Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
And now I’m here.
Locked up.
Useless.
Do they even know I’m missing?
They’re probably still dealing with Daniela’s situation. Immigration. Legal threats. All of it piling up at once.
Hawk will be buried in it.
And Belinda—
My breath catches.
Belinda.
God, I hope she’s okay.
Her face flashes in my mind. That look of lost innocence in her eyes. I recognized it the first time I saw her. You don’t get that kind of look unless something’s been taken from you. Our family knows what happened to her. What her father did to her.
No one knows about what happened to me in Europe. I never told them. I was embarrassed by my own stupidity, by what I did to survive.
It feels like another life sometimes. Another version of me. One I keep locked down tight and buried.
I intend to keep it that way.
I’m not that girl anymore.
I survived that.
I can survive this.
The sound of footsteps pulls me out of my thoughts. They stop just outside the cell.
I turn my head.
He’s back. The handsome one. My heart jolts.
He stands there, one hand resting lightly against the bars, his expression blank. The last time we spoke he at least seemed human. Slightly warm. Now?
Nothing.
“I know Zabala was here,” he says.
“Yeah,” I rasp. “I noticed.”
His jaw goes tight. “I’m sorry.”
I blink.
That’s not what I expected.
“He wasn’t supposed to be assigned to you,” he continues. “He shouldn’t have been in here.”
I let out a short breath. “Seems he didn’t get that memo.”
“I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,” he says.
I study him.
Try to read him. Is this real? Or a game? I don’t even know his name yet.
That’s easy enough to remedy. “Who are you?” I ask.
“Cruz. Cruz Moreno.”
I shrug. “Good to know.”
Because what else am I supposed to say?
He draws in a breath. “I need to restrain you to the bed.”
My jaw drops and I stare at him. “What? Why? It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”
No reaction.
Just that same unreadable look.
“Cruz,” I say, trying not to think about how his name fits him. “Give me one good reason, and I won’t fight you.”
Something flashes in his dark eyes. Is he conflicted? Good. That means there’s still something human left in there.
Finally, “The fact that I’m telling you to do it is reason enough.”
My stomach drops.
“You’re forgetting who the prisoner is here,” he continues.
I hold his gaze. “I’m not forgetting anything.”
“Then act like it.”
I straighten as much as I can, even though I’m dehydrated and sore and stuck in a cell. “No.”
“No?”
“No,” I say again, stronger this time. “You want to tie me to a bed? You tell me why.”
“I don’t need to explain myself to you.”
“Maybe not,” I shoot back. “But if you expect me to just lie down and let you—”
He steps closer to the bars. “Look at you,” he says quietly.
I freeze.
“Look at your muscles,” he continues. “You’re exhausted. Dehydrated. You think you’re in a position to fight me?”
Heat flares in my chest. “I’ve been in worse positions.”
He furrows his brow for a moment, darts his eyes back down the hall. Then he closes his eyes, inhales slowly. “This can go one of two ways,” he says. “Easy. Or hard.”
I let out a slow breath. “I’ve never taken the easy way out. And I’m not about to start now.”
“Then don’t.” He reaches for the lock.
My pulse spikes.
The metal clicks.
The door creaks open.
And Cruz steps inside.
12
CRUZ
Robin doesn’t flinch. Not a bit.
I hate this.
Every step I take toward her feels wrong. But I keep going anyway because that’s what I do. Because that’s what I’ve always done.
Follow orders.
Even when they rot something inside me.
“I meant what I said,” she tells me, her voice rough but steady. “You’re not doing this without a fight.”
Admiration flicks through me. She’s exhausted. Dehydrated. She shouldn’t have anything left in her.
But still she’s ready to fight.
What would she be like outside in the world? Not locked up and at my mercy?
I’ve always wanted kids.
And Robin… She’d be a good mother. Firm. Unyielding when she needs to be. But not cruel. Not like the men in this place. She’d know where the line is. She’d make them behave without breaking them.
Like my mother did.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
Her voice cuts through my thought, and I blink. I shake off the dread I’m feeling, burying it where it belongs.
“Get up,” I say.
“Make me,” she shoots back.
I step closer.
If I do this fast enough, I can keep it contained. Control the damage. Get her restrained without—
Without what?
Without hurting her?
That’s already out the window.
She’s going to get hurt. But if I’m in control, I can minimize it.
I reach for her wrist. When I close my fingers around it, she moves, raking her nails across my skin before I can adjust.
“Damn it,” I mutter, tightening my grip.
She twists, trying to pull free. With her other hand, she swings, catching my shoulder, not hard enough to do real damage but enough to throw me off balance for a second.