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Before she can say anything, I add, “I’d say that makes me fucking God to you, because I’m keeping you alive. Every breath you’ve taken since the moment I took you from that bunker is down to me. Every ray of sun that’s touched your skin is because of me. Every second. Every hour. Every fucking gloriously fucked-up day…is all me. You understand?”
She tries to push away from me, teeth clenched so hard they’re grinding. But I hold her tighter. Harder.
“Do. You. Understand?”
Eyes holding mine, she doesn’t reply.
“Answer me!” I shake her enough that all the angry tension falls from her. “Now!”
Still, she doesn’t reply.
She wants to play it like this? Fine.
Letting her go, I take a step back, looking her from head to toe before I head for the truck.
I get in and pull the gun from the glove box as I start the engine. Without another word I throw it onto the ground, preparing to drive off.
I rev once. Then again. I’m about to follow through on my threat when she yells, “Yes.”
Good. She’s learning.
Reversing a bit, I park the Jeep across the path, close enough to the front door that if we need to bolt it’s less of a mission for her.
When I get out, I stand in front of her, taking all of her in because I feel all that anger she’s holding on to so damn tight that it’s almost a fucking tease. Any doubts I had about her tenacity are drowned out by her steadfast glare.
Without releasing the tether of her gaze, she lowers herself, picking up the weapon I threw at her before. When she stands, with the slightest wobble, she slams it to my chest with enough force that I feel the impact vibrate across my ribs.
“You might think you’re boss. That you’re God. But at the end of the day, you’re still following a dead man’s orders. You’re still dancing to his tune. So, really, who’s God, Ryan?”
She raises one wicked brow at me, shrugging like she wasn’t falling to pieces a minute ago. It should piss me off, but if anything, it makes me admire her.
With deliberate slowness, she heads to the door. Lowering to her knees, she rummages around until she finds a loose stone. She lifts it without a care for all the critters that crawl from under it and digs around the dirt before producing a key.
It takes her a moment to get back to her feet, ignoring the hand I offer to help her up.
Stubborn, stubborn woman.
When she’s cleaned up the key and inserted it into the lock, she steps away from the door.
“You can go first, Mr. Almighty. Wouldn’t want to get in the way of your complex.”
What she means is that the rusty key’s going to need a bit of force to turn the lock.
Holstering the weapon in my hand, I help her out, opening the door and taking a good look around the place before I step back to let her in first.
The hairs on the back of my neck prickle as though we’re being watched, and my instinct is to grab Fleur and get the fuck out
of here. I can hear Casper’s pissed-off voice gritting at me to follow that sixth sense, but I push it down regardless.
Getting away from here now or staying put and putting up a fight is pretty much the same thing—the latter a probable better option. Deep breaths fill my lungs, burning my insides with my awareness chilling my skin.
It’s Fleur’s sharp gasp that has me drawing the guns holstered at my sides. Heat permeates through my skin, heightening the alarm bells bristling all over me.
I slam my forearm to the back of the door we’ve just come through, smashing it shut and plunging us into darkness.
“Open the door!” she growls, pushing past me and yanking it open before I can stop her. Fleur stands doubled over in the doorway, her hands clawing at the splintering wood. “Why?” She pulls in a half-suffocated breath.
“Get in.”
