Page 53 of Beloved Sacrifice

Chapter Nine

Several hours passed before she stopped making soft, heartbreaking noises. Marek had wiped away a few tears of his own during that time.

And he’d had time to think. And make some decisions.

It was going to be all about the timing now.

She coughed, and it was a dry sound. He released her gently and grabbed his untouched soda, sticking a fresh straw in it and giving it to her. She swallowed greedily, then passed it to him. He took a few mouthfuls himself, then set it down where she could drink it.

Rose seemed composed. Her breathing was even, her voice steady. “They say talking is cathartic.”

He crouched in front of her so he could more easily see her face. “Is it?”

“I think so.”

“I’m glad.”

She tossed her hair. Some strands of hair still clung to her wet cheeks. She swiped at them in irritation. He reached up a hand. “May I?”

She stilled. “Yes.”

He carefully peeled the strands of hair from her cheeks and tucked them behind her ears.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” she whispered. “Something I’ve never told anyone.”

Marek didn’t reply. He’d seen heartbreak and suffering, and there were millions, if not billions of people on the planet whose lives were filled with pain. But those people were numbers, statistics—a vague yet massive suffering he could do nothing about. Rose was right here, strangely elegant despite her bloody and torn clothing. Yet he could see how fragile she was, like a chipped and worn ballerina figurine trapped in a music box, battered and damaged, but still she would rise up and dance when the box was opened and music played.

There was a reason he did what he did—he knew he could help on the individual level, save one person at a time.

He would save Rose.

“I never loved Caden.”

That took him by surprise. “You didn’t?”

“No. Because he wasn’t pretending to own me, dominate me. When he collared me, he meant it. He was kinder than Elroy was. He taught me that there could be pleasure mixed in with the pain. But he still owned me.” Her voice thickened with tears. “And I could never forgive him for that. Could never forgive him for not being his brother.”

She swallowed, her throat visibly working. “Part of me hated him, but he was all I had. And now he’s gone.”

Rose stood and paced to the wall and turned. She must have moved too fast because she winced. He needed to do something about her rib before she turned the crack into a break. Marek pushed up off the step.

Rose looked past him up the stairs.

“The brother, the boy I loved? The one who died?”

Marek had a suspicion what she was about to say.

“His name was Weston.” She met Marek’s gaze. “Wes.”

He froze, then turned to look at the top of the steps.

“And,” she said, “he’s not dead.”

Weston curled his hands into fists. The urge to put his fist through a wall was making the muscles of his biceps twitch. He’d lost half a day. He couldn’t afford to lose time like that.

Marek Lee was a complication he didn’t have time for.

And he’d had to leave Rose down there with him. Damn it.

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