10. Quinn
10
QUINN
T he headaches and dizziness are gone within twenty-four hours. Still, I take several days off of school, lying in bed to recover physically from my injuries. And while the welts slowly fade into faint red marks, the bruises gradually shifting from purple and black into a sickly mottled green color, my nightmares only seem to get worse.
Night after night, I jolt awake, my aggressors’ visages imprinted in my mind’s eye. But after that first night, Lance hasn’t come to check on me, even when the dreams get bad enough that I wake in a cold sweat.
More than once, I’ve been tempted to ask him to stay until I drift off because I slept so soundly the night that he did. But I won’t. I don’t want to appear weak and frightened—especially to Lance—and he has better things to do with his time than tuck me in at night like a child. Which he probably already sees me as most of the time.
He has continued to spend the night in the room across the hall, however. I know because I can hear his hushed conversations with Killian through the door late at night, and when Cheryl brings me my meals, Lance often stops in to check on me and chat—well, let me chat.
By the weekend, I know I can’t keep hiding in my room, no matter how tempting it might be. I would love nothing more than to keep my head tucked into my shell. Why would I risk sticking my neck out again? Nothing is worth enduring the experience I did. And at the same time, I can’t just give up on life, throw it all away over one traumatic event.
So rather than take my breakfast in my room, I march down to the dining room to join my brother, Natasha, and Lance.
“Morning,” Killian says, his green eyes lighting up as soon as I enter.
My heart twists at the way his concern lines seem to soften on his face. I don’t like how worried I must have made him. “Morning,” I say with a sheepish grin. I nod to Natasha, then cast a shy glance in Lance’s direction.
Heat pools in my cheeks when I find him looking at me, his blue eyes pensive. But he doesn’t say a word. Just gives a subtle tip of the head before going back to his eggs.
Silence stretches in the room as I settle into my chair. Cheryl bustles in a moment later, beaming as she delivers my favorite—pancakes smothered in fresh berries. “Miss Quinn,” she says affectionately, beaming as she sets the plate before me.
“Thanks, Cheryl,” I murmur, the heat growing more intense with the realization that everyone around me seems to have been waiting with bated breath for me to get out of bed.
Everyone except Lance, of course, who seems steadily determined to clean his plate.
“I think I’ll start classes again on Monday,” I state when the silence becomes too painful.
He looks up from his food to study my face. “Are you sure? There’s nothing wrong with taking your time,” he insists.
“I’m sure,” I say.
He nods. “I figured you wouldn’t give me much of a break from worrying, so I’ve assigned Lance as your guard.”
My stomach does a nervous flip-flop, and I glance in Lance’s direction once more. “I?—”
“Before you can argue,” Killian cuts in, raising his hand, “this is non-negotiable. I don’t trust Lucian as far as I could throw him, and I’m not taking any more risks. So you either deal with having a bodyguard until this conflict is over, or you wait to go back to class. I’m fine with either of those options.”
My lips press closed, and I can’t help but smile at my brother’s protective stubbornness. I know I’ve argued with him endlessly over the years about having to drag guards around with me wherever I go. But this time, I don’t mind. After the dreams I keep having, in which Lucian’s men find me walking between classes, I’ve been debating whether I could find the courage to go back to school at all. In the end, I couldn’t let those men have the satisfaction of destroying my future.
And having Lance with me will be a massive comfort. I know he won’t let anything happen to me. Still, I feel my temperature rising just thinking about being in his proximity for an extended period like that. Again, I glance up at him from beneath my lashes and feel the blush turning me a deep shade of red when I find him watching me again.
“I wasn’t going to argue, actually,” I say, turning my gaze back to Killian before I keel over with embarrassment. “I was going to thank you. I know sparing Lance will be inconvenient.”
“Considering the number of times you’ve patched us all up, I assure you, it’s the least we could do to pay you back. And, Quinn, you’re my kid sister. All I want is for you to be safe and happy.”
My heart feels like it just might explode in my chest, and my eyes sting with unexpected tears. I love my brother so much, and I know he loves me too. But he doesn’t often say sweet things like that. And with how raw and emotional I’ve felt since my kidnapping, hearing it is almost enough to make me cry.
“I was thinking I could show you some self-defense moves as well, if you’re going to be out and about. They’ll help if you get caught in a tight spot again.” Natasha looks about as threatening as I feel sitting next to Killian, her petite frame slim and feminine. But her silver eyes shine with sincerity.
“You know some self-defense?” I ask, surprised.
Killian gives a slight snort, and Natasha sends him a narrow-eyed glare before turning back to me. “Yes, I’m happy to give you some pointers if you’d like.”
Something in my chest loosens at the idea of being able to defend myself. If, for instance, I could have known some way to get away from my captor before he took me. And gratitude eases the tension in my shoulders as my lips stretch into a sincere smile. “That would be wonderful, if you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. You feel good enough to get some practice in today?”
“Definitely,” I agree, nodding enthusiastically.
Within the next hour, I’m dressed in a sports bra, leggings, and running shoes, facing off with the petite Russian beauty in my brother’s home gym. Her thick burgundy hair is pulled back into a basic French braid. And dressed in formfitting workout apparel, Natasha looks far less fragile than she does in her typical feminine fashion.
In fact, she looks impressively fit and toned as she stands with her feet shoulder-width apart, her knees and hips slightly bent as if she’s ready to spring into action at any moment. And while her arms rest casually by her sides, I get the feeling no one could catch her unawares.
“I’ll teach you a few different ways to fend off an attacker based on how they come at you,” she starts, getting right down to business. “It’s safe to assume that you’ll likely be dealing with someone larger than you, so rather than thinking about overpowering or outrunning an opponent, think about how to incapacitate them, right?”
“Okay?” I say tentatively. I don’t see how I’m going to incapacitate anybody—especially if they’re bigger than me. But she’s right. Killian doesn’t have many female enemies, as far as I’m aware, and I’m considerably smaller than most men.
“That means your greatest asset will be staying on your guard and being ready for them at all times. If they can’t catch you by surprise, you’re already one step ahead.”
“I think that was my biggest mistake when I was taken. I was so distracted about being late, I literally walked right into the guy.”
Natasha nods, her silver eyes flashing. “That’s a good way to throw you off-balance. Create a collision that will make you feel responsible. Let’s talk about how to handle it if someone comes at you from the front.”
Natasha walks me through several easy steps that use leverage to break a grip on my arms. She demonstrates on me, then has me mirror the movement on her until it feels natural.
“Good,” she says when I manage to break her grip after she reaches for me at full speed.
I can tell she’s taking it easy on me, only grabbing my arms lightly each time. “Won’t it be harder if they’re stronger though?” I ask nervously, thinking about the size of the man who grabbed me. His bruising grip on my arms.
Natasha shrugs. “It might not feel as good when you break the hold. You’ll probably get a few bruises out of it. But it will be just as effective. If you’d feel better about it, I’m sure Killian or Lance would practice with you until you’re confident.”
“No, I trust you,” I say. Because, while I’m sure she’s right, I don’t know that I can handle wrestling with Lance. And Killian has enough on his mind right now. “Teach me more?” I ask, already feeling more comfortable about the idea of going out.
Natasha works with me for well over an hour, showing me various holds and how to break out of them, which areas to target in order to incapacitate an aggressor, and what moves will buy me the most time to escape. She has me practice on her time and again, and I’m stunned by how easily she blocks my attacks, allowing me to try the motion without actually hurting her.
By the end of our workout, I’m out of breath and covered in a thin layer of sweat. Meanwhile, she looks like she’s only getting started.
“How do you know so much about self-defense?” I ask as I mop my face and snatch up my water bottle.
“My father insisted that Tatiana and I at least learn the basics. He believed we should be just as strong as the men around us. It would help us survive the world we were born into. He also raised me to be an asset to the family, not a weakness. He believed power and independence were the most precious gifts he could pass to us.”
A flash of sadness crosses Natasha’s delicate features, and for a moment, I can see the intense pain that losing her father caused. Then her chin juts stubbornly forward, and her gray eyes flash with defiance. I can almost hear her thoughts. She won’t let it break her. Because her father raised her to be strong. And she’s not about to disappoint him now.
My heart twinges, and in this moment, I can understand why my brother would go to such lengths for Natasha. I can see why Killian fell so hard for the bold, intelligent woman. She’s brave and resilient and determined to hold her own in this world. I find her inspiring. And also incredibly relatable, because she’s not just some delicate flower sitting by and letting life happen around her. She’s doing what she can with the tools she was given—just like I want to.
“I think my father and Killian want the same for me, but in a different way—that’s why Killian’s putting me through nursing school, so I can get out of this life completely.”
Natasha nods, her full lips pulling into a beautiful smile. “Your brother really loves you. And he wants great things for you and your future. I feel guilty admitting how much I like having you here. Because while Killian might want you to spread your wings and find a better path, I don’t think I trust anyone to look after him like you have.”
I laugh. “When it comes down to it, I don’t know that I’ll ever be able to just walk away. I love the idea of working in a hospital, but I don’t think I’d trust anyone else with my brother either. He’s too reckless.”
Natasha laughs as well, the sound soft and warm, and I get the feeling that my sister-in-law and I might actually become good friends. I already liked her a lot. But this experience has brought us a lot closer. And I feel like I understand her so much better than I did before.
“You can say that again. I’ve never met someone so willing to spit in death’s face.”
I could almost say the same. Although, in that regard, I think Lance just might have my brother beat. It terrifies me how willing he is to lay down his life—especially to protect Killian. And when the two are together, it’s a wonder that they both keep coming home alive.