Page 124 of The Delta's Rogue
“I said ‘lemon’,” she repeats. Her voice is softer this time but filled with the same torment and brokenness. “It’s supposed to beover. That’s what ‘lemon’ means.”
I drop my chin and run my hand down my face as I’m filled with even more self-loathing for what I’m asking—forcing—her to do.
I’m no better than the sick fucks who run this operation.
“I know, Baby Girl. I know.” I sigh and lower my nose to the top of her head, so my lips brush across her silky hair as I speak. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t have to. I would much rather carry you out of here in my arms, with the blood of everyone who hurt you staining my hands, but I can’t. Not yet. Not until we have a team and plan in place.”
She tips her face up to me, and the barest flicker of her old fire ignites in her eyes at the promise of spilled blood. It’s gone before I can stoke it into something larger, but it gives me hope that with time, support, and love, she will find pieces of herself again.
“I promise I will take the chains off once we’re in the car,” I repeat. “I promise.”
“You promise?”
“Te lo prometo.”
Her body trembles against mine, the pain and fear bone deep and unshakeable. But she backs away a step and holds her arms in front of her, crossing them at the wrists.
I reach for the chain, keeping my eyes on Sarina. Brenna passes gloves to me first, then gives me the chain once they’re slipped onto my hands.
“Remember, anything I say or do is just an act.” I loop the chain around Sarina’s wrists, and she doesn’t even flinch when the metal brushes her skin. “We’re just pretending.”
I search for clasps or loops on her cuffs to slide the links through, but the metal merges with the shackles, connecting to them with magic.
“We’ve pretended before,” Sarina murmurs as she watches me.
“No,” I insist, and her gaze snaps to my face. “It was never pretend before. It was always real. Everything I said, everything I did, every moment we’ve ever shared—all of it wasreal.”
She lowers her arms. The chain slides across my palm, and I close my hand around it as she turns away from me.
She doesn’t respond to my declaration. Her shoulders roll backwards as she takes deep, steady breaths to prepare herself, to fall into her role as my new toy.
“I’m ready.” Sarina dips her chin to the floor and keeps her eyes lowered.
Brenna stares at her, guilt and indecision flashing through her eyes. Her lips pinch together, and she takes a deep breath before switching her attention to me.
“Here.” She holds something out to me between her fingertips. “I hate to do this right now, when we’re already taking so many risks, but I can’t think of any other way to make sure you get this.”
Her hand and voice tremble. Where she was collected and helpful before, she’s now filled with an urgent desperation. Her eyes plead with me, wisps of hope floating within the gloom.
She shoves the item closer, and the light catches on a reddish gemstone set within a band of gold. “You can use this to find me later. If you find me, you find all of us.”
I take the ring from her and continue to stare at it, twisting it in different directions and watching as the shades of red dance in the light like flickering flames of a bonfire.
I shake my head. “I don’t know when—”
“It doesn’t matter when,” she insists, a matching flame roaring to life in her soul, her sudden passion drawing my focus back to her face. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes. Just find me and end them. End them all.” The brief fire fades, melting back into quiet desperation. “Please,” she whispers, her hands pressing into her stomach.
I hold her gaze and hand her the key for the door after I pocket her ring.
“I’ll hide the bloodstains and your cut so Amara doesn’t notice them,” she says, leading us from the room.
We follow her through the halls adorned with disgusting elegance. With each step we take further away from the room, I slip more into my façade. I adopt a swagger and paint a satisfied, smug half-smile on my lips. I wrap the chain around my knuckles twice, pulling it taut to keep Sarina right on my heels.
To them, it will look like I’m keeping her on a short leash and lording my ownership over her. In reality, I’m keeping her within arm’s reach in case the worst happens—in case they realize I’m a fraud trying to infiltrate their operation to take them down and save all the girls they’ve hurt.
My act is slimy. Oily. It wraps around me, staining my soul with revolting smudges, and leaves me disgusted that I’ve painted myself in the same light as the ones running this operation.
Sarina’s trembling never stops. The tremors deepen, ingraining themselves into her posture and muscles. Her teeth chatter, and small whimpers slip through her clenched lips. It adds to our act, to the realism of it all, but it hurts my soul and angers my lycan.
