Page 32

Thirty-One

Sebastian

Don’t flinch. Don’t cower. Don’t let this fucking asshole see how terrifying the point of that knife really is. The world shrinks to the point of metal shifting closer and closer to my eye. Sweat coats me, my guts churn, but I will not, will not, will not throw up.

The point comes closer, and I screw my eyes shut. When it comes, it starts in my forehead. He carves a slow path over my skin, and it’s a new level of torture, deep and sickening. He’s damaging me, hurting me in a way that can’t be undone.

When the tip reaches my eyelid, I scream. I can’t help it. I scream, and it blends with Harrison’s laughter.

My knees give way. I dangle between the men holding me up until the moving tip finally, finally stops somewhere on my cheek. The searing agony in my eye consumes everything.

“Drop him.” The hands let go, and I collapse to the floor. My ribs scream as I land, but even that is muted, sucked into the vortex in my eye. I can’t see. I’m blind.

Get a grip. You still have one eye. Get a grip.

It doesn’t work. The panic might as well be alive. It rips and rages through me, shredding my thoughts .

“Boss. Chopper.”

The urgent words just make it through the haze. Chopper. How?

“Ah. Looks like your friends found you. Shame. I was having fun. Time to wrap things up, though.”

A gun cocks right in front of me. This is it. I’m going to die on my fucking knees at Harrison Calder’s feet.

No. Just no.

With the last of my strength, I lunge forward. I slam into Harrison, and the yelp he lets out as he crashes to the floor is the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard. I can’t see, but I don’t need to. I raise my fist and bring it down. It hits something soft, and Harrison grunts.

Gunfire blasts out, a deafening barrage of automatic fire. Something—the windows, maybe—shatter. When the sound cuts out, my ears ring so badly I can’t hear anything else. Deaf as well as blind. Awesome.

Underneath me, Harrison shifts. Good. The only sense I need right now is touch. I slam my fist down again. Again. Again. Sometimes I hit squashy skin. A couple of times, bone. Didn’t he have a gun? Maybe he lost it when he fell. In any case, all I care about is bringing my fist down, over and over, until a hand grips my wrist.

“Mate.” I can just make out Jacob’s voice through the ringing. “Mate, you can stop now. He’s out. I’ll take care of it. You need the medic.”

I want to kill him myself. But I’m blind, and all the pain my rage drowned out is coming back. My eye. My fucking eye. I can’t shoot a gun if I can’t see.

“Do it.”

There’s no whimper from Harrison, and he’s not moving. I must have knocked him out. Go me. Hands help me move backward, and a single shot rings out, muffled in my damaged ears. It’s done.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, I go limp.

The journey back is a whirl. Someone with a calm voice wraps my damaged eye in a bandage, and I’m lifted onto a stretcher. An injection brings with it a blissful wave of peace, pushing the pain to the background as I float. The chopper sends ripples through my body, and Jacob keeps up a steady chatter as we fly.

“Not long now, mate. The docs will sort you out. Wait till Quinn sees you with an eye patch. You’ll never hear the end of the fucking pirate jokes.”

Ah, British humor. Why let mutilation get in the way of a good laugh?

By the time we land, I’m barely conscious. More bumping. A bright light in my face. “We need to operate immediately.”

Nothing.

***

Consciousness creeps back, and I wish it wouldn’t. It’s nice here, in the dark. No pain. No memories. Just a cozy black blanket protecting me from the world.

It doesn’t last, though. Little by little, it all comes back. The pain. The helplessness. The feel of someone damaging me beyond repair. I raise a shaky hand to my face and find a tight bandage over my left eye. The right is puffy and sore.

I take a deep breath, which hurts my ribs, and open my right eye. Light stabs me, but it’s beautiful. At least that one still works. Thank fuck. I let out a shuddering, relieved breath as Jacob says, “Welcome back. ”

Gradually, I adjust to the light enough that I can actually see. I’m in Medical, and my bed is angled up slightly so I can see the room. Jacob and Gabriel sit at either side of my bed. No Kendrick. No Gilda guards ready to take me into custody. That has to be a plus. Right?

“Ophelia?” My voice croaks.

Jacob answers. “She’s with the girls. She was pretty upset, so Quinn took her to Hadrian’s lab to distract her while we waited for you to wake up.”

Upset. Of course. Her brother. We killed her brother. He was a bastard, but he was her flesh and blood.

Gabriel hands me a glass of water, and I clutch it. It hurts when I press it to my lips. I must be a mess. The cold water clarifies my thoughts a little. “She knows he’s dead?”

Gabriel frowns, then rolls his eyes. “She’s not upset about her brother. She’s upset about you, you fucking dumbass.”

“What?” I must still be slow on the uptake. I have to be, because this makes no sense.

Jacob says, “She found your iPad and sent a help message through the room service app. Clever as fuck. She didn’t want him to hurt you. If it wasn’t for her, you’d be dead.”

“Shit.” I close my eyes. Eye. It’s aching already.

Gabriel sighs. “Enlighten us as to why that’s a bad thing?”

“She doesn’t deserve this. It wasn’t her fault. She shouldn’t be here.”

There’s a long, drawn-out silence before Jacob speaks. “Mate, neither should Quinn. Or Eve. Or any of them. But for what it’s worth, I think she’s going to fit in here. You’ll just have to live with the guilt of taking her, like we all do.”

I open my eye again. Gabriel’s lips are tight. “Sometimes I look at Eve and just fucking hate myself. I want to give her the world, but she’ll only ever have this little sliver of it, and it’s my fault. I don’t know how she’s as happy as she is. I don’t deserve her.”

I’ve never heard him speak like this before. Gabriel and Eve are the gold standard—the most sickeningly in love couple in the damn Compound.

Jacob, practical as always, says, “There are plenty worse places to live than here. Some of the places I’ve seen, the people would give anything for what the girls have. It’s not ideal, but it’s not the worst thing on the planet either. And her family seem like a pack of cunts, to be fair.”

That, I won’t argue with.

My left eye twinges, and I ask the question I’ve been dreading. “Did I lose the eye?”

There’s a beat of silence that feels like forever before Gabriel answers. “Not the eyeball, no, but you might not see out of it again. They won’t know for a few days. They operated with a laser to try and save the retina.”

A few days. Christ.

“The rest of you is a mess.” Jacob sounds far too cheerful about that. “Bruised ribs—you’re lucky none broke—you’re black and blue all over, and you’re going to have a killer scar. Right across your eye.”

“Like a pirate,” I add without really thinking, and he grins.

“Yep. Not a bad thing, if you ask me. I reckon Ophelia will love it. It’ll make you look dangerous.”

“Hmmmm.” I close my eye again, tiredness creeping back.

“It’s less than you deserve, mate. What the fuck were you thinking? Kendrick is going to rip you a new one.”

“Oh, good. A lecture.”

“He’s fucking livid.”

“Wonderful. ”

With that cheerful thought in my head, I drift back off to sleep.

***

I wake again, more easily this time, to a soft pressure on my hand. I open my eye to find Ophelia seated where Jacob was before. It’s a much, much prettier sight, and I take a minute to enjoy it.

Her eyes are closed, and she almost looks asleep. She’s tied her hair back, and the profile of her face, her beautiful lips, are just perfection. That possessive lurch surges in my chest.

She’s mine. All mine.

But she shouldn’t be. It’s cold water splashed over my desire. She’s a victim, just as surely as Maggie was, and I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. First, she suffered because of Harrison and her father. Now, she’s suffering because of me. And yet she’s still holding my goddamn hand.

I grip her fingers in my own. I can enjoy it, can’t I? Punishing myself won’t set her free any more than punishing her brought Maggie back. It’s useless.

She jumps, then turns to face me. “You’re awake. It’s late. The doctor said not to wake you. I thought you’d end up spending the night here.”

I rub my hand over my face and wince. “Where is everyone?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not unchaperoned. Your guard dog is right outside.”

Guard dog? Oh God, she must mean Jacob. I smile, though it hurts. “I can’t wait to tell him you called him that.”

Her lips twist into a tiny smile. “I’m starting to think he’s not as scary as he seems at first. ”

She might not think that the next time Quinn decides to make a scene in public and Jacob unleashes his personal brand of hell on her. But we’ll cross that disturbing bridge when we come to it.

“Wait till you see him eat breakfast. It’s terrifying.”

I let go of her hand and struggle up to a sitting position. My torso screams. Is the doctor sure there are no broken ribs? It feels like my bones are broken glass. Ophelia raises her voice. “He’s awake.”

A white-coated man appears, middle-aged and short with thinning sandy hair. Another doctor, not one I’ve seen recently. From the stern, non-deferential way he addresses me, I’m sure he’s a Brother. “You can go home, but to rest. No strenuous activity.”

“Deal. Netflix in bed. Got it.”

“And leave the bandage alone. That eye needs to be undisturbed to give it the best chance of recovery.”

Ophelia’s face twists at his words. Guilt. She’s feeling guilty her asshole brother blinded her captor. This girl needs some positive male role models in her life. I want to shake her and cuddle her and have her on her knees at my feet all at once. And I’m too sore and useless to do any of them.

“Sebastian. Is that clear?”

“Yes. Sorry, I was miles away. I’ll leave it alone.”

“Good. I’ll get a wheelchair.”

“No. I can walk.”

“Can you now? We’ll see.” Definitely a Brother.

** *

It turns out, with Jacob and Gabriel’s assistance, I can. Each step is a little victory, and by the time I collapse into my own bed, I’m exhausted but satisfied. The guys leave quickly, shutting the door behind them, sealing Ophelia and me in. She still can’t leave this room without my thumbprint.

It seems redundant now. She went out of her way to save my life. She’s hardly going to stab me.

I strip off my shirt. I insisted on putting it back on, even though the guys told me it was stupid. I wasn’t walking across the Compound wrapped in a blanket like a crazy old man. Ophelia hisses, and I can see why when I look down at my body. Deep purple and blue mottles my skin. “You should see the other guy,” I say, then curse my stupid, stupid mouth.

The other guy. Her brother. Who is dead.

She lets out a bitter laugh. “Trust me, Sebastian, I’m glad I’ll never see the other guy again. Truly. I knew he was bad, but— ” She shakes her head. “—I think I pretended he wasn’t as bad as he is.” Her face falls. “But I’m worried about my dad. He’ll take it hard.”

Worried about her dad. After everything, she still cares about him. I suppose it makes sense. She cared enough about me to save my life.

I unbuckle my belt, then stop myself. Ophelia hasn’t taken anything off yet, and I can’t be naked when she isn’t. That would set the power dynamic all wrong, and even after everything, I need to keep it. That primal part of me, the part that wants to own this woman forever, insists on it.

“Get undressed,” I command, then wait. If she says “Or what?” I don’t have an answer. I’m in no shape to make her do anything.

She pauses for a long time, and I can practically hear her thinking the same thing. Then she shakes her head and pulls off her top. She reaches behind herself to unhook her bra, and her beautiful breasts tumble free.

God, I wish I wasn’t broken. The one part of me that seems miraculously unharmed presses against my trousers as she slides off her skirt and panties. Her firm, round ass is almost too beautiful to look at when I know I’m incapable of touching her. It’s torture, and as she watches me, a look passes over her face, brief but clear. Amusement.

The little minx. At least some small part of her is enjoying this.

Fuck.

The surge of desire burns away all my newfound scruples. Guilt? What guilt? Maybe I shouldn’t have taken her, but she’s here now. She’s here, and she’s naked, and I can’t do anything about it.

Or maybe I can.

I’ll hate myself for it later, but I can’t bring myself to give one single shit. It’s been a bitch of a day. It might as well have a happy ending.

“Come here.” I reach out my hand—they still work—and she climbs onto the bed, a confused frown on her face. Wondering why she’s doing what I say, perhaps? That makes two of us, but I’m not going to question a good thing. I run the tip of my finger over Ophelia’s lips. They part, and she looks at me, eyes a confused gray storm. I know what to do.

“You’ve been such a good girl today, pet. I’m so proud of you.”

As always, her cheeks color with the praise. I’m a bastard. I’m taking advantage of her very unhealthy need to please others. I should stop.

I won’t, though .

I wrap my hand around the back of her neck and pull her gently toward me. Her lips touch mine, and it’s heaven. She freezes for a second, as if, very sensibly, she’s questioning what the hell she’s doing. Then I flick my tongue over her lips, and she melts into me.

My lips are swollen, and it hurts, but it’s worth every bit of the pain. She tastes so sweet it makes my head spin, and the little moan she makes against my mouth as I find her nipple sends an electric shock straight to my cock. After what feels like a long time, I twist my hand in her hair and pull her back.

She’s dazed, and I know how she feels because my head is swimming, too. I’m right on the brink of exhaustion, and she can’t be far behind. We should go to sleep. But all the aches and pains in my body are secondary to the ache in my cock.

I keep my voice gentle, though that possessive fury is in charge now.

She belongs to me.

“Be a good little girl for me now and unbuckle my belt.”