Page 12 of Sire

I feel vindicated.

Mr. Muscle is on my side.

“You have a spare bedroom,” he continues. “You knowwhywe dowhatwe do, so protect her.”

“Until when?” The Pastor fumes, “Until the truth sets her free?” His glare slices to me. “When will you tell us how you wound up trafficked? What happened, and who’s after you? And how long will you need my protection?”

“When will you tell me who you really are?” I point between them. “Both of you. No church does what you did for me and those girls. It was a group of you guys working for Ms. Faye. I counted five of you when we got in the van. So, who areyou?”

Silence turns their stunning faces to threatening stone.

Common sense would tell me to stop asking questions. These men look like they could kill me in one smack.

But we know my record with common sense.

“Okay, fine.” I tap my foot. “Names. At least give me those and I’ll finally give you my full name.”

Mr. Muscle offers his bear paw, his smile dazzling. “Jace Ryan.”

I shake his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jace. But can I still call you Mister Muscle?”

He winks, nodding yes.

Next to these two, I’m a Polly Pocket doll, but they won’t break me. They won’t even toy with me. They’re not like the men who tormented me for a year.

The Pastor comforts the boy in his grasp with a pat on his back. But I don’t miss the demonic tattoos smoking over his corded forearms. Or how he stares at me, his gaze flicking tomy exposed waist in this crop top, before he rips it away, forcing his glare back to mine.

He doesn’t want me here.

But he doesn’t want me hurt.

He doesn’t want me to stay.

But …he wants me.

Yes, that’s this feeling making everyone else in the room disappear while his eyes lock with mine. There’s something powerful between us. It’s making my pulse race, too.

We feel it.

And I won’t break our standoff.

Yes, stubbornness serves me well. I’ve stared down too many people who had the power to help or hurt me. I’m not afraid to let the silence get so powerful between us, he finally breaks.

“I’m Pastor Sire Rutledge.” He nods. “And you’reWren…?”

Hope makes me smile. I haven’t told anyone my last name yet, and Sire wants it so he can send me back to where I belong, but…

“I’m Wren. WrenChapel.”

I’m not going anywhere.

The Pastor’s lips part, realizing I’m right.

I belong with him.

CHAPTER THREE

SIRE