’s cooking simmered faintly from the kitchen, the smell of something spicy, warm and vaguely familiar drifting toward me, making my stomach growl.
I sat next to Reuben at the kitchen island. He’d taken off his fighter’s robe and wore gray sweats with a soft white T-shirt. I was too hungry to appreciate his casual dress code or the fact he waited for me before eating.
I picked up my fork as I mumbled “Thanks,” then ate like it was my last meal.
When I finally pushed the bowl away, I didn’t apologize for the inelegant little burp that came out of nowhere.
I was done excusing my existence. I looked up at him, noting how little he ate or how his eyes didn’t stray far from me.
I managed a smile. “You really are a good cook.”
He chuckled, but there was something inflexible behind his eyes. “Thank you.” His humor faded and his voice lowered. “Are you all right?”
Shouldn’t I be asking him that? I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “I’m fine.”
He didn’t press, but the silence stretched until he finally asked, softer this time, “Are you sure? You’ve been quiet since we got back.”
I swallowed, my words caught somewhere between truth and deflection. “I’m just tired.”
Tired of being a prisoner. Tired of running. Tired of the memories that refused to fade. Adam’s face still haunted the edges of my mind, sharp as a blade.
Reuben studied me, then let it drop. “Nothing that a good night’s sleep won’t fix. You go to bed, I’ll clean up.”
“Oh, that’s not fair,” I protested. “You cooked, I should clean.”
His eyes glinted faintly. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have my own processes, a regiment I don’t like breaking. Call it superstition or something worse, but it’s worked for me so far.”
I nodded before I stood. I had noticed. If nothing else, I supposed living like I had for so long had made me observant.
By the time I climbed up into the niche that was Reuben’s bedroom, the long t-shirt barely covering my bare extremities beneath, the weight of the world was a little less on my shoulders.
He switched off the overhead light, then settled on the two-seater couch below me, the faint creak of its cushions the only sound as we settled into our separate spaces.
Sleep came unevenly. The shadows behind my eyelids churned with images I couldn’t quite shake.
Faces twisted in anger. Innocence soon after morphing into brutal endurance.
Then the sharp sting of pain followed by blazing shockwaves of energy that burned through my body before the clinical coldness of the facility opposed all else.
Then Adam appeared.
His presence slipped into the edges of my dreams like smoke under a door. Unstoppable and uninvited. Not touching...but almost. That was the worst of it. It was always almost.
His breath ghosted across the back of my neck. His voice low and patient, speaking my name like a promise. Like a claim.
I’d left before that had happened, before I could give into him in every way.
But now, in sleep, my body remembered what my mind tried to forget—how close I’d come to surrendering. How badly I’d wanted him to close the space between us.
In the dream, he finally did. His hands enclosed my waist. His mouth brushed mine, never quite kissing, but close enough that I was left aching. Desire curled low in my belly, a slow burn left behind by the man I’d escaped, but never quite erased.
I finally jerked awake, my breath catching and skin overheated.
The room was dark. Still. But I felt exposed, like the dream had reached out and touched me for real.
A soft rustle came from the couch. The ladder creaked as Reuben climbed it.
“Another nightmare?” His voice was low, rough, like gravel mixed with concern. It echoed somewhere deep inside me, stirring something I wasn’t ready to name.
I didn’t answer. Instead, I rolled over to the other side of the bed, pulling the sheet closer around me, trying to push the phantom of Adam’s touch back into the dark.
Without a word, Reuben climbed onto the bed, his weight depressing the mattress as he settled beside me. Close enough that I could feel his warmth. Close enough to ground me.
One of his hands found mine, his fingers brushing my skin with a static charge. “This is getting to be a habit,” he murmured, his voice soft but edged with something deeper.