Page 86 of Rescuing Rebel

“Did not.”

Stitch laughs, then points at me. “Dude, you totally kissed her.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, but my voice lacks conviction.

“You’re a lousy liar, Ethan Blackwood. We all know what’s at stake here, and you’re out there playing kissing games and pissing off Kaufman.”

“I’m not compromising the mission,” I snap back, feeling a sudden surge of anger. “And he has no idea Rebel and I know each other.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” She meets my glare with one of her own. “Don’t think I didn’t see how distracted you were earlier? And Kaufman? He may not know why he hates you, but his inner caveman senses something.”

I look at her, and I see the worry in her eyes. She’s not attacking me; she’s afraid. Afraid for me, for all of us.

“I’ve got it handled.” I meet her gaze. “Trust me.”

She looks at me for a long moment, then nods, a reluctant acceptance in her eyes. “I do. But be careful. Please.”

I nod, understanding the unspoken warning, feeling the weight of her trust and the responsibility it carries.

“I will. I promise.”

And I mean it.

THIRTY-ONE

Rebel

The walls seemto creep closer with each passing day, the twisting corridors of Haven becoming more claustrophobic than ever before. I wander aimlessly, my mind churning, my heart heavy with regret and doubt about what I’m doing and why.

Ethan’s kiss still lingers on my lips. His touch still tingles on my skin. The comfort it brought, however, was fleeting. Now, only emptiness and questions claw at me from the inside.

What have I become? Do the ends justify my means? Am I a monster?

I pause outside the Angels’ training room, peering through the small window at the blank faces of the recruits—the latest group of kidnapped girls I’m meant to twist into Angels. Their wills are still strong. Their eyes still hold defiance. They’ve yet to accept their fate, and I haven’t had time to motivate them properly. To train them to bide their time and escape only when they’re absolutely certain they’ll get away.

They’re far from ready.

Kaufman demands they be auction-ready within a week. An impossible task. He’ll hurt them for my failure. Then he’ll kill them; it won’t be an easy or quick death either. It’ll be a lesson for those who remain.

And me.

He’ll make a spectacle of it, auctioning off the rights in a macabre twist. This is what I need these girls to understand.

There are only two paths out of this place. The first comes at the end of a leash, shackled to a man willing to pay for an obedient and pliable female. The other is to be disposed of in a mass, unmarked grave.

My hand goes to my bruised cheek, the swollen flesh a visible reminder of Kaufman’s rage. His visits have become more frequent, his moods darker, and his words crueler. I bear the brunt of his displeasure because I embody his precious Angels.

I’m the first Angel.

It was my idea, a desperate gamble that hasn’t failed me yet.

His control is slipping. I sense his growing madness and the instability that simmers beneath the surface. He is a predator who enjoys the hunt, and the game grows boring when the prey is cowed.

That’s me. I’m the prey, and he tamed me.

Or rather, I tamed myself.

Because I’m desperate.

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