AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Grabbing the first aid kit, I stomped out of the bathroom again. I stopped to fill a bucket with water and walked back to the cells with my supplies, glad to see someone managed to drag Yuri’s ass out of sight.
The kid hadn’t moved. Pressed in the corner of the cell, he was still staring at the bloody splatter on the floor. Or his hand. It was hard to tell from the angle. I deposited the stuff on the floor and retrieved one more item before unlocking his cell.
When the door squeaked open, Roan turned his head, watching me with a guarded expression. It was the first time I didn’t see hope flicker in his eyes. He actually looked afraid, like he had at the bank, caught between Yuri and I with nowhere to go.
I pushed the door open and motioned him to his feet.
A muscle twitched along his jaw, like he was trying to decide what to do. Not listening wasnota fucking option. I’d never had vast reserves of patience and the little there was was running thin.
“Get up,” I added in English.
He complied, but remained standing where he was.
“Come.” I beckoned him forward with one hand. Still, no movement. He was so fucking stubborn. No wonder he got under Yuri’s skin — he was under mine in three seconds. “Now!”
Relenting, Roan trudged forward, his gaze locked on me the entire way. Speckles of blood dotted his face; Yuri’s backhand made his cheek red and swollen. He was going to have one hell of a bruise in the morning.
“What do you want?” he asked, stopping at the cell door.
I took his right hand, slapped a handcuff to it, and tugged him along behind me. Hooking the other cuff to the side wall of chainlink, I arched a brow at him, waiting for his next question.
Shockingly, he didn’t seem to have one. He continued to watch me glumly, chewing on the inside of his lower lip.
With a satisfied nod, I grabbed the bucket of water and splashed waves of it onto the floor, sending Yuri’s blood flowing into the drain. The last thing we needed were fucking rats in the building. I hated rats.
Once that was done, I picked up the first aid kit and made my way back to the kid.
He glanced between my face and the distinct red and white cross on the plastic box, clearly confused why I would bother tending to his hand. He must not have understood his worth.
Uncapping a bottle of water, I poured some over his palm and used a couple of cotton pads to wipe away the blood. He should have probably gotten stitches, but that wasn’t going to happen, so I used the tiny strip bandages to pull his skin taut. After decades of putting myself back together, I was fairly certain he’d be alright.
“What’s your name?” he asked as I worked.
I ignored him. It was actually strange to hear his voice so quiet, yet so close. Normally there was more distance between us.
“I know you can speak English,” he added.
Fixing him with a glare, I stared pointedly for a minute before resuming my ministrations. Icould. That didn’t mean I wasgoingto. And certainly not at his insistence.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, his voice trailing off as he looked away. “I just wanted to know who to thank this time.”
Exhaling sharply, I paused and looked up. His gaze returned to mine, still wary, but that tiny shard of hope was back. “What did I say about that?”
“I don’t listen,” he replied offhandedly, his head tilted to the side, like he was studying me.
“Obviously,” I snapped.
A small smile curved his mouth. “Is that a joke?”
Resuming my silence with a scowl, I wrapped his palm with gauze. His hand had been cold when I first started cleaning him up, but now it was warm. I really should get him a hoodie. Despite his sunny disposition, he didn’t seem to generate nearly enough body heat for himself. God, he’d never survive a Siberian winter.
Shaking my head, I dispelled the thought immediately. But I kept shaking my head at the whole damn situation. It was brave to stand up to Yuri. Brave and fucking stupid. Especially for some girl he didn’t even know and would never see again.
“Thanks anyway, Mr. Black,” Roan muttered after a minute, shifting his weight away from me.
Furrowing my brows, I looked up, releasing his hand. Mr. Black? What the hell kind of a name was that?
His bright blue eyes met mine, blinking serenely. The purplish facets scattered in his irises didn’t reflect an ounce of fear anymore. Heshouldhave been afraid, not trying to figure out my name so he could fuckingthankme. I didn’t thank the man who bought me when I was twelve and shipped me overseas. I didn’t thank the men who beat me at the start and finish of each day and sometimes in between. And I certainly didn’t thank the ungrateful fucks I worked for now. So why did he keepthankingme?
