Page 49 of Undying Resilience
He doesn’t touch her—probably doesn’t want to get blood on the blankets—but he kisses her again. Then he says, “Go. This is going to take some time, but I want to get you home as soon as possible.”
Rhett watches her go with a hardened stare. He’s barely looked at me since they saved us downstairs.
When I set my plan in motion, I knew I’d be hurting him and Ell. Not only did they have to worry about Wren, but they were scared for my safety, too. I told myself I’d never put them in that type of situation again, but everything changed when Wren came into our lives.
Rhett’s angry. And I know Elliot is, too. He’s just better at hiding it. But I won’t apologize for leading them to Wren sooner. I can’t. Because if I’m being honest, I’d do it again.
She looks back as Elliot leads her away, and when she meets my gaze, I smile for her. The light that’s usually in her eyes is gone, but it’ll show up eventually. We’ll help her bring it back.
But first, we need to deal with the men who took it from her in the first place.
Chapter fifteen
Rhett
Elliot takes Wren upstairs, making sure to keep her wrapped up in blankets. She still looks miserably cold. If I knew Jordan would survive, I’d beat him until he was covered in blood and pissing himself for what he’s done to her. But if Wren wants to be the one to kill him, I won’t take that away from her—no matter how much I want to.
Oliver has already grabbed a knife from the kitchen. He’s tapping it against his palm, eyeing the men in front of us. Everyone is awake now, and all four men look terrified.
Good.
“I’ll take him.” Oliver nods to the man to the left of Jordan. “You can have the other two.”
I was going to claim two of them anyway, so I grunt in agreement.
All of them have their wrists tied to the arms of the chairs. Oliver slams his knife into his guy’s hand, smiling when he screams. If I wasn’t so pissed off at Oliver, I might smile too.
I look at the two men to the right of Jordan. One has already wet himself, and the other is crying. I’d say it’s pathetic, but considering the hell I’m about to put them through, their fear is warranted.
When I step up to the one who’s crying, he starts sobbing harder. Slowly, I slice through the front of his shirt, cutting the fabric but not touching his skin. Not yet.
“Those are some nice tattoos you have,” I say, staring at the ink stretching across his chest. “Great linework. Wonder what it’d look like if it was done in red.”
“Wh-what?” he chokes out, squirming in his seat.
“Your tattoos,” I reply, resting the tip of my blade against his skin. “Red. Instead of black.”
He shakes his head frantically, and then he whimpers when I drag my knife along a line on one of his tattoos. Blood flows from the cut, staining his skin.
“We were just following orders,” he cries.
“Complacency isn’t the great excuse you think it is.”
“You know how it is, man. I’ve got bills to pay.”
I shake my head. “Not anymore, you don’t.”
. . .
By the time Oliver and I are done, the floor is soaked with blood, and Jordan has passed out from a combination of injuries and fear.
It’s over. Wren’s safe. Oliver’s safe. But whenever I start to think that his plan worked, that it got us to Wren faster, I remember the way Elliot looked when he realized Oliver was gone. It broke my heart, seeing him like that again.
Oliver tosses his knife to the floor, staring at the mess we’ve made. I come up to him, grabbing his shoulder and turning him to me. It’s the first time I’ve touched him since I pulled him away from Wren earlier.
“I’m glad you’re safe,” I say. “But I’m so goddamned angry with you. This was a stupid fucking idea, O. I don’t care that it worked. Never ever do something like this again.”
Oliver remains silent, and a hollow sensation I haven’t felt in years expands in my chest.