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“Because you’re too weak to know how to win what you want. That’s why you’re in here.”
She backed away and then shot out her foot, kicking the glass with a snarl on her face.
I stared.
“Come on, Will,” she begged. “Stop the waiting and come on.”
She kicked the glass again and again, baring her teeth, and I almost smiled again, remembering that night in the lab. How she challenged us, so ready to face danger.
So tough. So cocky. I liked stubborn. I liked women who took control.
But then she spoke up again, inhaling hard and shallow. “It’s not my fault,” she bit out. “It’s not my fault that you wrapped your entire happiness up in some delusion you’d cooked up in your head where I loved you and life would be right as rain if we were together.”
My amusement fell, and I flexed my jaw.
“I did what I had to do, and I’d do it again,” she growled, her voice cracking. “I’d do it again.”
She gasped for breath and closed her eyes, dropping her forehead into the mirror and punching the glass. “I’d do it again,” she choked out, her voice thick with tears.
I moved my palm to hers, staring down at her, centimeters away as I rubbed her cheek with my thumb.
“No worries, baby,” I murmured. “I intend to deserve it this time.”
Excitement fluttered through my stomach, and I curled my fist, almost feeling her in it.
A knock sounded on the door, and it opened wide, Aydin entering and carrying a plate.
My heart hammered, and I watched as he stopped and looked at her, his golden, brown eyes dark with mischief.
“Are you hungry?” he asked her.
She shot her head up and whipped around like she hadn’t heard him knock. Unsheathing the knife, she held it tightly at her side, backing up to put more distance between him and her.
He set the plate and silverware down and looked up at her as he slipped his hands into his pockets. “I said I wouldn’t hurt you.”
“I don’t remember you saying that.”
“No?” He smiled. “Well, I meant to.”
He said no one would touch her. They weren’t synonymous, I’d learned here.
He gazed at her, and I folded my arms over my chest, watching him watch her and waiting for any movement.
But he simply drew in a deep breath and turned around.
“Eat,” he said, walking to the door. “And bathe. You’re filthy.”
He pointed to the white porcelain tub in the corner of the room.
“Or I’ll bathe you,” he warned over his shoulder. “And there’s five of me to hold you down.”
He closed the door, locking it, and she stood there for a moment, glancing from the door to me and back to the door again. Taking the chair at the desk, she fit it underneath the door handle as if that would keep us out, and then she walked over, lifting the plate up to her face.
She sniffed the pasta.
He wouldn’t poison her food. What fun would that be?
He was just getting started with her.
