“Kilter will remain in Rest for six months,” I said.
Anstice gasped. “Six months? That’s so long. He was afraid for her—”
I cut her off. “He went against me. That’s unacceptable and against our laws.”
I tensed when I smelled Delara approaching the house. The front door opened and closed, and then I heard her quiet footsteps on the stone foyer tiles that led into the living room.
I peered over my shoulder and nodded to her. “Delara.”
She avoided looking at me, but she had that stubborn glint in her eyes. “She’s leaving.”
I sighed. We couldn’t allow that to happen. “She cannot leave. Go after her.”
Delara raised her chin and met my eyes. “I’m not taking her to a rehab center. It may be the right approach for some, but Rayne isn’t like others. Kilter is right. It’s the wrong environment for her.”
I looked at Kilter on the floor and then to Keir who had his eyes on me, waiting to see how I’d react to Delara’s disobedience no doubt. I didn’t. “Take her to the gallery. She can stay with you.”
“Huh?” Delara’s brows lowered with confusion.
“I’ll find a therapist who specializes in eating disorders. Rayne can live with you and go to therapy daily.” Kilter’s argument had merit, and I was willing to compromise, especially since Rayne was already on the run, meaning she’d overheard us and more than likely wouldn’t stay in rehab anyway.
“And if she refuses?” Jedrik asked.
“We will deal with that if it comes to that,” I said, but she wouldn’t. Not when she had no money and no place to go. She was one of us, whether she wanted to accept that or not. “We need to find out what they were doing in the compound.”
“You think she’ll tell us? I mean, she’s pretty messed up right now,” Jedrik said as he kicked a book aside.
“Ryker was too drugged to recall what was done to him there,” I said. “Once Rayne is strong, she will be able to tell us more. But we know she was vital to her husband.”
Keir frowned. “Vital how?”
I walked over to Kilter and glanced down at him. “With her malnourishment, her body has been functioning on very little. It’s in survival mode. Meaning her abilities have diminished and we haven’t been able to detect them. But Genevieve sensed them when she touched her.” I raised my head and looked at each of them. “Rayne is a Scar.”
I slid one leg through the slate in the gate next to the stone pillar, then my upper body. I winced as the iron pressed into me as I squished to fit. I managed to get halfway through when a hand latched onto my arm and yanked me the rest of the way.
Before I could scream, my back was locked up against a hard chest and a palm covered my mouth.
I screamed anyway, but it came out muffled and pathetic. I kicked back at my captor, but hit nothing but air.
“Rayne, stop.”
I froze while I violently sucked air in and out of my nose. Roarke?
“I’m going to remove my hand. No screaming.”
Roarke?
I nodded and he removed his hand.
He turned me around in his arms, hands settling on my hips. “Thank fuck, you’re okay. Jesus, I came back to the compound and everything was destroyed.”
Roarke was as tall as Kilter and just as muscular, but while Kilter had the look of a Highland Scot, Roarke was more of the handsome English gentleman.
His defined features were strained and tired. There were dark lines under his almond-shaped eyes and the corners of his mouth drew down.
“Roarke, what are you doing here?”
“Come.” He tugged me away from the gate and into the shadows of an oak tree and pressed me up against the tree trunk. He leaned into me, one arm stretched over my head, palm on the trunk, the other at my hip. “I thought… fuck, I thought you were dead.” His hand moved from my hip to my face and he cupped my cheek.
I shifted my head to the side to avoid his touch and his arm lowered.
He sighed. “Ben told me what happened and—”
I gasped, stomach churning. “Ben’s alive?”
“Was. He was burned pretty badly from the blast and had a stab wound, but he was breathing and conscious when I found him. I finished him off, didn’t want to chance that piece of crap living.” Roarke killed Ben? I didn’t understand. They had worked together. Well, somewhat together. “Anton is dead, Rayne. I saw his body. He can’t hurt you anymore.”
“Yeah,” I said, lowering my eyes from his. I tried to block out the emotions Roarke being here brought with him, but they crashed into me like hail.
“I tracked the Scars here, but the place has been locked down tight. I only saw you once in the garden with one of the Scars.”
“Kilter.” An ache hit my chest and I looked toward the gate. Had they hurt him? Should I go back? Would Roarke let me?
“Are you running away from them? Did they hurt you?”
I shook my head, strands of hair falling in front of my face. “No. They were nice.” Roarke had always been kind to me, but he never helped me get out of there. He was a reminder of what my husband made us do. A reminder of the pain.
“Come with me,” Roarke said.
Why had he watched Anton use me like that? Why didn’t he stop what was happening? He was a Grit and was powerful enough.
The gate squeaked and we both tensed and turned.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He pushed back from the tree and stepped in front of me, blocking me with his body.