Page 71 of Reaper & Ruin
I hated that I couldn’t work it out.“Why didn’t you just kill us the last few months? Or just kill me?”My words came out softer than I intended.“That’s what you were hired for, and I know you always finish your jobs.”
Danika didn’t react at first. Her profile remained impassive, her sharp jawline catching the dim light from the dashboard. She was just staring at her black painted nails like they were far more interesting than me.
“Hello?”I pressed, shifting in my seat.“Did you lose your trigger finger, or was there a sale on mercy that I missed?”
Finally, her lips curved into the faintest smirk, though her gaze stayed locked on the road.“You’re exhausting,”she muttered.“You were nice and quiet when you were dead.”
“Yeah, I was great when I was dead,”I shot back.“Now, are you going to answer me, or do I have to keep talking until you snap? We both know I can annoy you endlessly.”
Her smirk faded, and she exhaled a slow breath.“You’re right. You are annoying.”She reached a hand into her jacket.“I also don’t owe you an explanation. If you can’t figure out why I would need a few months to plan your death, then I guess you’re not very smart.”
“You wanted to make a spectacle out of it?”I presumed.
She laughed as she yanked her hand free, slamming a needle into my arm before I could stop her.“Exactly. I had to plan the perfect game. The only trouble was, there was no perfect game. So I’ve stopped trying. I’m just going to have fun and see where we end up.”
I wretched myself backwards, but it wasn’t fast enough. Whatever shit she’d stabbed into me was already coursing through my veins.
“You can go to sleep for a while and dream about how you left me.”She cooed.“You can have nightmares about the fact that you abandoned someone who loved you and let her think you were dead. Then we can get to the fun part of our game, and we’ll see how things turn out for you.”She yanked open the car door, slamming it shut a second later as my world blurred around the edges.
I hadn’t left her. Not the way she thought. But my escape hadn’t been planned. It had been a once in a lifetime situation, and I… I thought about myself first. Then Silver and the others. And sure, I had wanted Danika with me. A part of me hated leaving her behind and never going back. But I had no choice.
It was run or stay trapped.
Leave her, or lose myself.
I’d just chosen myself.
Her words triggered something in me, and as I collapsed back in my seat, I couldn’t stop things from boiling to the surface. My world went dark, and my mind went back a few years, recalling memory after memory of things I didn’t want to think of again.
The ropes bit into my wrists, and I shifted just enough to relieve the ache in my shoulders. My toes barely brushed the concrete floor, enough to keep me from dangling completely, but it didn’t help much. Every muscle screamed in protest, and the cold air prickled against my bare skin, sinking straight into my bones. I didn’t dare make a sound, though. Not even a groan. That would only make it worse.
The punishment was fair. That’s what they’d said, anyway. I’d made a mistake during training, picked an option that would’ve gotten me caught in the real world. Too bold. Too obvious. Too stupid. Mistakes like that couldn’t happen, not when lives depended on getting it right. So now I was here,hanging like a carcass in a meat locker, freezing, hungry, and too damn thirsty to think straight.
Time didn’t mean much in this place. It could’ve been hours or days since they left me here. The room was dim, lit by a single flickering bulb that hummed faintly overhead. I stared at the cracks in the concrete below, focusing on each jagged line, trying to keep my mind off the gnawing pain in my arms. My wrists burned, raw from the rope digging into them. My stomach ached, but it wasn’t just hunger. It was the weight of failure.
The door creaked open, and my heart jumped into my throat. I lifted my head, blinking against the sudden stream of light from the hallway. Footsteps followed, echoing in the small space. I braced myself, every muscle locking tight, expecting another punishment. A slap, a whip, maybe a few harsh words to remind me of my place.
Instead, it was Danika.
She slipped inside, her movements quiet, like a shadow. Her hair was tied back in a braid, and her too-big jacket hung loosely over her thin frame. She closed the door behind her with a soft click, then turned toward me. Her black eyes met mine, and for a second, she looked almost… human. Not the cold, calculating girl I knew, but someone softer. Someone kinder.
She put a finger to her lips, signaling for silence. I nodded weakly, my head too heavy to hold up for long. She moved closer, her footsteps barely making a sound, and reached into her jacket. When she pulled out a small plastic bottle of water, my throat tightened, and I couldn’t stop the pathetic whimper that escaped my lips.
“Quiet,” she whispered, unscrewing the cap. Her voice was soft, but there was an edge to it, a warning that I knew better than to ignore. She held the bottle to my lips, tilting it just enough for the water to trickle into my mouth.
The first sip was heaven. I swallowed greedily, the cool liquid soothing my cracked lips and dry throat. She pulled the bottle back before I could gulp down too much, and I let out a shaky breath, my shoulders sagging in relief.
“Slow down,” she murmured, glancing over her shoulder toward the door. “They’ll notice if you’re too strong when they come back.”
I nodded again, licking the last drops of water from my lips. She crouched slightly, her sharp eyes scanning my face, and then reached into her pocket. This time, she pulled out a small foil packet, tore it open, and slipped a couple of pills into her palm.
“Painkillers,” she said quietly, holding them up. “Swallow.”
I didn’t hesitate. She pressed them to my lips, and I took them into my mouth, tilting my head back as she poured another trickle of water to help me get them down. The relief was instant, not from the pills—they wouldn’t kick in for a while—but from the simple act of someone caring. Even if it was her.
“You’re brave,” she whispered, stepping back and tucking the water bottle into her jacket. “Don’t forget that.”
Brave? I didn’t feel brave. I felt small. Weak. Pathetic. But her words still carried weight, and I held onto them like a lifeline. She reached out, her fingers brushing against the rope around my wrist for a fleeting moment, and I wondered if she might cut me loose. But then she pulled back, her gaze hardening.
