Page 70 of The Delta's Rogue
Our gazes lock in the reflection as she drops the last section of my hair. It falls to the middle of my chest, not quite long enough to cover my breasts and hide my dark nipples that peak against my will from the cool air of the room. The dark strands—thick and perfectly sleek, with the hint of a curl at the ends—frame my face.
Brenna backs away, the brush in her hand. “I can give you something to help you sleep, if you’d like.”
I shake my head. I don’t want peace.
“Your eyes will swell if you cry all night,” she warns. “Amara won’t like that.”
As if I care what thatputawants or likes. As if my every decision relies on that bitch’s approval.
My lip curls, and I growl, jumping to my feet and rounding on Brenna, arms outstretched and ready to wrap around her throat.
Pain shoots through my body, carried to my extremities by the blood pumping through my veins, before I can take a step towards her. I’m frozen with my arms straight in front of me, reaching for Brenna.
She trembles, eyes wide, but she stands tall, the blood-filled vial clutched in her fist and suspended in the air between us like a warning. She backs up towards the door, keeping me in her sights the entire time.
I fight and resist as hard as I can to break her hold on me. My body vibrates with the effort, a roar of frustration building within me the longer I’m stuck in this pose. The pain increases, spreading through me like a poisoned lie, and more tears stream from my unblinking eyes.
“Get on the bed,” she commands, her voice low and shaking but determined.
I glare at her through my tear-filled eyes as I move to the bed against my will, draw the comforter back, and climb onto the plush mattress. I slip beneath the blanket and cover myself. Everything burns as she manipulates my body. The roar building within me morphs into a sob, but I can release neither, prevented from doing so by Brenna’s control over me.
She presses her thumb into the pad, never letting her eyes leave my body. The door unlocks and swings open, and she leaves in a hurry, slamming it shut behind her. Once the locks click into place, she relinquishes the magical hold.
I collapse against the pillows, curling in on myself as the pain subsides. The burning is gone, but I shiver violently, teeth chattering unnaturally as sobs escape me in painful, emotional heaves of my chest and shoulders. I clutch the blankets in my fists and tuck them around my convulsing, traumatized, vulnerable body as I cry myself to sleep.
Wesley pulls me tomy feet, his words bolstering me. There’s a confidence in his tone and in his gait as we walk through the forest that leaches into me, that boosts my optimism and gives me a renewed hope—a hope that dwindled over the years with Sarina’s absence.
“What all have you already done to find her?” he asks.
I pick up my pace to walk by his side. “Dad helped me,” I admit. “We contacted packs all over the country and overseas, used his connections in human law enforcement and government agencies, and even bribed people a few times.”
From the corner of my eye, I see his body tense and his jaw tick, but he doesn’t comment on our dad’s willingness to help me when he refused to use the same tactics to get Haven safely to our pack sixteen years ago.
“We asked the king for help too,” I continue, steering the conversation away from our dad. Wesley will need to talk with him eventually, but their lingering animosity can’t be our focus at the moment. “All his leads were dead ends, though. Which makes sense now. If she was working for him on a top-secret mission, he wouldn’t want to reveal her location. Hell, he probably drove us further away from her intentionally.” I shake my head, and I can’t help but chuckle about it. “That dickhead.”
Wesley shakes his head as well. “I can’t get over the fact that he knew her when he questioned her because we thought they were suspicious.”
“Youthought they were suspicious,” I correct. “I trusted them. Her.”
His eyes slide to me, and a smirk spreads across his face. “I’m sure you did.”
I shove him, and he bumps into a tree trunk, laughing too hard to stop his momentum.
I roll my eyes and sigh. “You’ve been spending too much time with Reid.”
“He’s my beta.”
“He’s a dickhead too.”
He shrugs one shoulder. “You’re not wrong there.” His steps move in the opposite direction of the packhouse, heading around the lake towards the home he built for Haven as a wedding gift. “Everyone is waiting for us at my house,” he says before I can ask why we’re going there. “We felt it best that Dominic and the others stay hidden while we’re helping them.”
“The others?”
“The other rogues.Nomads.” He corrects himself before I can. “Sarina’s friends who were here before. They’re staying at our house tonight.”
“And tomorrow?” I ask.
We climb the porch stairs of his and Haven’s massive, custom-built log cabin nestled within the thickest part of the Crescent Lake forest.
