Chapter 16

16

Rogue

T his time, when he heard the noise, Rogue didn’t even bother to raise his head. He wasn’t sure he could lift it, and in any case the steps sounded nothing like those of his two tormentors. This was more like a small animal scratching at the wooden door. Then the door creaked open. There was a soft rush of air into the room, and then he smelled her—orange blossom.

He forced his eye open—a gargantuan effort—wondering how his mind had managed to conjure up her smell so perfectly. Not just her smell. Her body, too. She wore capri pants that hugged her slim legs, and a silky cream camisole that swished as she moved. Her blond hair fell loose in soft waves down her back.

“You’re so beautiful,” he croaked. This was a good dream. Not like the drug-addled nightmares he’d endured, and which he’d feared might never end. No. This was a soft, warm dream. He wanted to hold on to it. He wanted her to be the last thing he saw before death claimed him. Regret hit him at the thought that he would die and leave Bea here, in Cruz and Aguilar’s hands. She was an innocent. She didn’t deserve this. He calmed himself by reminding himself his team would come. He had to believe they would get her out. The figure walked closer, until she was standing right in front of him. So real .

Her breath hitched, her mouth contracting in a pained grimace. “What have they done to you, Rogue?” She stood up on her tiptoes and pressed something against his lips, the light touch making him hiss in pain.

“Sorry,” she whispered. Cool, fresh water fell into his mouth. He swallowed convulsively. Nothing had ever felt this good before. This real . As the cool water hit his throat, the dream began to dissolve.

No. Fuck, no.

“You’re not real,” he croaked.

“I’m real,” she said in a trembling voice. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” Her hands found the shackles around his wrists. She tugged, and his wrists flared up with pain. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the key.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. The shadows under her eyes were more pronounced than ever. She’d lost weight—weight she couldn’t afford to lose.

“Are you okay?” he asked. Even as she dismissed his question with a shake of her head, her stomach rumbled. “You haven’t eaten.” He struggled against the chains holding him fast, as if they would magically release him. Fuck . Everything hurt. “You have to get back to your room,” he said. She looked at him like he was crazy.

“I’ll go find my uncle. I’ll tell him it wasn’t your fault. I’ll tell him?—”

“No. You have to get out of here. I don’t know how long it will take, but my team will come find you.”

“Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Long story. I stole a phone from my uncle and spoke with Slate to let him know you need help.”

Fuck. She’d done that for him. He didn’t know whether to be impressed or terrified. His friend’s name brought with it a rush of hope. But hope was dangerous. Cruz could be back anytime with more drugs.

Bea pressed the cup against his lips again, offering him more water, but Rogue pushed it away. He shouldn’t drink it. Drinking would only make him stronger, and if Cruz’s plan was to keep drugging him, Rogue might end up sharing things he’d rather die than share.

“Did Aguilar hurt you?” He shouldn’t be talking to her, either, but he had to know.

“No. Nobody’s come to see me.”

“Good,” Rogue said, struggling to project strength to his voice. “You need to go back to your room. Pretend you’ve been there all along.”

“He said he was sending for a priest,” she whispered.

“A priest?”

“To marry me.” This time, a sob broke through her lips.

Rogue knew what that meant. The moment they were married, Aguilar would consummate the marriage. He would touch her. He would …Rage like he’d never known filled him. Rage at his inability to protect her. Rage that men like Cruz and Aguilar hadn’t been stopped yet.

“How far away does the priest live?”

She cocked her head sideways. “Two days away.”

So they would be back soon. And he was trapped here. “I want to kill him,” Rogue confessed. Bea stroked down his chest, her hands gentles, careful to avoid the burns and bruises. After the pain of the last days, her touch felt like liquid pleasure.

“You’re a good man,” she whispered.

Rogue almost snorted at that but caught himself at the last minute. He knew how much that would hurt.

“You shouldn’t be here, Bea. You need to go back to your room before your uncle comes looking for you. When the priest comes, make something up. Stall them. I promise I’ll keep them busy as long as I can.”

“What? No. We need to get you out of here. They’re going to kill you.”

He didn’t bother denying that possibility. It was one he’d always been ready for, though he hadn’t expected to care this much. Bea had changed that for him. She’d changed everything.

“Go back to your room, Bea.” She shook her head. “Please. It’s the only chance, for both of us,” he said. “If they find out I’ve been lying to them …” He let that thought percolate in her mind, that things could get worse for him. “Go and be ready for when Slate gets here.”

Finally, she nodded, giving in. Rogue sighed in relief. She made her way slowly to the door, then turned around at the last second. “Slate said to hold strong. Please hold strong, Rogue. For me.”

Every cell in his body rebelled as he watched her move away, but Rogue clamped his jaw together to stop himself from asking her to come back.

You can’t protect her right now. This is the safest thing for her.

And then she was gone, and though the small, yellow light bulb was still in the same position, it was as if she’d taken the sun with her.

Please be safe.