Page 51 of Scorched Veil
I shoot the lock off after a couple of goes, the sound deafening in the concrete corridor. Then I slam my shoulder into the door once, twice, the frame cracks on the third hit, and I stumble through.
The room is cold and gray and lit by a single bulb hanging from a wire.
She's there.
Hanging from a hook by her wrists, a rope looped through cuffs that have rubbed the skin raw. The white dress is torn at the shoulder and soaked dark from the chest down. There are cuts across her collarbone, her arms, her ribs, shallow and precise like someone took their time. Her bare feet don't touch the floor. Her head hangs forward and her hair is stuck to her face with dried blood.
My knees almost give out, my heart breaks, and I want to murder everyone.
What have they done to you?
For one second that lasts a lifetime, I think she's dead, and I'm too late. This is not where our story ends, with me standing in a concrete room staring at the body of the only person I've ever loved while the world keeps turning above us.
Then she lifts her head.
Her eyes are swollen and unfocused, but they find me. They find me, and my heart breaks open inside my chest. I will never be able to put it back together.
"Kairo …" My name on her lips is barely a whisper, but I hear the hope in the tone.
I cross the room, and the knife is already in my hand. I reach up and cut the rope above the cuffs. She falls forward, and I catch her. She collapses against me, and I go down to my knees with her, one arm around her back, the other cradling the back of her skull, pulling her into my chest. She's so light, as if she weighs nothing. She's shaking so hard I can feel it in my teeth.
"I've got you." My voice cracks as I press my mouth against her hair, and I can smell blood and sweat underneath. "I've got you, baby. I'm here. No one is ever going to hurt you again. You’re safe.”
She sobs against my neck as her fingers find my shirt and grip it like she's drowning and I'm the only solid thing left. I can feel the blood from her cuts soaking through my shirt, warm and wet against my chest.
"They sold me," she whispers. "Again.”
"I know, baby." I hold her tighter. "I know everything."
"Castellano, he …” she says before passing out.
“Don’t worry about him, his time on this earth is over,” I say as I kiss her forehead, her temple, the bruise forming along her jaw. "Nobody is ever touching you again."
I strip off my jacket and wrap it around her shoulders. I lift her, and she curls into me, her face pressing into my neck, one hand still fisted in my shirt. I carry her up the stairs, through the corridor, and I don't look at the bodies on the floor, they mean nothing to me.
Andreas meets me at the top of the stairs. His face goes white when he sees the blood on the dress, the cuts, the bruising.
"Doc’s on the plane," he says. "Ready when you are."
"Her father and brother?” I sneer.
"We've got them. Back office, second floor, two of our guys are on them."
"Take her." I try to hand Summer to Andreas, and her fingers tighten on my shirt so hard the fabric tears.
"No." Her voice is small and fierce. "Don't leave me."
"Baby, I need five minutes."
"Kairo, please." She's crying again, her whole body rigid with fear. "Please don't leave me."
My jaw clenches, and I look at Andreas. He reads my face and nods.
"Bring them to me," I say. "Down here, now."
They drag Mario Rayne into the corridor first. He looks smaller, gray-faced, sweating through his shirt, his eyes darting everywhere except at his daughter. Storm comes next, limping, one of my men has already worked him over, and there's blood running from a split above his eye. They dump them both on the floor ten feet from where I'm standing with Summer in my arms.
She sees them and goes still.
