Page 14 of Rivals & Revenge

When I brought them home, I removed all traces of blood and dirt, caring for them the same as she would if she had been able. Then placed them on the nightstand near her bed, hoping she would seethem when she woke. Hoping that rescuing her knives would build a modicum of goodwill between us.

Reaching across her sleeping body, I plucked one of the knives from the table, running my finger over the curve of the blade, inspecting it one last time.

Her hands were limp, the muscle relaxer at work, as I lifted her hand, slipping her finger through the finger ring and curving her hand around the handle.

The monitor showed a marked decrease in both blood pressure and heart rate. Even unconscious, her body knew the feeling of cold steel in her hand, and it comforted her.

I pulled the blanket up, resting the hem just under her chin. “I know you don’t believe me, but you really are safe here, Tierney.” I murmured.

Not one for long goodbyes, I strode from the room without another glance at my sleeping rival. It was time for the lads’ dinner, and I knew they would be scratching at her door if I stayed there much longer.

Chapter 9

TIERNEY

The room was dark when I awoke; the curtains cinched tightly, not permitting even the thinnest sliver of moonlight.

To my surprise, my head felt clearer than it had the last time I had woken. I hadn’t believed Rossdale when he said the drugs were only temporary. Then again, who could blame me?

Rolling my head to the side, a stray hair fell across my face. I lifted my hand to swipe it away, only then registering the familiar weight of the knife in my hand. The bands of anxiety that had constricted my heart since the moment Rossdale found me in that grove loosened, my breath coming easier.

Realizing my arms were free, I wiggled my toes, nearly jumping off the bed when my entire foot moved with little effort.

“Son of a bitch. He wasn’t lying.” I murmured, a slow smile breakingacross my face.

My eyes dropped to the Karambit in my hand.

Every brush of my finger over the smooth steel cleared away a layer of fog from my mind. Until, after maybe a dozen passes or so, a decision had been made; I needed to leave.

Though my mind was clear, my body was sore from head to toe, like someone tossed me through a wood chipper and then doused me in salt water. Even so, I didn’t trust that he wouldn’t drug me again.

I couldn’t afford to be naïve, not when it came to him. He hadn’t killed me yet. That didn’t mean he didn’t have plans for me. Ahren Rossdale certainly hadn’t made a name for himself by saving lives and if even half the rumors were true, I wouldn’t be the first rival he took out.

In hindsight, maybe taunting him with roses hadn’t been my smartest idea.

Pulling back the blanket, my breath caught in my throat. Wrong. Everything was wrong. “That’s not mine,” I breathed.

Clutching the blanket back to my chest, my fingers dug in like it was the only thing tethering me to reality. My lungs burned as I forced air in and out, working to slow my racing heart.

I snapped my eyes shut and allowed my awareness to slip over every inch of my skin, bile rising in my throat at the mere thought of what I might find there.

My nipples brushed against the soft fabric of the shirt I was wearing, not my shirt, most likely his. Warm plush caressed my obviously bare legs, disconcerting despite feeling like I was covered by dozens of teddy bears.

A strangled sob burst from my throat as I shifted, my thighs pressing together—bare skin against bare skin. My stomach dropped. My skin crawled, the weight of the unknown pressing against it like unseen hands.

I gripped the blanket tighter, as if I could shrink myself into the fabric, as if I could take back whatever had been taken from me. But my body felt foreign, invaded by something I couldn’t name. My mind screamed at me to remember—anything—but the silence was louder than the rushing in my ears.

I searched my mind for the last thing I remembered, clawing through the haze like a drowning woman reaching for the surface. Nothing. Just empty space where my memories should be.

My fists clenched, tightening around the knife I still held, its presence no longer comforting. Instead, it mocked me, proving my safety was only an illusion. The room blurred, tilting like a dream I wasn’t a part of.

“Breathe, Tierney. Fucking. Breathe.” I murmured, hoping to force myself into work mode.

“Move fast. Think slow. Move fast. Think slow.” I repeated the mantra that had gotten my ass through some tough situations.

I peeled back the blanket, goosebumps spreading across my heated skin as it met the frigid air. “Dammit!” I swore, “is this a bedroom or a refrigerator?”

I quickly gained my feet, releasing a captive breath when my muscles only shook briefly before stiffening like good soldiers falling into place, ready to carry my weight.

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