Page 4 of Tarnished

And I’d failed. I hadn’t even been enough to fucking rescue her.

I sighed and leaned my head back, staring up at the darkened ceiling. These men didn’t seem like the types to ask me any questions, but I had hope that I might survive this and could get Clarke somewhere safe—somewhere far away from our parents. Putting me in this cold basement had to mean they weren’t looking to kill me, right? Or at least not right away.

I just needed to get Clarke somewhere safe. That was it. That was my only goal—had been my only goal for months now. I had money saved—enough to get us out of the country. And I’d been working with Tom, the cool nerd from high school, for just as long, getting me and Clarke fake IDs and passports.

I didn’t know how my dad and stepmother were involved in this, but they had to be. It was the only thing that made sense to me. I’d seen them cry in front of numerous cameras and reporters, begging for whoever took Clarke to just bring her back home, but I’d also seen how quickly those tears dried up after the cameras were off of them. Dad hadn’t missed a day of work. Amber hadn’t missed a moment of shopping and socializing. Even the day Clarke went missing, they’d kept to their routines.

Their lives were still too normal. How did your daughter get kidnapped and you just lived as if everything was okay? Because I hadn’t been okay since I got that fucking phone call.

A part of me had been missing until I laid eyes on her again. And every day I watched her fight, heard her screaming, sobbing, begging for help, had torn me to fucking shreds. She knew I was there, and the one time I’d thought to intervene, she’d silently begged me with her eyes not to. Even though she would suffer, she and I both knew we wouldn’t make it out alive if I was uncovered.

I’d had to play it safe. And I’d thought I would’ve had a chance to get her loose and hide her until those bikers left, but I hadn’t moved fast enough—not for those men. They were trained and moved even quicker. The number of bodies I’d seen lying on those white floors, blood covering the walls and ceilings and pooling beneath my shoes had turned my stomach.

They were trained killers, and I knew they were just as dangerous as the traffickers that had stolen Clarke. And now, we were both in their hands. And while I didn’t think they’d harm Clarke, my hopes weren’t high. They’d rescued her, sure. But what were their plans with her now?

I hung my head, my throat working as I swallowed.

I just needed her to be safe. As long as she was safe and protected… well, I didn’t give a fuck about what happened to me.

4

Clarke

My eyes snapped open, my heart already racing, panic clawing at my throat before I even fully came awake. The mattress beneath me was not one of the hard, threadbare, stained ones I’d been laying on for the past few months. The room was warm, unlike the bone-deep cold I’d become used to. And the scent of disinfectant and blood and sex was replaced with men’s cologne and lavender.

“Easy, little one,” a deep voice rumbled from beside the bed. I scrambled away, surprised to find my hands free. From the other side of the bed, damn near about to topple off the edge, I stared at the bulky, muscular man watching me. His dark eyes tracked every move I made, every fast, panicked breath I took. But he didn’t move a muscle except his lips. His face even remained impassive—unreadable.

“You’re safe,” he assured me, his growly voice low—quiet. Soothing. “Just breathe, yeah? Breathe with me.” He drew in a deep breath, and I followed him, a small sound of pain crawling up my throat. My lungs were too constricted, but the smile he awarded me made me push past the pain constricting my lungs. He held his breath then, so I did, too, and then, he slowly released it, watching as I did so, too.

We practiced that for a couple more minutes until I could breathe on my own. Slowly, I ran my eyes over the room, taking it all in. Everything was done in dark tones. Even the walls had been painted a darker tan color—not quite brown. And while some might find it dreary, I found it comforting. It was a stark contrast to the clinical white walls I’d been surrounded by for the past few months, and for the first time in just as long, I felt like I could breathe.

“Where’s Beck?” I croaked, my voice hoarse. I licked my lips, wincing at how chapped they were. They were so bad that just rubbing my tongue over my lower lip made it bleed, and I winced when the taste of copper lingered on my tastebuds.

I’d had enough of that copper taste to last me a lifetime.

The man stood to his feet, and I shrunk back from his towering height. Not only was he massive, but he was tall, too. My fingers clenched the blankets as I tracked every step he took toward the door.

“Do not worry about him,” the man told me, looking at me over his shoulder as he gripped the door handle. “Adelaide and Reina will be here in a minute. They’re here to help you, and they won’t hurt you.”

With that, he left the room before I could even ask him what his name was. I slowly moved off the bed, my legs a bit shaky. I hadn’t used them much lately, and that was evident in the way I walked. Opening the nightstand drawer closest to me, I frowned. It was empty. Sighing, I opened the drawer below it, but nope. Nothing there either.

Making my way around the bed, I opened that nightstand, flinching at the sight of the gun and bullets inside. The drawer beneath it had a locked safe, but there was no key. I huffed and closed that as well just as the door to the room opened again. I swung around, almost losing my balance and having to grip the bed for support so I wouldn’t topple over. Two women stepped into the room.

The first woman to walk in had long, dark hair and warm brown eyes, though there was a hardness to them I immediately understood. Like me, she’d gone through something rough, too.

The woman that followed her inside was a little shorter, curvier, and had blonde hair and blue eyes. They were practically polar opposites of each other, but the darkness in their eyes was the same.

Pain. Emotional pain and trauma. Soul deep scars.

“Snooping?” the dark-haired woman asked in a teasing tone. “Don’t worry. If I woke up in a strange place with a strange man that resembled The Hulk watching over me, I’d be worried and snooping, too.” A small smile tilted her lips. I relaxed a little. “I’m Adelaide, and this is Reina.” She gestured to the blonde woman. “How do you feel about taking a shower? Tank had me pick up some clothes and toiletries for you earlier. They’re in the bathroom.”

“I… that man—is he Tank?” I asked.

Reina nodded. “Yep. He looks terrifying, but he’s really just a big teddy bear. You don’t have to worry about him.” She walked over to a door and pushed it open before reaching in and flicking on a light. A bathroom done in the same dark tones as the room I was in greeted my eyes. “Come on. I’m sure a shower will feel nice. Emma is making you some food so you can eat once you’re done showering.”

I swallowed thickly. They were being nice. Really nice. And it made my chest ache. I hadn’t had this much attention in years—not from anyone other than Beck.

Beck.