Chapter 19 #3
But the air outside the glass case was strangely charged. Rhett’s eyes were flinty, studying Cliff.
“I kinda think you’re full of shit, Everett.”
Cliff blinked boredly. “That’s rich coming from you.”
“You didn’t see him at the outpost,” Rhett said, glancing toward Eros.
The older man didn’t look particularly impressed by anything Rhett had to say, but then again, it seemed very little excited him.
Rhett pointed at Cliff. “Just a couple of months ago, you fought tooth and nail to get her out of the Pit. Now you’re the captain of team ‘yay, Daddy!’ Why the change of heart? ”
The smallest flutter of hope stirred in my chest, though I hated that it was coming from Rhett of all people. Cliff, however, gave me nothing.
Bristling, Cliff met his glare with a patronizing chuckle. “It’s not obvious? She was damn useful, and she was ours. Of course I wasn’t gonna let you take her from us.”
Rhett whistled. “Well, color me impressed. You’ve got a brain to go with that pretty head after all, huh?”
A muscle in Cliff’s jaw ticked. “Eat shit.”
Rhett sauntered toward the other end of the truck, not sparing a glance toward the three armored guards seated along the left wall. He rummaged in a container of supplies, returning with something slender clasped in his hand.
“Well, why don’t you do the honors?” He held out the object to Cliff, and I realized in horror that he was offering a rod of pure iron.
Cliff didn’t take it. “What are you talking about?”
“Mark her,” Rhett said. “It’s okay, all fairies get the same treatment in case the wing clips are clawed out.” He tapped the bottom of the thin bar, which was unremarkable apart from an embossed E set at the base.
I whipped my head toward Zia and Rowan. The shuddered, hollow look seated at the back of their gazes told me everything. Maybe I couldn’t see their marks, but these psychos had branded them, and I was about to follow suit.
Cliff folded his arms over his chest. “You expect me to damage assets to prove my loyalty?”
“Unless you’re still soft on the redhead,” Rhett said, blinking in mock innocence.
Eros observed the exchange with a thoughtful frown. I got the sense that he played people like chess pieces often and well.
“Lower your voice, Rhett. You’re not in a trailer park anymore,” Eros said coldly, barely acknowledging the way a flush crawled into Rhett’s cheeks.
Eros’ eyes slid to Cliff and hardened. “Go on, son.”
Cliff snatched the bar from Rhett. The unspoken test was overwhelming—brand me as Evercor’s asset, or deny loyalty to their cause.
As Cliff took a step closer, a whimper caught in my throat. I’d rather Rhett do it. A guard.
Not him. Not my friend.
A hand brushed my shoulder, making me flinch. It was Ben. “Get back,” he murmured in a hollow voice. “You need to stop arguing with them. More than anything, people like them just need to let their frustration out. I—I can try to convince them to take it out on me instead.”
My jaw dropped. “Ben—”
He squeezed my shoulder, beaten resignation haunting his stare. “I’m used to it.”
“But—but he won’t do it,” I whispered helplessly.
“Shouldn’t she be unconscious or something first?” Cliff asked, glancing back at his father.
My heart squeezed. He was stalling, at least.
The growing suspicion on Eros’ face made the tension in the air thicken. He rolled his eyes, voice dropping back into a snarl. “Oh, for fuck’s sake! All these stories about the blood on your hands and prowess with a rifle, but you can’t handle one little mark?”
“You know, maybe it is asking too much, too soon,” Rhett said smoothly.
“I’ll do it for you. All you have to do is watch.
” He pried the iron bar back from Cliff and closed the distance to the glass case.
His smile sharpened when I clapped a hand over my mouth.
“Besides, I never got my due justice after you froze me solid, you little bitch,” he said, softer, meant for my ears.
Ben snapped me out of my stunned stupor, urging me to the corner. Running and cowering made no difference, but basic survival was a master that I could not refuse.
I pressed myself against the glass as the lid came off. I heard Zia cry out, saw her from the corner of my eye as she tried to reach me, but Rowan held her back.
“Cliff!” I weeped. “Cliff, please don’t let him do this!”
I caught Cliff’s gaze, and he didn’t look away this time.
As he stared, I was forced to divide my attention between him and Rhett’s hand.
I pushed myself out of the corner and tried to take flight, but the attempt was in vain.
Rhett’s fingers snapped forward, shoving Ben out of the way and catching me by the leg.
My shrieks and struggles petered out at the mercy of his grip.
Oh stars, it hurt—it already hurt so much, and he hadn’t even pressed the metal to my skin.
“Don’t!” Cliff choked out—a strangled, broken shout. The truck went silent, every gaze snapping onto him. “Don’t touch her.”
Even I struggled to comprehend what I’d heard. Had he really snapped, defended me?
The triumphant sneer forming on Rhett’s lips choked off into a startled noise as a gun clicked against his shoulder.
In the same moment Cliff had opened his mouth, one of the armored guards leapt out of his seat, his weapon turned onto Rhett.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Rhett’s bulging gaze darted over his shoulder. Incredulity morphed into rage. “Stand down, now.”
The guard said nothing, heavy breathing muffled behind the reflective visor at the front of his helmet.
This was the one who’d been staring at me before, something I wasn’t sure boded well for us.
His body was coiled with tension, shoulders rising and falling while his grip on the semi-automatic weapon pressed to Rhett’s shoulder didn’t shift.
“Do you hear me, fuckwad?” Rhett shouted.
“Sit the fuck down,” Eros growled at the guard, all parental charm absent in the cold command, “unless you want to be paste on the highway.”
Voices overlapped, the remaining two guards scrambling to their feet, but this rogue guard was quicker.
With a guttural shout and a single, brutal blow, he rammed the side of his gun to Rhett’s skull.
The crushing pressure on my body eased as Rhett collapsed onto the floor of the truck with a reverberant thump.
The rogue guard knelt over him, fist balled. My view was partially obscured from my vantage point, but I felt the impact of each vicious blow he rained down on the former hunter. Each pummeling impact made the glass case shiver.
When the guard stood again, Rhett lay unmoving on the floor, sprawled out on his back, perhaps unconscious or lost to pain.
Still clutching my throbbing leg, I exchanged wide-eyed looks with Zia and Ben as the armored guard faced our case—not the siren below, but us, I was sure of it. Was he looking for the pleasure of hurting us himself? Was this a mutiny for a greater payout?
“Get on the ground!”
“Drop the weapon!”
It was a cacophony of voices as Eros and the rest of his men rounded on the traitor in their midst. Everyone was scrambling for a weapon, for a proper vantage point on the traitor. Everyone but Cliff, who was only looking at me with wide eyes that shone wetly.
The guard didn’t spare a single, troubled glance at the three guns pointed at him. He reached up, a gloved hand finding the release at the back of his neck. With a faint hiss, the helmet opened, and he tore it off, letting it drop to the truck floor with a heavy clatter.
Time stood still as I met his gaze, unable to think.
Unable to understand what I was seeing.
Denial clogged my throat even as my eyes raked over the blue eyes that had once crinkled with laughter, the strong, reassuring line of his jaw peppered with silvery scruff, the tawny blond hair that used to hang loosely to his chin, now cropped short in an utterly human style.
Human like the rest of him.
He was older, weathered, and wide-eyed with a sort of desperation I’d never seen on him, but I knew this face like I knew my own heart. The face I had mourned time and again for ten years.
My father.