Page 40 of Fallen Hero

Please, Kiara.

Calista’s fingers curled into the waistband of my pants before I heard her short nails clicking on my phone’s screen.

Then in English, “You know. I have to tell.” The voice sounded pained. That had to be Kiara. “Clean.”

“We’ll take them both.” That came from behind me.

Of course Calista would want to take both. One girl was going to be hard enough to control and smuggle out of the area.

I turned my head, leaned down, and at the same time, Calista leaned forward and crowded me. Once I had her ear, through the fabric I whispered, “Text. We have the prize plus one. Side entrance now.”

She started nodding after the word text, and by the time I got to now, she was doing it rapidly.

Simple and stupid, famous last words.

My attention went back to the two women. Kiara was telling the crying girl to hurry and clean. Her pleas were frantic now. As a senior girl, she would be responsible if the other girl didn’t get back on the street. She’d be punished. I could practically feel Kiara’s fear.

We needed to hurry. As if on cue, Calista tapped my shoulder.

I looked back over my shoulder while at the same time, Calista was coming up on her toes. Her mouth collided with my jaw. Instead of flinching, her lips brushed over my cheek.

It was not my proudest moment. Neither was it reasonable how my body reacted to her lips on me. But there it was, a flash of awareness. A spark that if stoked would blaze wild and out of control. A flicker that needed to be doused immediately, and it didn’t help when Calista’s whisper came out breathy.

“Fallon said two minutes.”

Jesus. Fuck me.

“We’re gonna have to be quick. You grab the smaller of the two.”

I felt Calista stiffen, and I knew she wanted to give me shit but settled on lifting her right hand and presenting her middle finger.

Seriously. I liked this chick.

I covered that up with a scowl, jerked my head toward the door, and didn’t bother counting down. Calista didn’t need it. She’d follow me in, and when she did, she’d take care of business.

That was a mistake. I should’ve counted down and reminded myself what I was walking into. Not that a three-second pep talk would’ve done shit to prepare me for the sight before us.

The girl, I mean girl, was fucked up—torn lip, blood smeared from her chin up to her swollen eye. Hair matted with either blood or something else I wasn’t going to allow myself to think about, or my earlier restraint would snap, and I’d burn this motherfucking building to ash.

Kiara gave a squeak of shock when she saw us. I scanned her face, looking for the mole that would positively identify her. The three inches of makeup caked on her face made it difficult, but there under the layers of foundation was the mark.

Calista was already pulling the injured girl to her side by the time I got in front of a trying-to-make-a-run-for-it Kiara.

She opened her mouth to scream, my hand went over her mouth, and I swung her up into my arms. Christ. She weighed nothing. A skinny bag of bones.

“Move.”

But I didn’t need to order Calista to get her ass downstairs. With her arm around the girl, she was dragging her to the door.

Kiara struggled in my arms.

This was the worst part—the struggle. It wouldn’t matter what I said to her, she was too scared to hear, too traumatized to comprehend I was there to save her. That her nightmare was ending, and the struggle to heal was on the horizon.

I let Calista go in front of me, leaving a few steps between us in case Kiara kicked or punched so she wouldn’t hit the other two women.

Calista was almost at the bottom when the girl came out of her stupor and fight-or-flight kicked in. She swung her fist in a wide arc, clocking Calista on the side of the face. Her head barely moved with the impact.

“It’s okay. You’re safe,” Calista cooed.