Darkest Before Dawn
Page 55
He bristled with rage, every muscle in his body going rigid as the need for Bristow’s blood filled his soul. He held her tightly, hurrying down the corridor to the wing where he and his men were housed.
Conrad was waiting, his expression grim.
“What did that son of a bitch do to her?” Conrad snarled.
“Not now,” Hancock snapped. “Get me a med kit and a suture kit. We’ve got to get her wrists stitched and the bleeding stopped. She’s lost too much blood as it is. The cut on her throat isn’t as bad and won’t require sutures. And get her pain medication and a sedative. She’s never going to sleep after this.”
Conrad swore but hurried away to get the necessary supplies.
Hancock carefully laid her on the bed, and she immediately curled into a protective ball.
“I’m just going to get you one of my shirts,” he said so as not to alarm her.
She glanced down, horror reflected in her gaze as if only just remembering that she was completely exposed. Mortification swept over her delicate features and she began silently weeping all over again.
He took a T-shirt, one that would allow Conrad easy access to the areas that needed attention, and dressed her like a child unable to do the task herself. He brought damp washcloths and several large bandages so he could apply pressure to her wrists until Conrad could control the bleeding and stitch the cuts.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked quietly. “What did that son of a bitch do to you?”
“He touched me,” she said, shuddering in revulsion.
“Did he rape you?” he asked bluntly.
She flinched and looked away. His heart was in his throat because she had the look of a woman who’d been brutalized, who had been driven to the very edge of hell. He was perilously close to losing his shit and that was the last thing she needed right now.
She needed tenderness. Gentleness. Things he had never thought he possessed until he met her.
“No,” she finally said in barely above a whisper. “But he wanted to. He tried. I fought him and it made him angry. He hit me. He touched me. I grabbed his knife and told him I’d kill myself and his deal with Maksimov would go straight to hell and he’d be a dead man for promising Maksimov something he could no longer deliver.”
Amid his terrible rage, pride rose at her ferocity. And her quick thinking.
“He didn’t believe me so I cut my wrist. And then I realized that if I waited too long, I wouldn’t have the strength to cut the other one. And then I went for my carotid artery because I knew I’d bleed out in seconds. Only then did he back off.”
For a moment Hancock couldn’t breathe. It was the height of hypocrisy that he was gutted over the fact that Honor had been terrified enough to kill herself when it would be the kinder of her two possible fates.
But he was a coward. He would witness Honor’s death here. He wouldn’t see what happened to her after she left his protection. And he’d promised that as long as she was under his protection, he wouldn’t allow her to come to any harm. Twice he’d broken his promise. Twice Bristow had gotten to her when she was at her most vulnerable.
Conrad strode in without a word—he was tight-lipped—and fury emanated from him in tangible waves.
He began to cleanse the wounds at her wrists with brisk efficiency, and Honor looked anxiously up at Conrad, her nervousness and unease broadcasting through the entire room.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, including both men in her apology. “I could have ruined your mission. I could have messed everything up. I wasn’t thinking rationally. He . . . hurt me.”
She broke off as though she were embarrassed to admit that he’d hurt her and that she’d been terrified, and now she sought what, their forgiveness?
Conrad paused and visibly sucked in a steadying breath. Then he looked her directly in the eye, pinning her with his steely gaze.
“You do not apologize to me, to anyone. Ever. It is we who owe you an apology for leaving you in a vulnerable position even for the small amount of time we did. You’re an incredible woman, Honor Cambridge, and I can honestly say I am privileged to have known you. You will never be forgotten by me.”
Tears sparkled like diamonds on her lashes as she stared at the terse man in bewilderment.
“I was a coward,” she said in disgust.
“Now you’re just pissing me off,” Conrad said in a surly voice. “Shut up and let me do my job.”
She went silent, and Hancock smiled to himself. Conrad had no idea what to make of Honor. She baffled him. She was a puzzle he had yet to solve, and it ate at him. In the world Titan lived in, there weren’t people like Honor. Selfless. Courageous. Brave. Putting others before herself.
“He’s giving you pain medication and a sedative,” Hancock said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You need to rest.”
It was a testament to just how exhausted and beaten down she was that she didn’t so much as utter a single protest.
She was silent while he stitched the cuts to her wrists. Though they’d bled quite a bit, they weren’t nearly as deep as Hancock had feared, and the cut at her neck was so shallow that all it required was a butterfly bandage.
When it was done, Conrad gathered his stuff and he and Hancock walked toward the door.
“Hancock?”
There was fear in her voice that stopped him in his tracks. He turned and Conrad continued out as Hancock made his way back to where Honor lay in his bed.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered. “Will you stay with me, please? I won’t be a bother. I’ll try not to be a nuisance,” she hastily amended. “I promise.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips feather light over hers. Then he laced his fingers through hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
His tone was infinitely gentle as if he feared breaking her. She was as fragile as he’d ever seen her, when before all he’d ever witnessed was her unwavering strength and stubbornness.
“I wasn’t leaving you, Honor. I’m not going anywhere. I was just giving Conrad team leadership for the time being so I can stay with you. He’s going to be my eyes and ears temporarily while I’m here. With you,” he added for emphasis.
The relief in her eyes was nearly his undoing. She sagged against the pillows, looking small and defeated. Tears shone brightly, catching on her long lashes.
“If you thank me, so help me God, I’m going to shake you,” he warned.
A ghost of a smile hovered on her lips.
“Promise you’ll stay even when the sedative takes effect?” she asked in a small voice.
He could tell it was already working. Her responses were slower and her speech slightly off balance, and it wasn’t entirely due to the trauma she’d undergone.
“I’ll be right here, next to you, the entire night,” he said solemnly. “And if you have a bad dream, I’ll hold you and kick its ass for you.”
She smiled again, and he went weak to his knees. He realized a man would do a hell of lot to make a woman like Honor smile for him.
She opened her mouth and he shot her a warning glare.
“Don’t you say a single word unless it’s not an apology or a thank-you.”
She laughed softly but closed her lips, but the gratitude was there in her eyes for him to see even if it went unspoken.
Conrad was waiting, his expression grim.
“What did that son of a bitch do to her?” Conrad snarled.
“Not now,” Hancock snapped. “Get me a med kit and a suture kit. We’ve got to get her wrists stitched and the bleeding stopped. She’s lost too much blood as it is. The cut on her throat isn’t as bad and won’t require sutures. And get her pain medication and a sedative. She’s never going to sleep after this.”
Conrad swore but hurried away to get the necessary supplies.
Hancock carefully laid her on the bed, and she immediately curled into a protective ball.
“I’m just going to get you one of my shirts,” he said so as not to alarm her.
She glanced down, horror reflected in her gaze as if only just remembering that she was completely exposed. Mortification swept over her delicate features and she began silently weeping all over again.
He took a T-shirt, one that would allow Conrad easy access to the areas that needed attention, and dressed her like a child unable to do the task herself. He brought damp washcloths and several large bandages so he could apply pressure to her wrists until Conrad could control the bleeding and stitch the cuts.
“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked quietly. “What did that son of a bitch do to you?”
“He touched me,” she said, shuddering in revulsion.
“Did he rape you?” he asked bluntly.
She flinched and looked away. His heart was in his throat because she had the look of a woman who’d been brutalized, who had been driven to the very edge of hell. He was perilously close to losing his shit and that was the last thing she needed right now.
She needed tenderness. Gentleness. Things he had never thought he possessed until he met her.
“No,” she finally said in barely above a whisper. “But he wanted to. He tried. I fought him and it made him angry. He hit me. He touched me. I grabbed his knife and told him I’d kill myself and his deal with Maksimov would go straight to hell and he’d be a dead man for promising Maksimov something he could no longer deliver.”
Amid his terrible rage, pride rose at her ferocity. And her quick thinking.
“He didn’t believe me so I cut my wrist. And then I realized that if I waited too long, I wouldn’t have the strength to cut the other one. And then I went for my carotid artery because I knew I’d bleed out in seconds. Only then did he back off.”
For a moment Hancock couldn’t breathe. It was the height of hypocrisy that he was gutted over the fact that Honor had been terrified enough to kill herself when it would be the kinder of her two possible fates.
But he was a coward. He would witness Honor’s death here. He wouldn’t see what happened to her after she left his protection. And he’d promised that as long as she was under his protection, he wouldn’t allow her to come to any harm. Twice he’d broken his promise. Twice Bristow had gotten to her when she was at her most vulnerable.
Conrad strode in without a word—he was tight-lipped—and fury emanated from him in tangible waves.
He began to cleanse the wounds at her wrists with brisk efficiency, and Honor looked anxiously up at Conrad, her nervousness and unease broadcasting through the entire room.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured, including both men in her apology. “I could have ruined your mission. I could have messed everything up. I wasn’t thinking rationally. He . . . hurt me.”
She broke off as though she were embarrassed to admit that he’d hurt her and that she’d been terrified, and now she sought what, their forgiveness?
Conrad paused and visibly sucked in a steadying breath. Then he looked her directly in the eye, pinning her with his steely gaze.
“You do not apologize to me, to anyone. Ever. It is we who owe you an apology for leaving you in a vulnerable position even for the small amount of time we did. You’re an incredible woman, Honor Cambridge, and I can honestly say I am privileged to have known you. You will never be forgotten by me.”
Tears sparkled like diamonds on her lashes as she stared at the terse man in bewilderment.
“I was a coward,” she said in disgust.
“Now you’re just pissing me off,” Conrad said in a surly voice. “Shut up and let me do my job.”
She went silent, and Hancock smiled to himself. Conrad had no idea what to make of Honor. She baffled him. She was a puzzle he had yet to solve, and it ate at him. In the world Titan lived in, there weren’t people like Honor. Selfless. Courageous. Brave. Putting others before herself.
“He’s giving you pain medication and a sedative,” Hancock said in a tone that brooked no argument. “You need to rest.”
It was a testament to just how exhausted and beaten down she was that she didn’t so much as utter a single protest.
She was silent while he stitched the cuts to her wrists. Though they’d bled quite a bit, they weren’t nearly as deep as Hancock had feared, and the cut at her neck was so shallow that all it required was a butterfly bandage.
When it was done, Conrad gathered his stuff and he and Hancock walked toward the door.
“Hancock?”
There was fear in her voice that stopped him in his tracks. He turned and Conrad continued out as Hancock made his way back to where Honor lay in his bed.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered. “Will you stay with me, please? I won’t be a bother. I’ll try not to be a nuisance,” she hastily amended. “I promise.”
He leaned down and brushed his lips feather light over hers. Then he laced his fingers through hers and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
His tone was infinitely gentle as if he feared breaking her. She was as fragile as he’d ever seen her, when before all he’d ever witnessed was her unwavering strength and stubbornness.
“I wasn’t leaving you, Honor. I’m not going anywhere. I was just giving Conrad team leadership for the time being so I can stay with you. He’s going to be my eyes and ears temporarily while I’m here. With you,” he added for emphasis.
The relief in her eyes was nearly his undoing. She sagged against the pillows, looking small and defeated. Tears shone brightly, catching on her long lashes.
“If you thank me, so help me God, I’m going to shake you,” he warned.
A ghost of a smile hovered on her lips.
“Promise you’ll stay even when the sedative takes effect?” she asked in a small voice.
He could tell it was already working. Her responses were slower and her speech slightly off balance, and it wasn’t entirely due to the trauma she’d undergone.
“I’ll be right here, next to you, the entire night,” he said solemnly. “And if you have a bad dream, I’ll hold you and kick its ass for you.”
She smiled again, and he went weak to his knees. He realized a man would do a hell of lot to make a woman like Honor smile for him.
She opened her mouth and he shot her a warning glare.
“Don’t you say a single word unless it’s not an apology or a thank-you.”
She laughed softly but closed her lips, but the gratitude was there in her eyes for him to see even if it went unspoken.
