Chapter 10 #2
The hand around her neck tightened. Her throat had already been sore from Blade’s hands wrapped around it, but she’d been able to somewhat ignore it along with all the other aches and pains littering her body because she’d been so scared about this.
Coming here and being tortured all over again.
Should have run when she had the chance, risked it at least. Maybe she wouldn't have gotten away, but she might have Blade angry enough to kill her outright.
No.
Wouldn't have happened.
They wanted her intel.
Which meant this man—she hadn't gotten a good look at him as he flew down the mansion steps toward her because she hadn't been expecting a welcome quite like this one—wasn't going to kill her now.
Just torture her some more.
Maybe she deserved it after all the lives she’d destroyed.
How could one drug, intended to save lives and make the world a better place, end up causing this much damage and death?
Seconds seemed like an eternity.
A growl rumbled through the chest of the man pinning her between the car and his huge body. When he leaned in close, she got a glimpse of his eyes through the light spilling out of the windows and open front door. Violet eyes. Dragon.
His nostrils flared, and she didn't know what he was scenting, but whatever it was seemed to enrage him further.
How long had it been since he grabbed her? Not even long enough for her to struggle to draw in air yet, although that was coming within the next couple of seconds. Whitney wanted to embrace that darkness, find it and cling to it, and refuse to let them drag her back.
Whatever lay beyond this life had to be better than the one she’d been living.
“What the hell?” Blade bellowed from beside them, and Whitney assumed he was yelling at her for some reason.
After all, why would he be yelling at his friend and teammate?
He’d brought her here, he’d lied to her, said that his team believed him, and since someone else had corroborated her story, she knew that Blade now believed her. He had to have known one of his friends would pounce on her the second she got out of the car.
Didn't even make it out of the car before Dragon had her.
Then all of a sudden, Dragon was … gone.
Blade’s body must have collided with the other man because now they were both on the ground, wrestling, swinging fists at one another, fighting.
Fighting?
Why?
Over her?
Legs shaking too badly to hold her up any longer, Whitney sank to the ground, pressing her back against the side of the car, and pulling her knees to her chest, attempting to make herself as small a target as possible.
She had no idea what was going on, but her heart hammered so hard in her chest it hurt.
Other people spilled out the front door, walking toward them, shouts and exclamations filling the air, but she was having a hard time differentiating the words. They all melded into one, and really, it didn't matter what they were saying anyway.
Maybe Blade had been led into a trap, too, maybe the others didn't believe him. Maybe they were going to kill him, too.
All because of her.
People always died because of her.
Someone was close to her, she didn't know who, didn't care, but she kept her gaze locked on the two fighting men as she called out, “Please don’t hurt him.”
They wouldn't listen, but she had to try. Blade had saved her life, and now he was going to lose his, and it was all her fault.
“Steel, break them up, they’re being ridiculous,” a female voice called out.
There was a woman here?
She hadn't known that. Blade might have asked her questions about herself, encouraged her to talk on their journey here, but he’d been tight-lipped about his team and what she’d find when she got there.
“They’re fine, they’re just fighting for the honor of their women,” a voice—she assumed Steel’s—replied.
Only that made no sense. Fighting for the honor of their women? She didn't know who Dragon’s supposed woman was, and she didn't know if Blade had a wife or girlfriend, but she did know he wasn't fighting for her.
Or was he?
“I can't believe three of you have now fallen,” someone else muttered.
She didn't care about who had fallen for whom, all she cared about was that Dragon was going to kill Blade, and it was all because of her. Why did death always follow her wherever she went?
“Please,” she whispered, her voice ragged, the word felt like it was being torn from her aching throat.
“Stop them, Steel, they’re scaring her,” the woman said again.
Steel must have been the one who sighed, because she saw another man approach the wrestling pair right as someone else knelt in front of her.
Close enough to touch her, but thankfully, they refrained.
Right now, she was wound so tight that the smallest thing, the smallest touch, might cause her to snap.
To break.
“Hey, it’s going to be all right,” a woman—a different one—said gently, and Whitney blinked because she recognized the voice, and tore her gaze away from the fight.
“Cassandra Charleston?” she murmured as she saw the familiar face.
This was the woman she’d linked to Prey Security and decided would be the perfect one to deliver her message to.
The woman wasn't a Prey employee, and she wasn't married to or involved with a Prey employee, so Whitney had guessed that the woman wouldn't just kill her or abduct her to take in for interrogation.
She hadn't wanted to be caught, she just hadn't wanted anyone else to suffer or die.
“It’s going to be all right,” Cassandra repeated, and Whitney so badly wanted to believe that.
“Break it up, children,” Steel called out, and she looked over to see that the man with the enhanced strength had physically grabbed hold of both Blade and Dragon and dragged them apart, although both men were still trying to swing at one another. “A little help?”
Two of the other men moved to hold Dragon. She wasn't sure which without seeing their faces properly, and Steel and the other man held onto Blade. She could see blood dripping from his nose and a cut under his eye, and her heart clenched as she whimpered.
“It’s okay,” Cassandra whispered, giving her knee a gentle squeeze before standing and moving to plant herself right in front of Dragon.
Whitney almost yelled a warning, not wanting the huge man to attack the small woman the same way he had her, but something stopped the words from escaping.
Cassandra approached with confidence, and instead of cowering, lifted a hand and palmed Dragon’s cheek.
The huge man was still breathing heavily, but he softened somehow at the light touch.
“You scared her,” Cassandra said, not a hint or a tremor of timidity in her tone.
“She smells of explosives,” he snarled, and Whitney realized he must still be able to scent it on her days later, after she’d showered, even over the blood she’d shed when Blade played with his knife on her skin.
All eyes seemed to turn to her, and she was too afraid to even try to figure out the energy pouring off them. Instead, she just whimpered, pressed her face to her knees, and tried to make herself smaller. If she could make herself small enough to disappear, she’d do it in a heartbeat.
“Get off me,” Blade snarled.
“Not if you're going to go after him again,” Steel said.
“Children indeed,” another voice muttered, making Blade growl.
“He put his hands around her neck, Thunder,” Blade snapped.
“He’s not going to do it again,” Cassandra said like she knew that for a fact, however Whitney was not convinced.
“No, Dragon, at least give her a chance to explain herself. You know Blade got confirmation that everything she told him was true, which means she was just a baby manipulated by a man old enough to be her father. He erased her entire identity so he could own her, treat her like a possession instead of a real person. We are not going to do that.”
That the woman she had approached, put in danger by doing so, seemed to be on her side confused the life out of her.
“Cassandra is right,” the other woman piped up, and now that she wasn't afraid Dragon was going to kill Blade, she could place the voice as belonging to Dr. Gardner’s sister Rose.
Which made sense, she guessed, since she knew about Rose winding up with Delta Team, and how they’d tried to lure her brother into a trap.
The woman also seemed confident with the guys, and she’d spoken to Steel specifically.
Was there a reason for that, or was it just because Steel had been the leader of the team?
“Would you let go of me?” Blade growled, and they must have because a moment later she felt him kneel before her. “Look at me, darlin’.”
No way was she lifting her head.
She wanted to squeeze her eyes closed and pretend that could make all of this go away.
“Please, Whitney,” he coaxed, and his hand nudged between her face and her knees, his thumb and forefinger grasping her chin as he firmly but gently tilted her head up.
“You're hurt,” she whimpered, getting a close-up look at the damage.
Something in his dark eyes softened. “I'm fine. Are you?”
As he asked, the fingers of his other hand stroked gently across her neck. It hurt, sure, but she was pretty positive it was the least of her worries right now, so she just nodded.
“How about we go inside, and you can tell us why you smell like explosives.”
Blade said the words softly, almost phrased like a question, but she knew they weren't. It was an order. And as she glanced around at the five other men and two women gathered behind him, she knew it was one she had no choice but to follow.
Even if it led to her death.