Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
“You know there are leftovers in the fridge.”
Steel grunted at Voodoo and set the large casserole dish back into the oven. He knew there were leftovers in the fridge he could have heated up for the little ladybug, but still here he was cooking for her.
“We have bread and cheese and stuff too. Could have just made her a sandwich,” Voodoo added.
“Pretty sure the least we owe her since he stole her from her bed on Christmas Eve and made her miss the holiday is some real food before we send her packing,” he mumbled, even though it had nothing to do with that.
“Pretty sure your little ladybug didn't have plans to celebrate the holidays,” Voodoo shot back. “If she did, her house would have been decorated like all the others.”
Yet it wasn't.
Like their own home, it had been left bare, as though Christmas didn't even exist.
“You want to know why,” Voodoo said.
“Why what?”
Even if he hadn't been facing his friend, he would have known that Voodoo rolled his eyes at that.
It was a lame thing to ask because Steel knew he wasn't fooling any of them.
For some irritating reason, the little ladybug had gotten under his skin.
It wasn't like he cared about her or what happened to her—not exactly anyway—he just felt this pull toward her that was completely unwanted.
“Really? You're going to play at being obtuse. That’s insulting, given not only your own high IQ but ours as well.”
The fact that they had all been both physically strong and highly intelligent had been the reason they were accepted to the program that Dr. Gardner was running.
If only they’d known what exactly it entailed, they never would have signed up for it.
Then again, that had been the point, the crazed scientist hadn't wanted anyone to know what he was really trying to do.
“I don’t care why Rose doesn’t celebrate Christmas,” he said, somewhat belligerently.
But the problem was he didn't even understand what he was feeling for the little ladybug, or why he was feeling anything at all, since Dr. Gardner had destroyed their ability to love and empathize with other human beings. The last thing he wanted to do was talk to someone else about what he himself couldn’t figure out.
“Liar.” Voodoo said the word, but there was no heat in it, it was just stated like a fact. “You know we aren't monsters. Not really. Only if we let ourselves become them.”
Of all of them, Voodoo was the one who had clung to his humanity the most. They’d always assumed it was just because the man had always been a healer, a saver, so it had been harder for the drugs they’d been given to amputate that part of his humanity.
“Lion has never given up on the woman from his past,” Voodoo continued.
“He stays away from her, but whoever she is, he still loves her. What they did to us couldn’t take that from him.
And he watched over Monique while she was here, looked out for her.
Dragon fell for Cassandra, we all watched it happen.
And none of us can deny that we would burn the world to the ground for Beth.
I'm not denying that what they did to us was wrong, or that it didn't have a profound impact. The rage we all struggled to contain during those first months, the detachment we all feel, and the tight control we keep on our emotions that we only allow out when we have a deserving target before us. We’re changed, but we’re not monsters. ”
A part of him wanted to believe that what Voodoo was saying was true, that their humanity hadn't been completely stripped from them.
There was a part of him that wanted to believe it wasn't as well. Ten years was a long time, and they’d long ago accepted that this was who they were now, this was their life.
“All I'm saying is there’s nothing wrong with admitting that you feel something for her. Hell, the woman has been a rock star since we brought her here. She wasn't anything like we were expecting. She’s strong and brave, tough and sassy. She doesn’t back down even when she has to be scared.”
“We’re broken,” Steel reminded his friend.
It was true, not only had there been uncontrollable rage inside them when they first underwent the treatments that altered them, but there had been suicidal thoughts as well.
In fact, the other team that began treatment at the same time hadn't survived the first three months. Two of the six men killed themselves, then a third killed the other three and then himself. Like the rage over time, they’d learned to control those impulses, but they hadn't completely gone away.
Even if he did feel anything for the little ladybug, where did that leave either one of them?
It wasn't like Rose was going to be tripping over herself to go out on a date with him after he’d abducted and tortured her.
He wouldn't even know what to do to plan a date anymore, that part of his life felt so long ago.
Delta Team lived out there alone, to protect others and themselves, they battled their anger and suicidal thoughts, they searched for a way to get their vengeance, and they worked for Prey.
There was no room for anything or anyone else in their lives.
“Your weird little ladybug is tumbling around the room like she’s possessed,” Blade announced as he strolled into the kitchen with a tablet in his hand.
“Tumbling?” he repeated, glad to have something else to focus on other than the heavy conversation Voodoo had brought with him. In the end, it didn't matter if he felt a pull toward the little ladybug, after he fed her and she passed out, they were packing her up and returning her to her home.
All the while praying they hadn't damaged her too badly.
The little ladybug already seemed to carry a lot of scars, he didn't want to add to her nightmares, even as he knew that they had. For one thing, she’d likely never go to sleep again without fear of waking up with a man dressed all in black standing beside her bed.
Crossing to the table where his tablet lay, he snatched it up, unlocked it, and brought up the camera feed from the basement cell.
Sure enough, there Rose was, flipping and spinning backward and forward across the small room.
Her form was near perfect, and it was clear that she was a highly trained gymnast.
Watching her was mesmerizing. She reminded him of the wind, moving with grace and a strength that couldn’t be measured by normal standards. She didn't stop for breath, moving with a restlessness that he was sure came from the stress of being held in a tiny, windowless room for three days now.
There was no way Rose didn't know someone was watching her, but there was freedom in her movements.
She was tumbling without a care in the world, and she was stunning.
Each time she flipped her pajama top moved with her, showing glimpses of the underside of the small swell of her breasts, and a growl rumbled from his chest before he even realized it.
Both Voodoo and Blade laughed.
“Okay, we won't keep watching to get another glimpse of your girl’s breasts,” Blade said with a smirk as he set his tablet down and strolled back out of the kitchen.
“Think about what I said, yeah?” Voodoo added as he too sauntered off, leaving Steel alone with the tablet and the meal he was cooking for the little ladybug.
“I didn't think I'd feel any regret for using you,” he whispered to the woman flipping so effortlessly on the screen he held a little too tightly. “You were just a tool, a means to an end. I thought we’d use you, then ship you off home once we killed your brother. I never let myself think about the consequences of using you, how it might break you, how you’d recover, if you even would.
But I underestimated you, didn't I, little ladybug? Because you're not breakable.”
There was no doubt that Rose was a kindred soul, and he knew that the person responsible for leaving both of them with scars that ran deep enough that neither would ever be considered normal was the same man.
“When I kill him, I’ll get in some strikes for you, little ladybug,” he assured her.
Some of Ridge’s screams before he took his last breath should be for Rose, it seemed only right considering she was likely the man’s first victim.
Ridge might not have played with his sister’s DNA, but whatever he’d done to her had forged a strength that didn't flinch in the face of torture.
Just as he was about to set the tablet down and check on the meal he was preparing for his little ladybug, he watched as Rose suddenly flung herself off the ground, using the door handle as a steppingstone as she flew across the air.
For a second she seemed to hang there, and he was already preparing himself to assess how badly she’d injured herself when she came down on the hard concrete floor.
Only she didn't come down.
Her fingers connected with the flimsy covering for the vent.
Swinging her body side to side, when she did hit the ground, it was with the vent cover in hand, and with a graceful landing.
Already moving for the basement stairs, Steel watched as Rose didn't hesitate to perform the same maneuver, this time toward the open vent that was just large enough for her to fit inside.
But when she managed to scramble up inside it, he watched in horror as the ceiling began to sway and dip, not designed to hold a person’s weight, not even someone as small as Rose.
As she fell, this time along with the ceiling, Steel knew he could never make it to her in time to save her.
December 27th
12:26 P.M.
After tumbling around the room for what she had to guess was close to fifteen minutes, maybe even twenty, it was hard to keep count when she was flipping and spinning backward and forward across the floor, Rose decided anyone watching her was bored now.
Lulled into a false sense of security.
Maybe they thought she had lost her mind, maybe they thought she was trying to do her best to cling to it, it didn't matter.