Page 89 of Rescuing Rebel

I turn slowly, pulse raging. He stands far too close, crowding me with his imposing bulk, a cruel smile twisting his lips.

“I sent the Angels back to their cells to—reflect on their choices.” He closes in, eyes burning with malevolence. “Their progress remains unacceptable. Where were you? I would’ve expected you to double down on their training.” He reaches out, deceptively gentle, and grasps my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “I warned you there would be consequences for failure.”

I jerk my head back, anger overriding fear. “You’ve given me an impossible task. It’s not enough time to undo the trauma they’ve endured. I’ve barely been able to get half of them to trust me. I need more time.” I stand boldly in place, refusing to cower and show weakness.

The sharp crack of his palm against my cheek whips my head to the side. I gasp at the explosive pain and stagger back.

“You dare take that tone with me?” Kaufman roars, bearing down on me. I retreat until my back hits the wall, nowhere left to go as his bulk traps me in place. His hand clasps my throat, squeezing just shy of cutting off my breath completely.

“Please...” I choke out, clawing at his iron grip. His eyes are wild, pupils dilated with rage. He’s lost all control, driven by impulse and whatever sick hunger drives him.

The pressure increases, and dark spots swim across my vision. This is it. He’s finally going to kill me.

Just then, the door bursts open, and Ethan strolls in, flanked by Hank and Gabe. Kaufman’s grip on my throat loosens in surprise.

“Oh, sorry to interrupt,” Ethan says casually as if he doesn’t notice Kaufman assaulting me. “We’re just checking security systems in this sector.”

Ethan’s gaze sweeps to me for a brief moment before he turns away, feigning disinterest, but I see the fury burning beneath his calm facade.

Kaufman roughly releases me. I slide down the wall, gasping for breath as oxygen floods my starved lungs. My fingers probe the tender flesh of my throat, surely already darkening with bruises from Kaufman’s vice-like grip.

“We can come back later if this is a bad time,” Ethan says mildly, not a trace of confrontation in his easy tone. His face is placid, almost bored, as his eyes sweep the room.

Kaufman bristles at Ethan’s flippant suggestion, straightening his suit jacket and smoothing back his hair. “No need. I was having a—disciplinary meeting with my trainer.” His dark gaze cuts to me, naked warning in his eyes. “Isn’t that right, Rebel?”

I give the barest hint of a nod, not trusting my voice. Speaking now, with my throat raw and lungs still heaving for air, might provoke more of Kaufman’s volatile temper.

As I avoid his piercing stare, my eyes drift over Ethan, Hank, and Gabe. They stand in casual formation. Shoulders relaxed. Mouths neutral. Masculine tension hums just below the surface. They’re coiled springs, ready to unleash calculated aggression at the slightest provocation.

Ethan meets my gaze, and though his face remains impassive, a blaze of fury burns in his eyes. It lasts only a heartbeat before he notices the marks on my throat and the handprint on my cheek. His jaw clenches almost imperceptibly as he buries his rage.

Kaufman turns his attention back to Ethan. “Carry on with your security checks.” His voice snaps with a warning.

He moves past Ethan and his men, attempting to intimidate them with his size. Ethan deftly sidesteps into his path, casual but deliberate. Kaufman pulls up short, brows lowering at this obstacle in his way.

“Of course,” Ethan replies easily, infuriatingly polite. “But since we’re here, maybe you could clarify some questions I had about the restricted areas…”

He continues talking about security protocols, his tone light, as if unaware he’s infuriated Kaufman twice over already. I marvel at his composure. If I didn’t know him, I’d think this meeting was of little consequence to him.

But I do know Ethan, know the iron willpower he possesses beneath that relaxed facade. I recognize the subtle signs of his restraint as he engages Kaufman—the barest tightening along his jawline, the way he allows no hint of confrontation to enter his voice or eyes.

This mastery of self-control is an amazing weapon in Ethan’s arsenal, and right now, it’s the only one he can safely deploy.

Kaufman’s massive shoulders bunch, cornered-animal tension radiating off him in waves. His hands open and close at his sides, but Ethan remains maddeningly polite. After a silent battle of wills, Kaufman responds gruffly, “Fine. Walk with me.”

He turns on his heel, expecting Ethan to step behind him in a show of submission, but Ethan glides smoothly to Kaufman’s side, an equal keeping pace with an equal.

If this insolence bothers Kaufman, he gives no outward reaction as they exit the room, already conversing about off-limit sectors and camera blind spots.

Hank pauses in the doorway, meeting my eyes just long enough to give an almost imperceptible nod. It lasts only a second but carries a wealth of meaning. They have my back, and I’m not alone, even if it feels that way.

His eyes reflect understanding and kindness. Empathy even, although I don’t deserve any of it. He nods subtly, as if saying he understands, and then follows after the others.

The door eases shut, leaving me alone in the room that seems to press in from all sides. I draw a shaky breath, rolling my tender shoulders, regaining my equilibrium after the shock of Ethan’s timely intervention and the pain throbbing in my cheek and neck.

However calmly Ethan concealed it, seeing Kaufman’s hands on me triggered animalistic rage. I pray he restrains the impulse to tear Kaufman apart long enough to complete his mission.

Then fear grabs a hold of me. When his mission is complete, I’ll be left alone with Kaufman. This is no surprise. I knew the risks and accepted them when I began my search for Violet. It’s too late to back out now. Not when I finally located the records room.

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