Page 102 of Captive Souls

“Daisy!” I yelled, or I tried to project my voice as loud as possible, cold dread clutching at my windpipe. My voice was scratchy and hoarse.

I watched his jaw harden and fury paint his face. “She’s alive,” he told me quickly. “But they have her.”

“Then you go get her,” I ordered through gritted teeth.

“Petal,” Knox murmured.

My gaze darted to him, my heart skipping a beat again, seeing that he was alive and there. My joy held fast, but it didn’t win in the battle over my concern for my sister. Who was currently completely unprotected. “Don’tPetalme,” I snapped. “You’re here to presumably kill his men—”

“Not presumably,” he interrupted, his words harsh as a lashing.

I recoiled at how … unstable Knox was. Upon first glance, he had seemed placid, in control. But I could feel the fury radiating off him. See the way he held his limbs, the tic in his jaw, hear theferal edge to his tone, no longer smooth like a honed blade but serrated, and sharp enough to do damage, to shred.

“Okay, you’re here to kill them in a horrible, painful way,” I relented, not showing my unease at his raw emotions. “But that means that Stone will eventually get word of that and Daisy...” I sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as the simple motion sent spears of pain through my injured ribs.

Seeing my discomfort, Knox’s hands flexed as he lifted them toward my ribs, curling and unfurling them into fists as he set them there for a second before ever so soothingly pulling up my shirt to expose the mottling of redness.

He didn’t make a sound. He didn’t need to. His wrath was a physical thing, curling around my injuries, featherlight across my skin.

I yanked my shirt down. We didn’t have time for this. I didn’t look at Knox. “You need to go get her,” I repeated to Joey. “Since I’m guessing your presence means you do actually love her and are against Stone using her life as a bargaining chip.”

“Nothing is going to happen to Daisy,” he vowed, suddenly seeming older and more badass than he had during our previous meetings. Him being a badass in front of Knox was akin to a puppy growling in front of a roaring bear, but I got the energy.

He loved her.

That was good.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” I ground out, pain making my voice catch. I’d used up a lot of my strength doing so much yelling. “You’re going to get her.”

Knox’s arms tightened around me, despite seeing the pain likely on my face, feeling it in the tension of my body. I knew he needed to feel me, grip onto me like I washisport in the storm.

“Enough, Piper,” he barked, his control fraying. “We’ll take care of Daisy later.”

I gave him a cold look. “No, you’ll send Joey to doit now.”

Knox searched my face. He was the man who knew me better than anyone else, who understood me. And I understood him. He wanted Joey there to presumably look after me while he tortured and killed the men.

He wanted to shield me from whatever he was going to unleash on them for marking me. And he was determined to get his way. He was used to that. No one challenged him. Especially not when rage was simmering in his bloodstream, seeping from him. Not now when he was a paladin with a singular goal: vengeance.

No one, that was, except me.

I watched him battle, his jaw twitching from the force he was exerting to keep himself locked down. I hadn’t looked in the mirror, but I guessed I looked bad.

“Outside,” he roared the command so brutally, it made me jump. Granted, one was bound to be a little jumpy after being kidnapped—for real this time, not whatever Knox had done to me—almost raped, beaten and handcuffed to a sink.

I didn’t look to see if Joey obeyed his command, I couldn’t take my eyes from Knox. I’d truly believed he was dead earlier, so I was afraid he was some kind of mirage. The attachment I felt to this man was nothing short of unhealthy. I didn’t want to breathe air where he didn’t exist. I didn’t want him out of my sight.

I guessed the feeling was mutual.

I heard the door shut, relief racing through me to know Joey had left.

“No one is allowed to mark you but me.” Knox’s voice was low, desperate as he ghosted his hands over every throbbing mark on my face, picking up my hands as if they were made of tissue paper before tracing the red, raw, angry marks from the handcuffs.

“The fact that I left you unprotected so they could do this…” He looked down at my wrists, rage strangling his words.

“This is not your fault,” I told him gently.

His eyes once again roved over the throbbing marks on my face, as if he was concreting them in his memory, for him to revisit when he wanted to engage in emotional self-flagellation.

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