Chapter 8 #2
Because he didn't like being called out, especially by a woman who should be terrified of him instead of trying to reassure him, he tightened his grip further, not enjoying causing her pain, and yet at the same time, needing to punish her for seemingly caring, for being stronger than he’d ever been.
“You're the one who’s hiding, Makayla. Making up stories to try to comfort yourself and pretend you have a way out.”
Again, the woman didn't do anything but offer him a smile of her own. A genuine one where his was as fake as it was possible to be. “I'm not hiding behind anything, Van, and I think you know that. I understand that you can't confirm or deny anything for me.”
Although she said the words, it was as clear as day from the way she looked at him that she’d already made up her mind.
Where did that leave him?
If Makayla knew the truth, she would tell the others.
While she might be able to keep the knowledge to herself, even while the other men abused her body in ways he hated to think it had already been abused, there was no way the others could.
One of them still cried nearly constantly, and even the next strongest after Makayla couldn’t come anywhere near her strength, her ability to handle the darkest horrors one person could inflict upon another.
Letting her go back in there to spread what she perceived to be comfort to the other women, and given she was a healer at heart, that’s what her instincts would drive her to do, could ruin everything he was working toward.
There was no way he was close enough to end this now, which meant that having his cover blown wouldn't just lead to his own death, but also to Prey all but losing this opportunity to bring down this ring.
Which meant he didn't have a choice.
The only way to ensure her silence was to give her what she wanted.
Abruptly releasing her, Van stalked down the hallway, needing a bit of distance between them to clear his head, but then stalking right back to stand before her, needing her closeness like it was oxygen.
“Van?”
“Don’t,” he snarled. Something about hearing his name from those plump lips of hers stirred up emotions he’d long since deadened.
His name had always been something he hated.
Who the hell called their kid after the vehicle in which they were conceived?
At least most people assumed that Van was short for Donovan, and he never corrected them.
“Well, I'm not calling you sir, or master, or whatever weird name you guys think sounds cool,” she said, amusement clear in her tone. It seemed she wasn't fazed by his fury, seemed to have no idea that he could make grown men quiver with one of his empty smiles.
Her blatant disrespect would have earned her a punishment of its own, but for some reason, it amused him. The same way her calling his smile obnoxious had made him laugh earlier, a small chuckle erupted now before he could contain it.
The answering smile she gave him reminded him of a time when he’d believed that not everyone was selfish, that there might be people in the world who put others before themselves.
A notion he’d long since given up on, but Makayla …
she convinced him there was a small percentage of the population that weren't self-serving.
“You're very handsome when you smile like that,” she said softly, a slight blush on her otherwise pale cheeks.
“Why aren't you afraid of me?” he asked.
“Well, it’s not so much like I'm not afraid of you. I'm not stupid, and I do feel the danger surrounding you, but … I can't explain it. I just feel the other parts of you, too. I'm guessing the parts you don’t want anyone else to know about.”
“You shouldn’t be able to do that,” he muttered, feeling more exposed than he had in a long time, and even though he didn't like it, a part of him loosened slightly at being seen.
“And yet I can.” Reaching out, she brushed her fingertips down his forearm.
“It’s okay, Van, you really don’t have to tell me, and I won't tell the others. If that’s what you were worried about, you could have just told me.
I can't pretend that I understand what it’s like to live like this, undercover, pretending to be someone you're not. But it’s still okay to be the real you sometimes and just be honest.”
Seemed like trying to keep it secret was a moot point anyway. Makayla had known the truth, sensed it somehow, although he had no idea how. This woman was nothing like anyone he had ever met, and he didn't know what to make of that.
Other than he didn't like it.
But that was a lie.
“You can't tell them, Makayla,” he said, seriously now.
If they weren't going to bother with the charade, then she had to know the stakes.
“I'm not in a position to do anything to protect anyone right now because of the recent actions of some others. There is nothing I can do to stop anyone from being sold. I don’t have the intel I need yet to destroy Azure.
But I will make sure that when you're sold, someone will come in after you.”
Gulping, he saw the fear in her eyes, but he saw the determination too. This woman hadn't learned a secret way to avoid being afraid. All she’d done was learn that no matter how scared you were, you still had to operate at one hundred percent, even if that fear made you want to drop out at zero.
“I won't tell them,” she said, only the tiniest hint of a wobble in her voice.
“I will make sure that you're rescued after you're sold,” he assured her, feeling almost like he was more in need of that reassurance than she was. Almost all the women got out in the end, therefore the odds were definitely in Makayla’s favor. So why did it feel like an empty promise?
“Okay,” she said with a nod. There was trust in her blue gaze, and he almost wished there wasn't.
Because the truth was, she could be one of the unlucky ones who didn't get rescued.
Who was either killed before Prey could get to them, or who disappeared deep underground in a world where secrecy was life.
And he knew that Makayla had to get that, even if she was new to this world.
She was a smart woman, and she’d already been through so much.
He wanted there to be a way to get her out before she might become lost forever, and that terrified him, because Van never felt that way about any of these women.
There was just something about her that called out to a piece of himself he would have sworn to the death no longer existed. She called out to the part of Van Huxley that would have existed if life hadn't been so cruel to him.
“I won't let you down, Van, I promise,” she said when he didn't say anything. “I won't tell them. Some of them won't be able to keep it to themselves, and I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
That was exactly why she was messing with his head. It was him she was worried about in a time when her only concern should be making it to the next second in one piece.
“Remember what I told you?” he asked as he turned his back on her, needing to pull his shield back into place.
“Umm … no. You’ve said a lot of stuff to me.”
“About surviving.”
“That I shouldn’t hesitate next time. That I do whatever I need to do to survive and worry about it later, don’t feel empathy for anyone in my way, because if I don’t act immediately, I might not get another chance.”
“Exactly. All of that. Survive, Makayla, however you have to.”
Punching in the code, he reached for her as his fingers closed around the door handle.
“Van?”
“What?”
“I'm glad I didn't slit your throat.”
As he opened the door and pushed her gently inside, slamming the door behind her, he already knew that Makayla Adair was going to ruin him.