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I sigh, resting my forehead on hers. I can't explain why she means so much to me. It goes beyond how much she could help me with the Guild. It's something bubbling inside my chest, wrapping around my heart, and squeezing. The idea that she's stuck here, abused and forgotten by everyone outside of these walls, eats at me every day. It hits me harder now that I know her.
"This isn't exactly my ideal way of getting to know someone." I chuckle, slipping an arm around her waist.
"What, you've never hidden in a supply closet with someone and asked them their favorite color? I thought everyone did that."
I press my lips together, holding back my laughter. Tipping my head back, my eyes dart around the darkness, seeking any bit of light. It's disconcerting to be surrounded by nothing but blackness.
There's a sense of security in here, as though I could spill every single secret and no one would know. Trusting Aelia fully is a risk I'm quickly realizing I will need to take. If I'm going to convince her to help me, I have to give her more.
"I don't want to see those girls up there being auctioned off to the highest bidder. I can't handle it without going on a rampage. I'd burn this entire place to the ground right now if I could."
"I'm sure they wouldn't care," she breathes, body tensing.
I snort, even as much stomach turns. "Jenkins would. Probably wouldn't stop him from setting up shop somewhere else."
"I meant the others. The ones in the Pit. Those in the cages. Women forced to dance for men who only see them as possessions to be used and discarded. Men made to strip and then beaten for the enjoyment of others who like to break people's spirits for fun. I doubt any of them would care if you blew them up. Death is better than living this existence."
"Aelia, help me. I know it's not fair what I'm asking you to do. There's a good chance neither of us will make it out alive, but at least we tried. Isn't trying better than living half a life?"
I wish I could see her—read what she's thinking on her face. Every other time I've tried, though, she's a blank mask. She'd never give herself away. It's too dangerous in a place like this.
"You haven't even told me how I could help," she murmurs, leaning away from me, and I drop my hands.
"You have access. That's enough. I have people who might be able to step in later, but they need access to the system."
"Dante, I don't have that kind of clearance. I'm allowed a sliver of information at any given time. After a while, they switch to something else. I don't even know how to explain it. There's like three programs I'm allowed access to at once. Then, after a couple of weeks, they change to new ones. I never see the full picture. I'm not some silver bullet you can use to bring them down." Her voice cracks, then she stops as if she’s revealed too much.
I'm not equipped for this. I'm in a fucking MC, not some operative who can bring down a criminal enterprise. I didn't think this through, and now I'm in too deep. And I dragged Aelia into it as well. Cutting her loose now would do more harm than good. Jenkins assumes I've been using her body, probably beating her as well. Who knows what advantages he'd take with her, thinking she's already sullied. As long as she's with me, at least there's the illusion of safety.
"Are they beating you?" The question slips out before I can change my mind.
She gasps, then something clatters to the floor, and bounces into my leg. Aelia mutters a string of curses as her small hands pat my legs.
"What the hell are you doing?" I whisper, crouching down.
Our hands collide and I lace our fingers together. I try to stand, pulling her with me, but my foot connects with something that sends me crashing to the ground. A gasp leaves her as she tumbles on top of me, and I wrap my arm around her back.
"Are you okay?"
"Yeah, are you?" she asks, resting her forehead on my chest.
"Course, but someone definitely heard that. We should..."
She lifts her head, breath ghosting over my lips. "Get out of here."
"I don't want to see that shit," I admit.
She sighs, muscles relaxing the longer I hold her. The last thing I should do is skim my palm along her side. I shouldn't dig my fingers into her hip. And for fuck's sake, I shouldn't close the distance between our lips. Devouring her isn't in the plan.
The unhinged, completely fucked up strategy I've concocted is chaotic enough without adding extra layers. Throw in the fact she's been forced to live in this cesspit, surrounded by men who wouldn't understand consent if it slapped them in the face. It would be exceptionally bad.
She takes the choice away from me, leaning closer, and her lips brush against mine. I ache as I hold myself still, letting her take the reins. She sighs again, sending a shudder through me. Her tongue darts out, licking along my lip, and I slide my hand to her cheek. I jolt when her nails dig into my chest, and she jerks back.
"Sorry," she gasps, scrambling off me and knocking over a bottle in her haste.
I slowly push to my feet, reaching toward where I think she is. My hand grazes her arm, and she whimpers.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean..."
