He rolls his hips into me, and just as I'm reaching my snapping point, someone clears their throat loudly from behind me.
Xavier releases me, and I take a few steps away, immediately correcting my disheveled dress from his groping. When I risk a glance up, I find Rio standing beside me, hands linked behind his back and a neutral expression on his face.
"Excuse my intrusion," he says, bowing his head for a moment. "I'm required to change the dressings on her back before the event. It's also time for you to head into the red room," he informs, his tone clinical but pleasant.
Xavier straightens his jacket, casting me a look I refuse to meet. It burns the side of my face as he dips his chin in acknowledgment, before taking off. Flicking my eyes to Rio again, he nods his head towards the kitchen entryway, which leads back toward a bathroom.
Still shaking, I follow in step, hoping I'm not too unsteady and roll my ankles in these heels. Francesca would probably reopen my stitches herself from a stupid mistake like that.
Even after we enter the bathroom, we keep quiet, and he shuts the door behind us. My shoulders relax a smidge now that we’re alone.
I wonder when Rio started feeling safe.
But I'll admit, I'm grateful. He's not an ally by any means, but he's the least of my enemies in this fucking house.
“What the hell is the red room?” I question.
Rio glances at me. “A room in the back of the house full of tarp and torture devices. I’m sure you can conclude why they’ve dubbed it the red room,” he answers dryly.
I swallow. “Are they… taking Phoebe and Bethany back there?” I ask.
“Yes. It’s only used for those who fail the Culling.”
My chest clenches and my stomach twists. They’re doing unspeakable things to them right now, and that makes me fucking sick.
“Turn around,” he demands.
I narrow my eyes, not appreciating the way he’s ordering me around. Noting the look on my face, he sighs, and says, “Por favor.”
Flattening my lips, I turn.
"Why did you save me anyway?" I ask quietly, peeking over my shoulder to watch him dig out the first aid kit from beneath the sink and set it on the yellowed countertop. I'm sure they were white back in their heyday.
"What makes you think I saved you?" he counters, glancing at me as he digs out bandages and Neosporin. "You're going to have to lift up your dress."
I sigh, doing as he asks. I know the drill with him, and this isn't the first time I’ve had to expose my body so he can change the bandages. I hike the dress up underneath my armpits, and it makes me sad how desensitized I’ve become to baring myself to men.
I’m wearing a thong, but that might as well be nothing with how scrappy it is. Slowly, he unlaces the corset, and with each loop undone, I can breathe a little easier. When it falls from my torso, I suck in a deep breath, the bliss almost painful. My stomach is red and indented from how tightly Francesca laced it.
“You have to re-lace that, you know,” I tell him.
He grunts. “Then you better be nice. I can make that tighter than she did.”
A shiver rolls down my spine when his fingers brush against me, picking at the tape until he catches the edge and peels the old bandages from my skin.
"So, you're going to act like needing to change these wasn't intentional?" I prod. "You just changed them before the party." Which was only two hours ago.
"Would you like me to leave you next time?" he volleys back, his tone tight and a tad impatient.
"No," I whisper.
"Then accept it for what it is and shut the fuck up about it."
I snap my mouth closed. This time, I have no problem listening to his demands. Regardless of him wanting to admit it, he saw Xavier getting handsy, and stepped in. Something that is very unlike a human trafficker to do. I'd rather just be grateful for the intrusion than question him, and then he never does it again.
Lord fucking knows this won't be the last time a man will get too handsy. And that knowledge makes my skin crawl.
Rio is the reason I'm in this situation to begin with. Or at least one of the reasons. He played a massive role in it, and that's something I'll never forget. But I also won’t forget the little bits of kindness he showed me when he'll soon be facing the barrel of Zade's gun.
I don’t know if I can spare his life, but I'll try to make sure his death is quick.
Clearing my throat, I wet my dry lips. “Are you going to help Phoebe and Bethany, too?”
He sighs. “I can’t help them.”