Page 20 of Dustwalker
“Don’t say that!” She stepped closer, tilting her head back to glare at him as her eyes stung with the threat of tears.
“It’s a fact.”
Without thinking, she swung her hand at him. Before her palm could make contact, one of his metal hands caught her wrist, holding it firm. A flash of terror lit up within her, freezing her heart. He was about to hit her, beat her, possibly kill her for what she’d attempted to do.
But Ronin’s expression was unchanged. “Do you have any other conditions?”
Lara yanked on her arm. He didn’t squeeze, and his grip didn’t hurt, but she couldn’t break free of it. “If…if you’re not going to look for her, the answer is no.”
“Never said I wouldn’t look. Are those all your terms?”
“You will not talk like that about her again,” she replied, trying to keep her voice even.
“I didn’t talk about her.”
“You know what I mean!”
“No, I don’t. I simply stated a fact.”
“I don’t care about your facts. She’snotdead!”
Ronin seemed to hesitate. “I will not touch you,” he said, releasing her wrist, “unless it’s necessary for your safety. I will help you look for your sister. And I will not talklike thatabout her again. You will dance for me, and I will provide all that is necessary for your survival. Are we agreed?”
Lara looked away from him, drawing her hand to her chest and rubbing her wrist. Why hadn’t he hit her in retaliation?
“Yes.” She swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. Lara had sworn to herself she would never do anything like this. For the second time, she was trading herself to a bot.
No. This is different. It…it has to be.
“Gather the items you wish to bring.” Ronin glanced at the picture again, a shadow of movement flickering across his brow. “We’ll leave as soon as you’re ready.”
That quickly? She retrieved her bag and filled it with her treasures, gently nestling them inside. She didn’t care if they were useless. They were hers. Once they were packed, she stood in front of the empty shelves, feeling numb.
Wasn’t there more? Wasn’t there anything else to her life here?
Rather than dwell on those thoughts, she stuffed her shirt and spare cloth wraps into the bag and retrieved her boots from the corner. She frowned at the sagging sole.
“We’ll repair them.” Ronin knelt in front of her and dropped his pack on the floor between his legs. He rummaged through it, pulling out a long strip of cloth, which had singe marks on it as though it had survived a fire. “Wrap this around your boot. Should hold it together for now, even if it won’t keep your foot dry.”
“Um, thanks,” she said, taking the strip from him. Sitting on her pallet, she pulled her boots on. Her feet squished into them; they were as soaked as her clothes. She wrapped the cloth around her damaged boot, tying it tightly on top. When she stood, it fit strangely, but it was better than walking around Cheyenne’s rubble-strewn streets with a bare foot.
Lastly, she moved to the lantern. She was leaving the only home she’d known since she was a little girl. Where were her tears, her heartache? The answer came to her as she extinguished the wick.
Without Tabitha, this place was nothing but another survival tool.
“Done,” she whispered.
Wordlessly, Ronin stepped outside. Lara followed, stopping just beyond the threshold. Standing on her toes, she removed the chime from its hook and put it in her bag. The lines would undoubtedly get tangled, but she couldn’t leave it behind. This was a thing she’d made with her own hands. Besides, sorting out the mess of fishing lines would give her something to do.
She felt Ronin’s eyes on her.
As soon as she closed her pack, he walked. The rain continued, though it had eased significantly, and the raindrops were making little ripples in the puddles. He seemed to lead her around the worst patches of mud, but her boots sloshed on the soggy ground nonetheless.
She couldn’t bring herself to look back at the shack.
Would it still be there, waiting, when this bot was through with her?
CHAPTER SEVEN
