Page 73 of Like a Hurricane

“Calm down,” I urge him as he rips at my clothes. “It’s not real.”

“I need to get it off you,” He pleads.

“Okay,” I still his shaking hands and take off my clothes for him, letting him guide me into the shower where he then joins me. There was nothing sexual about it, no heat or desire. His hands wash my hair twice, turning the water beneath my feet red. I could feel the rag catching in the strands but don’t open my mouth and tell him to stop. I’ll deal with him once he’s calmed down. He needed to take care of me, and I’d let him.

When my hair is washed, he picks up the soap and squirts it into his uninjured palm before he then lifts it to my cheek, washing away the blood there and the soot under my eyes. He then does the rest of my body before his eyes lift to mine and his shoulders sag in defeat. I haul him to me, wrapping my arms around him and give him my strength. His heart pounds so hard I feel it against my own chest, can see the pulse point in his neck jumping wildly but still, I hold him. I run my fingers over the wet skin of his back, press my lips to his chest, I give him my warmth and my breath to bring him back to me.

And after a few long minutes, his arms finally lift and he embraces me back, hugging me tight to him.

“Too real,” He rasps, “It looked too real.”

“Then it will work, Rett,” I assure him, “It’ll all be over soon.”

I feel him nod and after he’s washed himself off, we get dressed, heading back to the couch. I demand that he sits while I clean the blood from the floor, and then grab the small, and practically empty, first aid kit.

“I think this needs stitches,” I wince at the long, straight gash on the palm of his hand, the skin on either side of the wound raw and red, the wound itself still steadily bleeding though not nearly as profusely as before.

“It’ll be fine, princess.”

I wasn’t convinced and grab as much as I can from the box, but it wasn’t a lot. It would be enough until we can get back to town and then I’ll reassess it. There had to be a doctor here who could see to it, surely.

I place the gauze over the cut, pressing it down firmly and get him to hold it in place as I wrap a bandage around it tightly.

“Can I see them?” I ask when I’m satisfied with my work.

He looks down at the phone between us and unlocks the screen, the image before me so startling, I almost want to throw up.

Chapter Thirty-six

The image unsettles my stomach, making it hard not to throw up at the view of it.

It looks far too realistic, which in every sense was a good thing except looking at it made it all too real.

The hair at the back of Arryn’s head is matted with my blood, a puddle sitting at the back of her head which has several strands floating in it. There was blood splattered on her pale cheek and the soot I’d placed under her eyes gave her a bruised lifeless look since her skin was so light. Her eyes stare lifelessly towards the window, the glow of the flame reflecting off her skin.

I’d captured several different angles, trying not to get too close to the area where the blood was at the back of her head since there is no bullet wound but it should be enough. These should be convincing enough.

“Are you sending them?” Arryn fidgets by my side.

“Yes,” I nod as I close the images and get up from the couch to plug the phone into the laptop.

“They look real,” she follows me into the kitchen and sits on the opposite side of the table, “How long will it take?”

“A few hours, they’ll have the images checked for authenticity. I’ll know if money is deposited.”

“No money, no freedom,” she whispers.

“Exactly that, princess.”

“And what happens if no money is deposited?”

“I’ll be listed as a hit.”

She gasps, eyes widening, “You’ll be a target!?” I don’t have to give an answer for her to realize the truth.

“Everett!” She scolds. “Does Torin know this?”

“He does.”

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