Page 32 of Delta

We reach the ticketing counter, and I pretend to think. "You know, I've got a friend who lives in Lyon. He's well-connected. He might be able to help you sort this out."

"I mean, really, I just want to get back to my family."

"Obviously, I don't know your family, but are you sure you want to bring this to them? My friend can sort this out, and you'll keep your family safe from it. These blokes ain't playin, love."

She doesn't answer right away, thinking. "I guess that makes sense. You don't know my family, though." She shrugs. "I don't know. I don't know what to do. I brought this on myself. I snuck out."

I'm still not clear on why she had to sneak out to go to the club in the first place, but I suspect she left out a few details on purpose. Doesn't totally trust me. Smart girl.

I don't want her to trust me. I want her to get away from me. But I can't let her. I need her to trust me.

Fuck me, I hate this. I hate this fucking bastard for putting me in this situation. I hate the universe for putting me in this situation. I hate myself for putting me in this situation

But, I do what I must. For her. I'll just have to learn how to live with the guilt.

"My family would be pissed if they found out I didn't call them for help."

"Dunno what to say to that one. Never had family to care like that. Good on ya for having that."

Shit. Didn't mean to say that.

"No family, huh?"

"Nah."

Here she goes with the leading silence. I know what she's doing, but fuck me if I can't help but fill it.

"I'm an orphan. I was left at the door of a vicarage when I was only a few days old. No note, no clue who my mother was, nothing." I shrug. "Lived in orphanages and foster homes for the first few years, but I done a runner on ‘em when it got hairy. Lived on the streets after that. Joined the army at seventeen, soon's they'd take me."

"When it got hairy?" she asks.

“Bah,” I say, waving her off. “You got to know what that means, Bryn. I know for a fact the foster system in your country ain't any better than the English one. Worse, maybe."

"I've heard stories about it, yeah," she says. "Saw stuff on TV."

I snort. "What's on the telly ain't the half of it, love. Fuckin' awful, what it is. Taught me early to keep my own counsel, and how to take a hell of a beating." I see her mouth open and hold up a finger to stop her. "Nah-nah, don't. No sorrys. No, ‘oh, how awful.’ Shove all that shit back in your gob. Don't wanna hear it."

"Honestly, Rush, I can't relate. At all. Let's just say that my life, growing up, could not possibly have been any further from yours.”

I laugh. "Yeah, love, I gathered that."

She frowns at me. "What's that mean?"

"Nothin'."

"No, tell me."

"People who grew up with everything have a…I dunno. A unique way of movin' through the world. A sort of…what is it? An assurance, I guess. Sort of the opposite of my type. I'm a cocky bastard, right? I know that. But I am because I've fuckin' earned it. I know who I am. I know what I can do. I know where I been and what I come out of. And it's made me strong. Your lot is different. Not better or worse, just different. You know your place in the world because you've never had to question it."

"Till now," she murmurs. "Definitely questioning it now."

"Fair enough, yeah." I gesture at her. "So. Where to?"

She sighs, looking at me. "Lyon. But…Rush?"

My heart hammers when she says my name like that. Soft. Hesitant. "Don't fuck me over. Please. Okay? I'm starting to like you, a little bit."

Fuck me.