Page 112 of Ash Storm

Reka

Reka squeezed a dollop of shampoo in the center of her palm and lathered it up in her hands.

She worked the shampoo gently into Chloe’s hair and scalp, starting around the hairline, in the front and at the nape, and using her fingertips and palms to massage it towards the crown in a circular motion.

Chloe gave a little moan.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” Reka said. She’d never washed anybody’s hair before, but Chloe was still too weak to do it herself, and it was the only thing she’d asked of Reka when they’d gotten back …

You were about to say home.

She shook her head quickly.

This wasn’t home. She had to stop thinking of it as such.

So much had happened, and everything had happened so quickly, Reka’s head was still spinning.

Dark had stayed behind to wait for Thorne. Together, they’d waited until the others were out of the country before contacting Interpol, who’d arrived and taken charge of Alistair.

Afsan’s dead body hadn’t caused as much of an uproar as might have been expected, in either the UK or Turkey. News was already spreading of his wrong-doings, and neither country wanted to be involved.

Although Chloe had still been unconscious when they’d arrived at the small private airport, Slate had pronounced her physically healthy enough to travel back to Zurich, where Carrie had already had an ambulance waiting to take her to a private hospital.

Except for Rogue, whose burns had needed to be seen to at the hospital, the rest of the men had chosen to get patched up by Slate instead. They all seemed to share a mistrust of hospitals—or perhaps of institutions in general.

The whole time they’d been in the hospital, the men had taken turns standing guard outside Chloe’s room, where she and Chloe were both sleeping. Even though there was no longer any danger, Reka knew why they were doing it. They wanted her and Chloe to feel safe again.

Safe.

That wasn’t going to be easy for Chloe.

Reka hadn’t left Chloe’s side. She’d slept in an armchair in the room, showered in the small hospital bathroom, and ordered her meals up from the hospital room service. She’d thought often of Ash, and of that incredible kiss they’d shared before he’d passed out from blood loss—the stupid man—and knew he’d been the one who’d spent the longest time hanging out outside her room, but she hadn’t approached him, and he hadn’t tried to approach her either.

He seemed to understand, without her saying anything, that Chloe came first. The thought that he understood her so well made her feel warm and tingly inside.

Earlier today, Chloe had been discharged from the hospital. Pascale and Carrie had driven them back to the team’s Zurich headquarters, where they’d both settled into the blue room that had originally been assigned to Reka.

Physically, Chloe was going to be fine. She’d lost a lot of weight she couldn’t afford to lose, and she’d be on antibiotics for a while, but she was going to be okay.

Emotionally, that was a different matter, but her doctors at the hospital—all of them hyper-competent professionals—had left her with an entire Rolodex of psychologists and therapists she could call, should she stay in Zurich.

Reka, too, had been speaking to her contacts to connect Chloe to the best people, back in Chicago.

“That feels wonderful. Thank you, Reka,” Chloe said quietly. She hadn’t cried at all yet, and that was one of the things that worried Reka.

Closure.

How is Chloe ever going to get closure?

She and Reka hadn’t spoken to the police, because the team had made sure nobody knew they’d even been there. Whatever explanations Thorne and Dark had given for the Chimera Force team being in Wiltshire at the time of Afsan’s death, she and Chloe hadn’t featured, and Reka was grateful for that.

Reka ran some warm water across Chloe’s scalp, then lathered up her hands again for a second run. She took the chance that Chloe’s eyes were closed to look at her friend’s body. She’d always been slim, but now her ribs and hips showed almost obscenely. There were a couple of deep scratches on her arms that might scar. But, mainly, the wounds would all be on the inside.

Tears rolled down Reka’s cheeks. She wiped at them awkwardly with the back of her hand, not wanting to get soap into her eyes. Chloe, of course, noticed.

“He didn’t touch me. Not like that. He was getting too much pleasure out of my fear—he thought once he raped me, I would no longer be as afraid of him,” Chloe said quietly. “Thank you for not giving up on me, Reka. Thank you for coming for me.”

Chloe’s words were the powder igniting Reka’s guilt.