Page 77 of Rescuing Rebel

My stomach drops. He must have witnessed the training session with the new captives. Bile rises in my throat at the thought of how it looked—me poised and beautiful amid their suffering, seemingly allied with their tormentor.

“You don’t understand—” I begin weakly.

“You’re right. I don’t understand. Explain it to me.” Ethan stalks toward me, eyes blazing. “Explain the exam room. The OR. Those goddamn collection trays.” His voice rises with each question until he’s nearly shouting.

I flinch, shrinking away from his fury. “I can’t…”

“Dammit, Rebel!” He slams his fist against the wall in frustration. I flinch as he looms over me. Then he steps back, raking a hand through his hair. When he meets my gaze again, his eyes are pleading. “Whatever hold Kaufman has on you, I can help. Just let me in. Tell me why you’re here.”

“The truth is too dangerous.” I look away, blinking back tears. I wish desperately I could confide in him, but to involve Ethan would make him complicit in my crimes.

“I can’t.” I infuse steel into my tone. “It’s necessary. The only way—”

“Like hell.” Ethan grabs my shoulders, voice breaking. “This goes way beyond trafficking. What you’re doing—it’s inhuman.” His voice cracks on the last word.

My soul shrivels at his damming words. I squeeze my eyes shut, willing my composure to hold. “It’s the only way.”

Ethan makes a low sound of frustration. His fingertips dig into my arms, then slowly loosen. When I open my eyes again, he stares at me.

“Rebel, look at me.” He tilts my chin up, forcing me to meet his piercing gaze. “This isn’t you. Let me help before you’re in too deep.”

Being this close to him ignites a longing inside me, an ache to cling to him and leave this nightmare behind, but my mission comes first. Ethan can’t know. Kaufman can’t discover my true purpose. I’m all alone in this.

I shake my head mutely.

We argue in circles, Ethan begging me to let him help, to turn from this dark path. But I refuse, terrified of implicating him in my crimes. After a weighted moment, Ethan releases me with a ragged sigh. He turns toward the door, but hesitates, one hand on the knob.

My soul is already lost. Ethan’s right. I’m a monster, just like Kaufman.

At last, he leaves, casting me one final anguished look. The chasm between us brings me to my knees, sobs wracking my frame. I don’t know how long I cry on the floor, but a knock at the door stirs me from my bleak thoughts.

Has Ethan returned? Fresh tears spring to my eyes at the prospect. I need so badly to unburden myself to him, to feel his strong arms around me again.

But Ethan wouldn’t knock.

A hulking guard enters when I take too long to respond. His smile is a lewd and heartless thing. He looks at my tear-streaked face and snarls, upper lip curling in disgust. “Time to get prettied up. Boss wants his favorite Angel to look nice and sweet.”

Revulsion twists my gut, but I keep my face impassive as I dress and follow him down the hall. The farce continues, even as my spirit fractures.

Soon, I stand polished and perfected before Kaufman’s scrutiny. The gleam in his eyes turns my blood to ice, but I incline my head submissively.

“You look exquisite as always,” he purrs, trailing one finger down my bare arm. It takes all my willpower not to shudder at his touch. Tonight will push me to new depths, but I must play my part.

Kaufman takes my elbow, leading me to the grand dining room where his “client” awaits. I steel myself as we approach the doors, donning the mask of Kaufman’s Angel once more. The horrors I’ve endured fade into the background, overshadowed by my single driving purpose: my vow to Violet. If I can dismantle this monstrous regime from within, while I fulfill her dying wish, then so be it.

Whatever Kaufman and his cronies do to me along the way doesn’t matter, so long as my efforts bring Haven crashing down. If my soul is forfeited in the process, so be it. My life is already stained beyond redemption.

The double doors swing open, revealing the luxurious dining room where unspeakable deals are made. Candlelight glimmers off crystal glasses, silver cutlery, and the cold smile of Kaufman’s guest. I bow my head demurely at the introduction.

Inside, I’m screaming.

Another night of degradation in exchange for the chance to strike a fatal blow against Haven. I cling to that thought as Kaufman presents me to his leering guest, Mr. Crawford.

Let the performance begin.

Squaring my shoulders, I turn to greet ourguest, a coy smile arranged on my lips. Another layer of my innocence is lost tonight.

“Rebel is my finest Angel,” Kaufman says, giving me an approving once-over. “Aren’t you, my dear?”

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