Page 8 of Burn Like An Angel

“Me?” Langley’s dark brows knit into a frown. “Pretty sure she’s the one who needs protection from you, last time I checked.”

“And why exactly is her welfare your business in the first place?”

Groaning as I sit upright, I massage my aching throat. “Stop. Both of you.”

Two pairs of eyes swing to me. Langley’s track over me—cataloguing the various injuries, bruises and bloodstains like he’s seeing them for the first time. Last time we spoke was before Noah’s attack and our trip to the Z wing.

“I heard you were taken,” he grinds out. “What the hell did they do to you?”

“No time.” I look over to Xander’s impassive expression. “Where are Lennox and Raine?”

“Safely inside.”

“Then… why did you come back?”

His almost-black eyes make my skin tighten and prickle with awareness. The sheer intensity steals my breath far more effectively than Tania’s attempt to choke me.

He’s staring at me like it’s obvious, but nothing about this complicated creature is ever fucking obvious. We’ve been playing an elaborate game of cat and mouse for years now, and I still can’t fathom the broken mind that lies within his skull.

“You,” he deadpans.

My windpipe closes altogether.

“I came back for you, Ripley.”

Tucking the gun into his waistband, Langley flashes Xander an odd look. He stoops low to grasp my body. I let him tug me up, too exhausted to do much more than slump into him.

“They did this to you?” Langley grinds out.

“Professor Craven.” I gasp in pain. “And… others.”

“Jesus, Rip. How did you get out?”

“With a little help.” Looking up, I find his concerned eyes scrutinising me. “What are you still doing here? Shouldn’t you be running for the hills with the rest of your team?”

“The rest…” He grips his forehead. “How did you… Shit, not now. Can you move?”

Teeth clenched, I nod once.

“Good.”

Xander takes one look at me then moves to my other side, a slim, scarred arm wrapping around my waist. “Let her go.”

Langley snorts. “You first.”

“Not happening.”

With them both holding me, neither willing to let go, we awkwardly stumble into the reception. It’s dark inside, still littered with debris and water damage from the storm.

That night feels like a million years ago, but from the failing power to the boarded windows and dirt-streaked flooring, the scattered remnants still paint a chaotic scene. The opulence has been destroyed by Mother Nature in all her almighty wrath.

Perhaps the most telling indication of that night’s fateful importance has his arm around me. The cold-hearted man with empty midnight eyes who almost left me to drown in a pool.

Xander is my nemesis. The man who vowed to break me and keep the scattered pieces for his collection. Only now he’s helping me, limping and half-dead, to safety. I must be delirious.

“I left them down here,” Xander mutters in the gloom. “Lennox is in bad shape.”

“He… We… They tortured him for hours.” I struggle to get the words out. “Water. Beatings. His h-hand…”

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