I caught sight of her out of the corner of my eye. She’d rolled over and faced me now. Her eyes were open, sunken and ringed in dark, but their green centers sparkled behind a veil of tears and it sucked the rage from my body. Life. There was still life there. That’s what I was seeing, wasn’t it? God damn it, there had to be. No way was it just a figment of my own desperate imagination.
“Don’t look, Scar,” I whispered in a voice so raw with emotion it didn’t sound like me.
She closed her eyes obediently. Was that because it was me? Or because there wasn’t an ounce of free will left in her?
I grabbed a dirty, bloody towel off the floor and shoved it in the bastard’s mouth to shut him up. He would die slowly. The bite to his throat would make sure of that. I leaned down next to the other man and placed my hands on either side of his head, right where they needed to be for the twist that came next.
Snap. And he was dead. Then I forced their miserable existence from my mind.
I approached her slowly, arms at my sides, palms out. I wanted to rush to her and gather her in my arms, but I was afraid of how she’d react. Would she just see a large figure coming at her, touching her, hurting her?
“Scar?” I whispered as I knelt down in front of her.
It was several long, agonizing seconds before she opened her eyes, but when she did, she stared straight ahead at my knee.
I reached down slowly to brush her hair off her forehead. She grimaced, but she didn’t pull away. I wasn’t oblivious to the need to get her out of there. With guards crawling all over the place, the threat was far from neutralized. But I had absolutely no fucking idea what to do.
The bastards on the floor, they were simple. I’d known exactly what to do to them. Hell, if I’d had more time, I would have cut them up into hundreds of pieces, one careful bit at a time so they’d survive every minute of it.
But how the hell was I supposed to help Scar? Pull her to her feet and drag her along with me?—would she understand what I was doing? Pick her up and carry her out?—where could I touch her that wouldn’t hurt her?
“I’m so fucking sorry, but I need you here with me, Scar, just for a few minutes. I have to get you out of here now.”
She blinked and finally, she looked up at me. “Just…go,” she croaked in a raspy whisper.
My heart broke seeing the resignation in her eyes, hearing it in her voice. It was even worse than seeing her broken and bloodied body. Was I too late?
No fucking way, I decided. She was strong. We would find a way for her to heal. I’d failed her; I’d let these monsters get to her, but this wouldn’t be the end for her. This would not be how life ended for the girl who deserved so much more than the world had ever given her.
“No. If you die here, then I die with you.” I sat back on my ass to make it clear I meant it and hoped to hell that still meant something to her. That she could even understand what I was saying.
The first flicker of something stirred in her eyes. “N-no,” she stuttered as fresh tears slipped cross her temple and soaked into her hair. But she made no effort to move.
“Scar, you will heal. I promise you will. No matter what they…” I couldn’t say it. My heart lodged in my throat, and I couldn’t force the words out. “Please,” I choked out instead.
Was that a nod? It looked like it, and her small hand pressed against the floor as if she was trying to push herself up. Yes, I knew it. At least, I’d hoped. But the proof was right in front of me. Nothing could beat Scar. She had a life to her that was made of fucking steel.
All of a sudden her eyes went wide, and she was no longer looking at me. Her whole body trembled as her eyes fixed on something behind me.
Not something. Someone. I didn’t have to look to know.
Fuck! My phone hadn’t vibrated once since I’d been in the stairway. It had been a trap, but I hadn’t come this far only to fail her again. As discreetly as I could, I withdrew my gun from its holster.
“Drop the gun, Senor Vaughan,” an unfamiliar voice spoke from behind.
I placed it down carefully, right in front of her, and I met her eyes until I was reasonably certain she understood what I was trying to tell her. “Kill the mother fuckers, Scar,” I’d screamed with my eyes. And as much as it fucking killed me to think it, it was a last resort, too. To make sure she could escape…one way or another.