“Az istenit!” he hissed, a touch of anger hinting in his timbre. He went silent for a long time, but I could feel his tension. Frustration. Worry.
He took a few breaths. A deep sigh, then the sound of him sliding down the same wall we shared. I swear I could feel the heat of him seeping through the stone and into my back. My spine flattened against the wall, craving his warmth and touch like a drug. I didn’t want words; I didn’t need platitudes. I just needed him. His arms around me, engulfing me, blanketing me, where I could no longer feel pain.
We sat in silence together for a while before I heard something slide over the ground, lifting my head to see a plate of food being pushed over to me. The tears I thought I had reined in threatened to appear, glazing my eyes.
He saved half his rations for me. Wiping my eyes with the heel of my hands, I felt my throat close even tighter.
“You have to eat, no matter what you feel. If we’re gonna get out of here…” His voice tapered off to the point it was barely a whisper, but I still heard him say. “I need you.”
A choked sob silently opened my mouth, a tear escaping.
He pushed the plate a little farther.
“Brex.” An order. A plea. So much packed into those four letters.
My stomach coiled and burned at the thought of food, but eventually I reached out, dragging the tray to me.
More than hearing it, I could feel his exhale slither over my skin. For a second, I could see him lean his head against the wall, his eyes closed, relief lowering his shoulders.
He had not lost me yet.
Whatever was on the plate tasted bland, dry, and old; my throat tried to gag it back up, but I forced down each swallow. I needed whatever fuel I could get to keep me physically going. I had so much blood drawn from me, I shouldn’t even be alive.
When I finished, I propped myself back up against the wall, shifting as close to the bars as I could, needing him to feel my gratitude. Not just for the food, but for being there… for always being there. Before I even knew him. Although, in some ways, I had known him my whole life.
Skating my hand through the bars, I reached as far as I could go. There was a beat, which seemed to last forever before his huge hand engulfed mine. It was warmth, comfort—home.
My entire body went lax from his touch. A whimper caught in my throat, my fingers wrapping hard around his like he was my only lifeline. It was the only thing keeping me from going under. From slipping into the complete darkness.
He kept me in the gray.
No words were necessary to explain what either of us had gone through. Although our link was depleted, I somehow still understood and sensed him, as I knew he could me. We just were. We had no doubts, no clarification, no fear of what was between us anymore. It was a safe place we could just be.
Threading his fingers through mine, another long exhale escaped my lungs as I slumped into the wall as if he were my own personal sedative and charging station at the same time.
“I love you.” I only said in my mind, not even trying to push through the bond. But I felt Warwick go still, his muscles locking up.
Fuck.
Did he hear me? Was it too soon? Did he not feel the same way? Hurt and rejection weeded through me as he yanked his hand away.
But it quickly flipped to alarm when he leaped to his feet, his energy throbbing with defensive energy.
With the padding of slipper shoes on the cement, a shadowy figure moved quickly down the corridor for us, causing me to scramble up as well, preparing for our visitor.
The figure of a woman came into view.
“Lena?” My brows wrinkled, not expecting to see her.
She put a finger to her mouth, peering over her shoulder nervously.
“I don’t have a lot of time.” Nerves rushed her voice, her tongue swiping over her lip. “I am taking a huge risk.”
“What are you doing here?” I moved closer to the bars.
“Better question. Who the fuck are you?” Warwick’s grumble could be felt under my feet, making her suck in a gulp of air, her eyes widening at his penetrating voice and massive frame. Even behind bars, he made men who could turn into monsters piss their pants. But Lena gulped down her fear, swiping it from her features, though I could see her hands trembling.
I had forgotten he wasn’t with us when we met Lena and Emil in the pub, and we didn’t have time to get into all the details now.
“She’s a friend,” I stressed. It was a question, a challenge. Lifting my eyebrows, I waited for her response.
“I wouldn’t have risked coming here if I wasn’t.” She swallowed, glancing again over her shoulder, nervous energy twitching her feet and hands. “But I can’t stand aside; they wouldn’t want me to.” Her voice broke at the end.
“Who wouldn’t?”
Her eyes lifted to mine, watery and grieved. “Emil is gone.”
“Gone?” Dread sunk my stomach.
“His wife told me he was ordered to do something for General Markos a week ago. He never came back.”
“Do you know for what?”
She shook her head. “No, and I know not to even ask.” She brushed at her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. “I think he’s dead.”
Sorrow bowed my head; I wasn’t sure how to respond. Comforting people wasn’t something I was used to. “You don’t know that.”
She scoffed, using her long skirt to pat at her eyes again.
“Let’s not bullshit each other.” She cleared her throat. Stern. To the point. “The land of hopes and dreams is for people who can afford the luxury of wishing. My brother is most likely dead. My children have been threatened, and if I don’t do everything Markos wants…” Her steady gaze met mine. There were no longer tears or grief. “He will kill my mother.”
I jerked back. “What?” The image of a short, sweet woman with kind yet stern eyes, a mini version of the woman I considered a grandmother, stood before me.
My lids closed briefly, my head shaking, realizing I underestimated Istvan’s conniving ways again.
“I am always ten steps ahead, Brexley. Always.”
“I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier.”
“What?” Lena asked me.
“It’s why you and Emil were even picked for this job in the first place. He had you marked from the beginning.” I ran my hands through my snarls, pinching my scalp in frustration. I felt so stupid. “Istvan doesn’t do anything without a reason. With Maja living under his roof, he had knowledge of your family, and he knew all he had to do was push down on a pressure point, and you would have to do everything he asked.”
She glanced down with a dip of her head, as if she felt the burden of all of this.
“I owe you a lot, Brexley. However, my family comes first. Whatever I have to do, I will do.” It was a warning.
“What is happening?” Warwick snarled, his hands wrapping tighter around the bars. “Do you know?”
Her mouth tightened, a slight tremor in her jaw at his violent energy. “In my debt to you.” She faced me. “I came here to warn you, warn both of you. Tomorrow evening, the leaders from Bucharest, Prague, and I think Ukraine will be coming here.”
“Why?” My voice strangled out, trepidation souring the food lumping in my stomach.