Page 9 of Rescuing Rebel

Slipping back under the covers,I stare up at the ceiling. The Facility may cultivate a tranquil appearance, but it’s still a gilded prison. There has to be a way out. I just need to bide my time and probe for weaknesses. A chink in their armor will emerge.

When it does, I’ll be ready.

In this way, the days pass until a week’s gone by. I take advantage of a lull in the schedule of therapy, art expression, and other useless things. The Facility is located near cliffs looking down on the Pacific Ocean. I go there when I need to think.

When I’ve had enough nurturing from The Facility’s staff.

When I just need to be alone.

I tilt my face to the sun and let its rays warm my skin. A refreshing breeze blows off the ocean and tugs at my hair, carrying the smell of brine and freedom. I can hardly believe I’m standing here after being locked away by Artemus in that cramped cell.

On a clifftop above the Pacific Ocean.

Its vast majesty extends all the way to the horizon, where sea and sky become one.

One week.

Has it been that long?

One week since Ethan Blackwood ripped open my cell door and looked at me like I was worth saving. Now I’m here, on the grounds of The Facility where Guardian HRS brings all its rescued girls, surrounded by high fences and therapy sessions.

It’s a safe place, but not where I need to be.

Footsteps approach on the dirt path behind me. Glancing back, I see none other than Ethan Blackwood himself walking toward me as if my thoughts magically conjured him. We make eye contact, and an instinctive spark ignites low in my belly.

Even from a distance, his masculine energy is palpable. His tactical gear accentuates his broad shoulders and muscular build, but his eyes draw me in—intense blue, gazing at me with an unspoken question.

Does he feel this strange magnetism pulling us together, or is it just me?

I offer a small smile in greeting. Ethan comes here to assist in combat training for those of us he and his team rescued. In the week since arriving, I’ve seen him every other day, and each time, our eyes linger a moment longer than proper. An unspoken tension simmers beneath the surface.

“Getting some air?” His voice is pleasant but neutral as he joins me at the cliff’s edge. His unique scent teases my nose. Being near so much raw masculinity makes my skin prickle pleasantly.

“Just appreciating the view.” I don’t only mean the ocean. From the corner of my eye, I admire the striking lines of Ethan’s profile.

I suspect he knows it, too.

We stand in companionable silence for a bit, letting the sound of the waves fill the space between us. A strange peace settles over me, existing beside this man without pressure or expectation. Without words, I know Ethan understands the demons that haunt me. His steady presence gives me hope I can heal.

All too soon, he clears his throat and steps back. “I should head back and get ready for today’s lesson. Will I see you at training?”

I nod, offering a small wave as he turns to leave. Our eyes catch and hold for a breathless moment. Something unspoken passes between us before he disappears back down the dirt path. The imprint of his gaze lingers long after he’s gone from sight.

Over the next week, Ethan and his team return several times to teach us self-defense. I make sure to partner with him whenever possible, using the exercises as excuses to touch. To graze his arm as if steadying myself or grip his bicep to “break” his hold.

The spark I felt the first day only burns hotter with each interaction. He remains stoic, but I catch his sharp inhale when my fingers linger too long on his arm. See his throat work when I get close. The intensity of our mutual attraction seems to grow with each glance, each touch, and each shared breath.

Despite that attraction, I’m wasting time. I know this, but hope sparks, thinking the Guardians might be able to help me. Before I enlist their aid, I need to know if they’ll help rather than hinder. As grateful as I am for being rescued from Artemus’s clutches, I’ve lost valuable ground in my search, and I don’t need another rescue getting in my way.

Between mind-numbing art therapy and “sharing circles,” I manage to convince a ditzy kitchen staff, Brittany, to let me sneak into the restricted office hall, claiming I need to call someone important to me. I go on about not wanting the Guardians to know.

That they may not approve.

I’m a great actress. Lying comes easily to me.

Brittany laps up the sob story like a puppy. “Oh, you poor thing, they won’t judge you.”

“I know, but I’d just rather keep this to myself. I don’t want them thinking…” I don’t finish that sentence.

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