I’m alone in the room, and somehow it’s more terrifying than Boscoe’s overwhelming presence.
Before I can guess what’ll happen next, someone races into the room.
Dax rushes over, lowers to his knees, and skids to a stop before me. His hands cup the sides of my face, and wrinkles gather around his eyes. “Oh, Sass. Why did you come here?”
He rests his forehead against mine as I reply with gushing tears. His fingers comb through my hair, and my anxiety lowers from his closeness.
When his lips press against mine, they’re dry and cracked. I gasp and pull away. “You’re not doing well.”
“It doesn’t matter,” he replies, moving his hands down to my binds. “Getting you out of here comes first.”
“Dax,” I whisper harshly. “You just collapsed. They won’t do anything to me, or they lose their bargaining power. You need rest.”
“I won’t get that here. And you’re crazy if you think I’m walking away from you.”
“Boscoe said you had five minutes.”
“Don’t worry about him. I can handle it.”
“He watches every time someone beats you. Why would he help you now?”
Dax shrugs. “Because he’s never been the one that hits me.”
I gulp, giving up the minuscule control I have left.
Dax pats down his jacket. “He took away my knife. McCoy is good with knots, but I’ll try my best to untie you.”
“Are you sure we can get out in time?”
“No, but I can’t just leave you like this.”
Dax hurries his fingers around the rope, trying to pull the knot apart. There’s a tremor in his hand, and he brushes the sweat off his forehead.
“Dax.” My voice quivers. “You’re so pale, and you’re shaking.”
Dax grunts, clearing his throat. “I’m okay.”
As he continues to fight against the knots, the door pushes open and Boscoe trudges into the room. My gut plummets as the burly man glares at us.
“Kid,” Boscoe’s gruff voice calls out. “Don’t make me regret this.”
Boscoe disappears again, and Dax’s shoulders slouch. “The knots are too tight, anyhow. I can’t get them loose.”
I shiver, looking at the vacant doorway. “Is he coming back?”
Dax lifts onto his knees and caresses my face. “It was just a warning. We have time.”
My bottom lip betrays me with twitches. “And then what?”
Dax frowns, getting up and scratching his hand through his hair.
Fear floods my veins. “Dax?”
He turns his back on me, muttering, “Give me a minute to think.”
I fidget in the seat, suppressing the sobs in my throat.
My ears prick at a clicking sound. Dax then bobs his head down, and I realize he’s lighting a cigarette. When he turns back around, his frame hunches and the bags under his eyes appear gray. He unsteadily lowers to the concrete floor, and the ashy smell sends me grimacing.
