with a raise of my hand and quickly turn off the microphone around my neck. “Where’s her underwear?”
She shakes her head. “We’re not allowed.” She doesn’t pause as she helps guide Penny’s head through the material.
“Wait,” I repeat with barely leashed frustration. Fuck. I’m getting pummeled here. Visually. Verbally. The muttered conversation through my earpiece along with the approaching freight train of a migraine is making it hard to think. “She can’t put on a fucking white dress when her hands are covered in blood. I’m going to need that cloth. Now.”
The woman retreats at my anger, her hands trembling.
“I’m not going to hurt her. Just get me that cloth. We need to get out of here.”
She straightens her shoulders and nods, leaving me alone with the most heartbreakingly gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.
“Penny…” Fuck me. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know where to look as she stares at the floor.
“Chloe…” The name is whispered from her lips. “She’s gone.”
“I know.” I shove my gun into my waistband, loosen the brain-numbing comm device in my ear so Hunt and Decker’s voices stop punishing me, and reach for the nearest bed to tug off the coverings. “I’m sorry.” I grab her wrist, needing to busy myself with something other than visual violation, and wipe the blood from her fingers. “You’ve been dealt a rough fucking hand, sweetheart. I can’t imagine what you’re going through.”
I stroke her skin, over and over, sweeping away layer upon layer of death. “You’re going to be okay.” I keep my gaze trained on her arms as I utter the placation. In honesty, I have no idea if she’ll physically make it through, let alone mentally. “Once we get you home, you’re going to be fine.”
She shudders out a breath, the warmth brushing my face.
I want nothing more than to wrap her in cotton wool. To shelter her. To slay every sick son of a bitch who dared to witness her suffering only to turn a blind eye.
“Lilly…” Penny blinks to awareness when the other woman re-enters the room, her trance of grief lessening the slightest fraction. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too.” The other woman hands the cloth to me while her attention remains on Penny’s arms. “Is that your blood? Are you hurt?”
“No. It’s—”
Shit. “Lilly, I need you to go outside and find the others.” She has to remain ignorant. I can’t risk any more theatrical delays. “Tell them we’re almost ready.”
“But I want to stay with—”
“It’s okay, Lil.” Penny’s voice is hollow. “Find the others. We won’t be long.”
I keep my attention on the cleanup as Lilly reluctantly backtracks from the room. I wipe Penny’s wrists, her palms, in between her fingers.
“I can do that myself.” She attempts to pull her hand away, but I cling tight, needing to remain tethered.
“I’m sure you could.” I give a half-hearted grin. “But would you do as good a job as me?”
“Luca.” My name is part plea, part exhausted warning. “I can do it.”
“What did I say about listening, shorty?” I grab her other arm and begin the same ritual.
Soon, she’ll be on her way out of this nightmare, and I’ll be stuck thinking I didn’t do enough to help her. That I left her in Luther’s clutches when I shouldn’t have. That I caused her more pain than necessary.
This is the least I can do. Mere swipes of a damp cloth over delicate skin. Bit by bit I clean away the blood, wishing I was cleaning away her suffering.
“I…” She lets out a long breath. “I think I blacked out in there. Or…” She sighs and shakes her head in confusion. “I don’t know. I’m so tired.”
“It’s shock.” I make quick work of her other arm, trying to remain gentle as her nudity taunts me. I can’t stop myself from taking a glimpse. But it’s not for pleasure. It’s because of those fucking marks. “Those bruises…?” I can’t finish my question. It’s not the time or place to voice my angered curiosity when it’s clear who marked her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to look.”
“The exposure means nothing to me anymore,” she whispers. “I lost ownership of my body long ago.”
I clench my jaw. Tight.
Anger clogs my throat. Rage burns my veins.
I wipe the last of the blood from her hand, throw the cloth to the floor, and help drag the material from around her neck to cover her nudity. “Nobody owns you. Not Luther. Not