She’s not talking, either.
She’s just… there as though she doesn’t have any idea thatIam.
“It’s me, Haven,” I rasp out, stroking my thumb over the top of her hair. “It’s Connor. I found you. I fucking found you. And I’m gonna get you out of here.”
Still nothing, and it hits me that, no matter how bad I imagined things might be for Haven, this is so much fuckingworse.
This Haven… she’s not the one who used to roll her eyes and flounce away every time I flirted with her, trying to get her to notice me. She’s not the girl who bit me after I kissed her, and who I decided finally Claimed me back even if she had no idea that that’s what she was doing. She’s not the one who’s shown up, straight-backed and proud, to every Claiming ceremony, knowing that she would leave it again, forever rejected.
She’s altered. Changed. It’s like they threw her in a cell somewhere, locking her away, hoping the world would forget her. Like an oubliette, this room was meant to trap her until there was no one left who would remember her. Who would save her.
If so, they fucked up big time. They never counted on the fact that Connor Heyward’s been obsessed with this woman for so long, I would’ve searched for Haven forever to find her. And now that I have? I’m getting her out of here.
Now.
I start to reach for her when, finally, she does something to acknowledge my presence: she whimpers and draws away from another touch.
I don’t think I’ve ever heard Haven fucking Smith whimper once before in my life. With my next breath, I look at her. I mean, Ireallylook at her. Past the jutting cheeks and the cracked lips, the matted hair and the dirty clothes, and I finally notice the bare feet. The broken toe that’s almost as purple as her shirt. The bruises on her arms, her neck, her cheek… no wonder she flinches like that. She’s not just broken. She’s battered, too.
And I’m only sorry I can’t kill Cameron Andino again.
That’s okay. I know I have Johnny Winter on my kill list. Anyone else who was part of the ‘we’ that harmed Haven… I’m gunning for them next. But, first, I need her to understand that I willneverhurt her.
How can I when I fuckingworshipher?
To prove it, I drop down to my knees and murmur her name. “Haven.”
This isn’t the time for a flippant nickname. This is me being uncharacteristically serious because, if I don’t, I’m gonna fucking rip this warehouse apart with my bare hands, piece by piece, to let out some of the rage building inside of me.
She doesn’t say anything. I try not to think about what that Andino bastard said—and I have this urge to make sure that she really does have her tongue—but either way, she’s not talking.
I need to hear her. I need to know she’s with me…
“Haven? It’s Connor. Tell me you know me. Tell me youseeme.”
Just as fear starts creeping up my spine, Haven slowly lifts her head from the floor. For the first time since I found her in here, our eyes meet. The grey is so familiar, I start to relax—but then I notice that, like so much of Haven, they’re different, too.
They’reempty.
Haven…
Fuck me, when I see how truly blank her stare is, I think that might be the moment my heart actually breaks. When I have to admit that, while I’m getting her body out of here, I’m not sure how much of my Haven is coming with me.
She’s back there. Or what’s left of her is…
I think I finally get what Andino was trying to say?—
“Connor? We gotta go. Someone might’ve heard the gunshots, and we got that—” Dallas stops short, censoring himself even though I’m not so sure there’s a point as he says,“It’s in one of the empty rooms. Just in case the cops get called out to check, we need to be out of here.”
He’s right. Logically, I know he’s right. Dallas also has a lot more experience with murder than I do. Surprisingly, Cameron Andino was my first. As practiced as I am with my knife, no one’s died from it before, though it’s spilt more than its fair share of blood. I’m sure I’ll be amused by how easy it was to take a life later—mainly because I did it to avenge Haven even before I saw her like this—but, for now, I have to listen to the expert here.
“Haven,” I say softly, hoping like hell that, wherever she’s gone to in her mind, she can hear me. “We’re leaving now.”
Then, as carefully as I can without jostling her, I slide one arm behind her back and another beneath her knees. She doesn't fight me when I lift her. Doesn’t react again at all. In fact, she goes limp, and I squeeze her a little tighter as though I can give her all of my strength.
I turn. Dallas is there, and so is Bas. I quirk my eyebrows, a silent question.
“Adrian’s bringing the SUV around. He dragged Des out with him to keep an eye out for cops. He’ll call if we need to hunker down.”
