Page 116 of Operation: Defiance

Chapter Twenty-Five

Raine

“Those five minutes must be up by now.”

I’m not ready to do this. But the longer we wait, the more the evidence degrades. I won’t let them have that.

Asher braces his hand on his thigh as he pushes to his feet, then rubs a hand over his jaw. Stubble rasps under his palm. “I stopped counting at four and a half. It seemed rude to keep going. And secretly, I’d hoped you’d rest a little longer.”

“Rest is one thing. Avoidance is another.”

His gaze tracks my face, then my hands, taking inventory from across the room. “I won’t touch you more than I have to. Or without warning. And we stop whenever you say.”

“And I need⁠—”

“To see my hands. You will. I promise. I’ll get the phone. Okay?”

I nod, and he heads for the main room. After a minute or so, he returns with a small box in his hand. “It’s still sealed.”

Asher shows me the manufacturer sticker, then tears it off, opens the box, and tips the phone into his hand.

“May I?” he asks, gesturing to the edge of the bed.

He’s never assumed. Not once. Not after helping me wash my hair. Not after working on my shoulder and wrists. Not after helping me do something as simple as drink tea. That means something, but I can’t focus on it yet. Not until this next part is over.

“Okay.”

Asher takes a seat, leaving two feet of space between us.

“When we’re done, you set the password. The encryption codes. Everything. I’ll use it for the photos now, but it belongs to you.”

Mine.

A lump swells in my throat. I stare at the hunk of plastic and glass as the memory of them cutting off my bra plays on a loop in my head.

“Raine? Where did you go?”

The mattress shifts with his weight, but when I blink hard and look up at him, he hasn’t moved any closer.

“They took…everything. My wallet. My ring. My clothes. Did they empty my bank account? My apartment? Make it so I never existed?” My fingers tighten on the blanket. The tremor starts a moment later.

“I have resources,” Asher says, his voice smooth, confident, and gentle. “If they did take everything, I’ll help you get it back.”

Help.

Not do it for me. Not rescue me or save me.

Help me.

Heat pricks behind my eyes before I can stop it. My lungs loosen a fraction, enough that the next breath doesn’t scrape going in. Even my bad shoulder drops slightly, as if my body believes what my brain can’t quite process.

Asher might not be a hero. But he is a decent man.

After a beat, he powers on the phone. “Where do you want to start?”

I think through the possibilities. Hands. Shoulder. Ribs. There’s too much. The static in my head gets so loud, it drowns everything else out.

“My wrists,” I finally manage. “They’re…accessible.”