Page 112 of Rescuing Rebel

She’s got a better chance of figuring out whatever’s on the paper than I do. I take my leave, discouraged but unsurprised. Nothing’s ever easy.

FORTY-ONE

Ethan

The next day,my feet carry me to Medical on autopilot. I pause outside Rebel’s room, peering through the narrow glass pane. She looks small and pale amidst the tubes and wires, but her chest rises and falls steadily. Just knowing she’s alive sends relief flooding through me.

I press a hand to the glass, aching to go to her, but unwilling to disturb her recovery.

“You care about her.” A soft voice startles me.

I turn to see Iris hovering timidly behind me. She survived Haven along with the other Angels, but trauma haunts her eyes.

I’ve rescued countless individuals, yet I still struggle to comprehend the horrors they’ve endured. I find them the strongest people alive; for some reason, Iris makes me feel comfortable opening up to her.

“We have a—complicated history,” I hedge. Even I don’t fully understand what binds me to Rebel.

Iris nods. “She talked about you sometimes. When it was just us.” She risks meeting my gaze. “You were the only thing that gave her hope.”

“That surprises me.”

“You think Rebel is horrible for grooming the rest of us to be Kaufman’s Angels. I see the judgment in your eyes and the confusion.”

“It doesn’t make sense.”

“She did us a favor, and we’re grateful for the chance she gave us.”

“She offered you slavery. How could that be—”

“Our options were limited. Escape was impossible. Rescue…” She makes a gesture toward me. “Well, rescue seemed even more impossible. Faced with two evils, she gave us an opportunity to pick the lesser evil. I don’t know if I can explain it better than that. Except when she was alone, working with us, convincing us to do the unthinkable and accept our fate, she always talked about the man she met, fell in love with, and left.”

“She did what?” I’m struck speechless. Even after we parted ways, Rebel still thought of me as she endured Kaufman’s world alone? It shakes something loose inside me, making me see our connection in a new light.

“She said few people ever meet their soul mate. That she met hers, but duty and obligation forced her away. Forced her to do the unthinkable and become Kaufman’s Angel. She told us life wouldn’t be easy, but we would have a life to live.” Iris shrugs.

“How are you doing?” As much as I could talk about Rebel all day, Iris is still recovering from her trauma. I don’t want to be insensitive to her needs.

“Evidently, the same as you.” Her warm gaze is like a balm that soothes my soul. Iris would make a good healer. She has that magical touch.

“Huh?”

“Not sleeping.” She wraps her arms around herself and blows out a deep breath. “The people here are amazing. Your organization—its mission—is incredible. They patched those of us that needed patching up and let us take these amazing hot showers. For the first time in months, I feel somewhat human.” Iris draws back apologetically. “Take care of Rebel. She needs someone who can forgive her. The choices she made are some I hope never to be forced to make. Be that person for her. The one who loves her unconditionally and despite her faults.”

Over the next few days, I split my time between checking in on Rebel’s recovery and undergoing debriefings about the Haven rescue. The whole team walks around, high on adrenaline, exhausted but satisfied. We accomplished what we came to do, though at a cost.

Jeb and Stitch finally reported in; thank God. Buried in the rubble that was Haven, it took two days for Mitzy’s Rufi to dig them out. They rented a van to bring the Rufi back and are somewhere between the mountains of Montana and the rugged coastline of California.

A cheeky grin fills my face. I’d love to be a fly on that wall.

At last, Doc Summers gives me the green light to visit Rebel. I enter her room quietly, not wanting to wake her, but her eyes crack open when I sit beside her. Relief floods me at that small response until her eyes pinch with pain, and she turns away.

“Welcome back to the land of the living. You had me worried.” I keep my tone light, but emotion thickens my voice. “Doc Summers had to operate on your leg in the plane. You lost a lot of blood and nearly didn’t make it.”

Rebel’s face spasms with some internal struggle. She avoids my searching gaze, fingers gripping the sheets. The yawning silence expands between us. I don’t push, sensing she’s working up to speaking.

But a knock at the door shatters the moment. Doc Summers bustles in to check vitals, and Rebel shuts down, avoiding my gaze once more. The wall is back up, at least for now. I bite back my frustration.

Over the next few days, Rebel gradually regains strength. Her leg keeps her confined to Medical, and the forced immobility visibly grates at her.

---