Chapter 4

4

Clarke

M y eyes snapped open, my heart already racing, panic clawing at my throat before I even fully came awake. The mattress beneath me was not one of the hard, threadbare, stained ones I'd been laying on for the past few months. The room was warm, unlike the bone-deep cold I'd become used to. And the scent of disinfectant and blood and sex was replaced with men's cologne and lavender.

"Easy, little one," a deep voice rumbled from beside the bed. I scrambled away, surprised to find my hands free. From the other side of the bed, damn near about to topple off the edge, I stared at the bulky, muscular man watching me. His dark eyes tracked every move I made, every fast, panicked breath I took. But he didn't move a muscle except his lips. His face even remained impassive—unreadable.

"You're safe," he assured me, his growly voice low—quiet. Soothing. "Just breathe, yeah? Breathe with me." He drew in a deep breath, and I followed him, a small sound of pain crawling up my throat. My lungs were too constricted, but the smile he awarded me made me push past the pain constricting my lungs. He held his breath then, so I did, too, and then, he slowly released it, watching as I did so, too.

We practiced that for a couple more minutes until I could breathe on my own. Slowly, I ran my eyes over the room, taking it all in. Everything was done in dark tones. Even the walls had been painted a darker tan color—not quite brown. And while some might find it dreary, I found it comforting. It was a stark contrast to the clinical white walls I'd been surrounded by for the past few months, and for the first time in just as long, I felt like I could breathe .

"Where's Beck?" I croaked, my voice hoarse. I licked my lips, wincing at how chapped they were. They were so bad that just rubbing my tongue over my lower lip made it bleed, and I winced when the taste of copper lingered on my tastebuds.

I'd had enough of that copper taste to last me a lifetime.

The man stood to his feet, and I shrunk back from his towering height. Not only was he massive, but he was tall, too. My fingers clenched the blankets as I tracked every step he took toward the door.

"Do not worry about him," the man told me, looking at me over his shoulder as he gripped the door handle. "Adelaide and Reina will be here in a minute. They're here to help you, and they won't hurt you."

With that, he left the room before I could even ask him what his name was. I slowly moved off the bed, my legs a bit shaky. I hadn't used them much lately, and that was evident in the way I walked. Opening the nightstand drawer closest to me, I frowned. It was empty. Sighing, I opened the drawer below it, but nope. Nothing there either.

Making my way around the bed, I opened that nightstand, flinching at the sight of the gun and bullets inside. The drawer beneath it had a locked safe, but there was no key. I huffed and closed that as well just as the door to the room opened again. I swung around, almost losing my balance and having to grip the bed for support so I wouldn't topple over. Two women stepped into the room.

The first woman to walk in had long, dark hair and warm brown eyes, though there was a hardness to them I immediately understood. Like me, she'd gone through something rough, too.

The woman that followed her inside was a little shorter, curvier, and had blonde hair and blue eyes. They were practically polar opposites of each other, but the darkness in their eyes was the same.

Pain. Emotional pain and trauma. Soul deep scars.

"Snooping?" the dark-haired woman asked in a teasing tone. "Don't worry. If I woke up in a strange place with a strange man that resembled The Hulk watching over me, I'd be worried and snooping, too." A small smile tilted her lips. I relaxed a little. "I'm Adelaide, and this is Reina." She gestured to the blonde woman. "How do you feel about taking a shower? Tank had me pick up some clothes and toiletries for you earlier. They're in the bathroom."

"I… that man—is he Tank?" I asked.

Reina nodded. "Yep. He looks terrifying, but he's really just a big teddy bear. You don't have to worry about him." She walked over to a door and pushed it open before reaching in and flicking on a light. A bathroom done in the same dark tones as the room I was in greeted my eyes. "Come on. I'm sure a shower will feel nice. Emma is making you some food so you can eat once you're done showering."

I swallowed thickly. They were being nice. Really nice. And it made my chest ache. I hadn't had this much attention in years—not from anyone other than Beck.

Beck .

My chest ached. Where was Beck? And why wouldn't Tank tell me where he was? Why did Tank tell me not to worry about him? Were they hurting him? Was he dead?

My throat constricted, and I had to force myself to swallow to dislodge the lump there. "Where's Beck?" I asked the two women in front of me, my hands trembling at my sides.

Adelaide shook her head at me. "Go get a shower, hun. What's your name?"

Tears blurred my eyes, but I bit my tongue, forcing them back. I couldn't cry over Beck. If he was in trouble, then I needed to be able to help him. Crying couldn't save him. Tears did nothing for him.

"Clarke," I whispered, answering her question. I twisted my fingers in front of me. "Is he at least safe?"

Reina nodded at me after exchanging a look with Adelaide I couldn't read. "He's safe. That's all we're willing to tell you." She jerked her chin in the direction of the bathroom. "Now go ahead and get a shower, girly."

I sighed and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door quietly behind me. I didn't think they were lying to me about Beck, but if he was so safe, then why wouldn't they tell me anything about him?

My gut cramped, and my chin wobbled. A tear slid down my cheek despite my best efforts to keep them contained.

I'm so sorry, Beck .

I slowly forked a piece of sausage into my mouth, chewing just as slowly. Eating real food like this was different when I'd been surviving off of almost nothing. Food had been scarce, water even more so. Beck snuck me as much food as he could the past couple of months after he infiltrated the trafficking ring I was trapped in, but it was still very seldom. He wasn't really allowed around me unless I was unconscious.

Which was more often than not due to me being a fighter. Those fuckers had done their best to break me since they couldn't sell me if I fought too much, but I'd held strong to my will to live. I would not give in, even if every part of me was so damn tired, I felt like giving up.

"Where are you from, Clarke?" Adelaide asked me as she sipped at her coffee. Her eyes were on her oldest son, who was reading—I'd been introduced to everyone down here. They all kept their distance from me, but all the men in the building were unsettling all the same.

"Um, Washington," I murmured. "Seattle, specifically."

"And your parents?" Reina asked as her daughter, Houston, came over to her with a ponytail holder. Reina immediately began braiding the girl's long hair before tying it off at the end and sending her back on her way to continue drawing whatever she was sketching in that black book.

I frowned. "Amber Corey," I told her. "My stepdad is Carl Corey."

"Did you take on your stepfather's last name, too?" Adelaide asked me. Immediately, I shook my head, my lips twisting the tiniest bit in disgust. I hated that man with a passion. He was cruel and demeaning and only cared about money and his image.

"Uh, no. My stepdad's an asshole," I said bluntly. "My last name is Tobin. It's my father's, and he was a decent man. A drunk driver killed him," I supplied before she could ask about that, too. I felt like I was under investigation, but I sort of understood. I didn't know why they hadn't sent me home yet, but I wasn't keen on returning there either. Not without Beck.

Beck had kept me safe, and the moment he left home at my urging to go chase his dreams, things at home had gotten… weird. Strange men and women came and went at all hours of the day and night, never using the front entrance. I was always sent to my room when they came, which was where I ended up staying most of the time since someone shady-looking was always in our home.

I'd wanted to call Beck so many times and plead for him to come back home but… well, I didn't want to be the reason his dream ended.

Only, I had been anyway. Because Beck had come after me. Had quit school and hockey and tracked me down to the trafficking ring I was being smothered in. He'd dove head-first into the danger. And while he hadn't been able to rescue me, I was grateful he was there. That I wasn't alone.

I'd clung to his presence with both hands, letting it be my reason to keep fighting. To not lose my will to live.

Beck hadn't left me alone.

And that meant more to me than anything else in the whole damn world.