Chapter 18

Royal’s POV

"Does she even have a soul left in there?" Ripley asked.

He dragged the edge of the blade along the inside of her thigh. The metal was cold and sharp. It snagged on the thin fabric of her underwear and sliced through it like paper. Rilla didn't move. She didn't flinch or cry out. Her eyes were wide and fixed on the window, watching the clouds move across the blue sky. It was like she had stepped out of her own body and left the shell behind.

"She looks clean enough for a girl who stayed in a cage," Ripley noted. He sounded bored as he stepped back. "I thought she would be more of a mess."

Robbie leaned in with a sneer. He didn't look convinced. "She spent six years running with the dregs of the city. There is no way she is intact. You need to look closer."

"See for yourself," Ripley said. He waved a hand toward the bed.

Philip stood by the door with his arms crossed. His voice was like ice. "Women like her are built for this. They can take whatever you throw at them and keep going. It is what they are born for."

"Exactly," Robbie agreed. He let out a dark, low laugh that made my skin crawl. "A whore is always a whore, no matter how much she tries to hide it."

Rory paced near the dresser. He looked restless and annoyed. "Are we finished with the inspection? This room smells like a hospital and a gutter. If I stay another minute, I am going to lose my lunch. I am not the one who is going to scrub this floor later."

"We are done," Philip said. He turned on his heel and walked out without looking back.

Rory followed him closely. "I don't even know how I am supposed to touch her with that scent in the air. I might just snap her neck instead. It would be faster."

Ripley and Robbie started toward the door too. Ripley paused and looked back at the bed with a mocking grin.

"Stay strong, little bat," Ripley called out. "We need to get the video right. We wouldn't want Riley to think we forgot to include you in the party."

"Some party," Rory grumbled from the hallway.

Ripley tossed a blood stained knife toward Rory. "Clean that off. It belongs to Philip."

Robbie spat on the floor. "How are we supposed to clean ourselves after we are done with her? That is the real question."

I looked at Robbie as he reached the threshold. "Robbie, aren't you going to finish the medical check?"

He didn't even turn around. "We saw enough. She is functional," he said, and then he was gone.

The sound of their heavy boots faded down the hall. For some reason, I was always the one left behind to pick up the pieces. The others found every excuse to walk away, but I stayed. I walked toward the edge of the bed.

"Rilla," I said.

I kept my voice soft. She didn't blink. She didn't even seem to be breathing. Her chest barely moved. She was a statue made of pale skin and broken spirit. I knew what she had done. I knew she was a traitor who had sold us out, but looking at her like this made a knot form in my stomach. It was hard to keep hating someone who was already a ghost.

I reached for the metal cuff on her wrist. The lock clicked open. The sound was loud in the quiet room. Her head turned an inch. She stared at her own hand as if she didn't recognize it. She looked at the skin where the metal had been like it was a miracle to be free.

Her hospital gown had hiked up during the struggle. I saw her legs clearly for the first time. They were covered in a map of pain. There were yellowing bruises, purple welts, and jagged white scars. On her inner thigh, there were clear marks from teeth. Someone had bitten her over and over again.

Romilly had told me to look at her body if I wanted to know the truth about her life. I didn't want to see it, but I couldn't look away. This was a nightmare written in flesh.

She was a pureblood wolf. She should have healed from these things in a matter of hours. The only way these scars could stay was if she had been drugged into submission for years. Either her wolf was suppressed by chemicals, or the spirit of the animal had simply given up and died.

I felt a weight in my chest. I tried to shake it off. I told myself she deserved this. I told myself not to feel pity for a girl who ruined our pack.

"What happened to you?" I whispered.

She didn't answer.

"You were supposed to be in a cell for your crimes," I said. "How did you end up with human traffickers? How did you fall this far?"

I had a thousand questions about why she betrayed us six years ago. I wanted to scream at her until she gave me a reason. But she wasn't even there.

"You have been in this bed for days," I said. My voice was steady and firm. "Do you want to stand up? Do you need to use the bathroom?"

She looked at me then. Her eyes were cautious. She tried to push herself up, but her arms shook. I could see the pain lines around her mouth. She was weak.

I reached out to steady her. The moment my fingers brushed her arm, she flinched. She pulled back so hard she almost fell off the other side of the bed. She looked like a stray dog that expected a kick every time a human moved.

"I am just trying to help you walk," I said. "That is all."

She didn't believe me. The fear in her eyes stayed sharp. I lost my patience and just reached down to pick her up. She went rigid in my arms. She tried to push against my chest, but she had no strength.

"Stop fighting," I told her. "I have been carrying you since the day we found you. If I wanted to hurt you, I would have done it by now. Keep quiet or I will drop you on the floor."

She let out a sharp hiss of pain as her hip bumped against my arm. Then she went limp. She gave up.

I carried her into the small bathroom and sat her down on the lid of the toilet. She kept her head down. Her long, messy hair fell over her face like a curtain. She looked small and broken.

"If you can't get up, call for me," I said. "I will be right outside the door."

She didn't make a sound. She sat there like a stone. I checked the room for anything sharp or dangerous. I didn't want her trying to end it while I was three feet away. When I saw the room was safe, I stepped out and shut the door.

I leaned against the wall and ran my fingers through my hair. My heart was beating too fast.

"Why am I doing this?" I asked the empty room.