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Archer shifts closer to me, our knees touching, and grabs my hands.
I feel weak, though this is not the time to be a coward. I’ve trained for so many scenarios like this. In theory. Adrenalin is my weapon. I don’t usually panic, but the thought of hurting myself is heavy.
“I can handle anything they do to me,” Archer says, his eyes searching mine. I can’t read him, though his voice is consoling. “But they probably won’t dare. I’m their main trading card. But you, Kat—if they touch you, I won’t be able to forgive myself. You hear me?”
I nod absently, trying to gain courage.
Right, I have to think about myself.
“So we need to get out of here as soon as possible,” he says. “We have to. There’s no other way.”
He looks down as he massages my hands with his. Being hurt by others is always part of a scenario like this, but not deliberately inflicting pain on myself.
Slowly, Archer wraps my hands around his left one.
“I’ll need my right one. And I can’t do this to myself. You’ll have to. You are a pro, wild thing.”
A nervous chuckle escapes both of us—he wants me to do this tohim.
I exhale, pulling my hands away from him, and smooth my hair. The thought of hurting him is even more atrocious.
“Kat, baby, look at me.” He grabs my hands again, chains rattling in warning.
I meet his eyes. “Archer, it’s very painful. Not as bad as bones being broken, but still.”
“Kat, listen.” He inhales and exhales slowly, trying to control his breathing and summoning his courage as I keep his gaze, not letting him look away. He is determined. “We have to do this, okay?”
His right hand presses mine onto his left one and around his wrist and thumb like he knows exactly what has to be done.
“There’s no choice.”
He keeps talking as I admire my beautiful guy who puts his trust in me—me, who came her to spy on him.
“So, let’s take time and think it through. I can handle pain, trust me,” Archer says.
I don’t need to think it through. His voice is so calming that it grounds me, loading me with determination.
“I’ve had plenty of injuries before, a concussion, broken bones, and all that stuff. I can handle whatever— Aaaaaaaarhh!”
The roar that escapes him is less than subtle as in one powerful pressure movement I dislocate his joint and yank the metal toward me as he jerks his hand away, freeing it.
On instinct, he grabs his hand with the other one, but I yank it toward me and push on his joint to pop it back in place.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry, babe,” I start murmuring, holding his injured hand in mine, rubbing it as he tries to pull it away. “Sorry.”
Tears mist his widened eyes as he yanks his hand out of mine and lifts it in front of his face, staring in shock.
His eyes are wider than quarters, teeth biting his bottom lips as he grunts, closing his eyes to get through pulsating pain that I know—in theory—will subside within seconds.
I try to smile to reassure him. “So-so-so sorry, babe. I had to take you by surprise.”
But in a second, he takes my head between his hands and shuts me up with a kiss.
“Fuck, you are savage,” he murmurs, looking at me like I’ve blessed him. He pulls away and massages his hand, checking it again and again.
In a moment, he crawls toward the door as far as the chain allows him. I watch with anticipation. His arms are outstretched, the fingers of the left hand clawing at the floor as he—
Reaches the crevice in the concrete.
