Page 87 of Rescuing Rebel

So now, he inflicts pain to provoke a response. To feel alive. To feel strong.

Somehow, men think hitting a woman makes them more of a man. There’s no reasoning with men who believe that. It’s baked into their psyche and what makes them who they are.

But I dare not show weakness. That only fans his cruelty into an inferno.

I force strength into my voice when I want to weep and meet his gaze with defiance when I want to crumble. I maintain the facade for both our sakes—his and mine.

But it’s a taxing performance behind which the real me withers more each day. I’m a ghost of my former self, full of self-loathing for what I’ve done.

I lean my head against the cool glass, releasing a slow breath. On the other side, a petite brunette meets my gaze, her eyes wide and frightened. Her face is a mass of bruising and swollen flesh.

Iris.

The girl whose library privileges wererevokedfor speaking with Ethan.

She should hate me for that, for enforcing Kaufman’s cruel dictates. Instead, her eyes shine with a tentative trust. I’ve truly broken the poor creature. She trusts me because I’m the only one who’s shown her any scrap of kindness in this hell.

It’s more than I deserve.

I turn from the window and head into the training room, bracing myself for another brutal session. The recruits are lined up already, their bruises visible beneath their thin shirts and dresses. Their wide, frightened eyes follow my every movement.

I pause before a shaking blonde girl. Her lip is freshly split. She can’t seem to stop tugging on a lock of stringy hair.

“What’s your name?” I ask gently.

She blinks rapidly. “Leah.”

“That’s a lovely name.” I tilt her chin up. “You have such potential, Leah. You all do. Becoming an Angel is your only chance to avoid an even worse fate.”

I move down the line, meeting each girl’s gaze. “I know it seems bleak now, but you’ve endured the worst of it already. The horrors below are behind you.” I sweep my arm toward the floor. “Never again will you be caged, beaten, or sold off to awful men.”

That last part isn’t true. They will be sold, but only to one man. Not several. Andnotto those who broker in torture for the sake of gratuitous pleasure. That’s what I’m saving these women from.

A few girls shudder, eyes growing misty. I continue, voice low and urgent. “You have a real opportunity here. Take hold of it. Dedicate yourself to becoming an Angel, and you’ll want for nothing. Fine clothes, gourmet meals, your every whim catered to.”

I stop before Iris, offering an encouraging smile. “It won’t be easy. You’ll have to work hard and be obedient. But you can do this. I believe in each of you.”

Iris nods, eyes glinting with that burgeoning trust I don’t deserve. It buoys me, bolstering my fading spirit. Then the guilt crashes into me, sucking the breath from my lungs.

I resume pacing before them. “You know what will happen if you don’t succeed, don’t you?” I let coldness creep into my tone. “Kaufman’s patience is at an end. If you can’t become Angels…”

I trail off meaningfully. Some girls turn pale, fresh tears spilling down their cheeks. Others set their jaws, defiance in their eyes. Those are the ones most at risk. That defiance is a walking death sentence. I need to convince them this is the only way.

I feel a pang at having to be so harsh, but it’s the only way to reach them.

I go to Iris again, tilting her chin up. “You don’t want to end up back in those cells, do you?” I murmur so everyone can hear but let it seem like I speak directly to Iris. “You’re better than that. Smarter. Don’t let fear hold you back.”

I release her and step away. “No more coddling now. The real training begins.” I clap my hands sharply, making them jump. “Line up! We have a lot of work to do.”

The Angels scramble to obey as I force authority into my demeanor. The persona of trainer comes more naturally each time I wear it. Beneath the facade, I cling to the truth—I’m still helping them in the only way left.

By making them Angels, I save them from fates far darker.

Training lasts several hours, and by the end, I’m as wrung out as the women I prepare to survive what’s coming.

With a final glance at the broken souls I’m molding into Angels, I continue down the hallway. There’s somewhere I need to be and only a sliver of time to get there and back before I’m missed.

The air grows colder as I descend into the lower levels of Haven, the lighting dim and ominous. Down here are the true horrors, rooms that froze my blood when I was first granted limited access.

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