Honor Reclaimed (HORNET #2)

Chapter 10

CHAPTER 10

Phoebe jerked awake to screams, the bloodcurdling sound of a man suffering the most horrible atrocities imaginable. She didn’t remember falling asleep and at first her unfamiliar surroundings sent panic skittering over her skin. She sat up, cold to the center of her being, her injured arm stiff and protesting any kind of movement. Soft, early morning light filtered through the hole in the wall, stirring up dusty motes as Seth thrashed so hard he fell off the concrete block he’d been sitting on. But instead of waking him, the jarring impact only increased his struggles.

Phoebe leapt to her feet and started toward him, but thought better of it when her shadow fell over his face and he started screaming again. She jumped away from his swinging arm, heart lodged in her throat. She’d heard once it wasn’t good to wake someone up in the middle of a night terror, and honestly, the idea of getting close enough to touch him right now tightened her chest until she had trouble drawing in a breath. But dear God, he was suffering. His handsome face contorted in very real pain as he relived something nobody should ever have to live through once.

How could she stand back and do nothing?

She eased forward. “Seth?”

He screamed.

Forget caution. Sucking in a fortifying breath, she knelt beside him, wrapped her arms tight around his bucking torso, and just held him. His heart sounded like it was about to explode underneath her ear and each jerk of his body sent pain through her wounded arm. Tears blurred her vision, but she held on, whispering a litany of comforts. Meaningless, but all she could think to do. “Shh. It’s okay, Seth. You’re safe now.”

He stilled.

She kept talking. “It’s all right. Wake up and look at me. You’re safe.”

Slowly, his eyes opened against the morning light and darted around the room. His breaths came in ragged pants and his face was bone white, coated in a thin sheet of sweat.

“See? You’re safe now.” He seemed to be holding his breath, so she added, “Breathe. It’s okay. Open up your lungs and breathe.”

He exhaled hard and the strain went out of his muscles.

“There you go. Breathe through it.”

He lifted his hand, the tips of his fingers lightly brushing her cheek before he caught himself. Cursing under his breath, he rolled away from her and climbed to his feet. With dirt smeared on his clothes and face and his eyes showing too much white, he looked like a feral creature from long ago, more animal than human.

She wanted to comfort him, but when she reached out, he shied away.

“Don’t touch me,” he said in a straggled voice that didn’t sound like his own. He held up a hand as if to ward her off.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” Phoebe wrapped her arms around herself. Blood seeped from her reopened bullet wound, making her shirt stick to her arm. She ignored it. “You had a nightmare.”

“I fucking know that.”

She recoiled at the venom in his tone. “Are… you okay?”

He laughed, but it was a nasty sound. “I’ll never be okay again.”

Oh damn. Heat stung her cheeks. “I’m sorry,” she repeated because she didn’t know what else to say.

His gaze snapped to hers and she thought she saw a hint of softening in the icy blue. At least his eyes didn’t belong to a wild animal anymore.

“No.” Sighing, he rubbed the back of his neck. “It was a legit, polite question you ask a person who has woken up from a bad nightmare,” he said, almost as if reminding himself of the fact. “I’m just a bastard who doesn’t know how to carry on a civil conversation anymore. I apologize.”

“Don’t.” She wasn’t fully aware of speaking the word aloud until he swung around and faced her again. “I mean, you don’t have to apologize for anything.”

His features darkened. “And you don’t have to give me any special treatment just because you know my sob story. If I’m being an asshole, tell me. It’s the only way I’ll—” He stopped short and edged past her. “We need to get moving.”

She wasn’t quite sure what made her reach out and catch his hand, but his whole body went rigid. She drew away and clasped her hands together, lest she keep finding ways to touch him. “It’s the only way you’ll…?”

Seth stared for a long moment, his gaze sweeping over every inch of her face like he was trying to figure her out. Or memorize her features—especially her mouth, which he focused on for a beat longer than necessary before looking away. She moistened her suddenly dry lips and he averted his gaze.

“Seth? It’s the only way you’ll…what?” She could only see his profile, gilded by the morning rays. Despite a myriad of scars, he had a surprisingly pretty face. No other word for it with those long dark lashes and big blue eyes that probably got him out of all kinds of mischief when he was a boy. Even with his one eye now milky and blind, his features held a rugged beauty that tugged at something deep inside her. A yearning to know him, to understand the pain that shadowed his gaze and the demons that haunted his sleep. Not for a story.

He turned back to her, a muscle ticking in his jaw as he seemed to wage an internal battle. When he spoke, his voice was low and rough. “It’s the only way I’ll learn to be human again.”

The words hung heavy in the air between them, a confession that felt raw and vulnerable. Phoebe’s heart squeezed with empathy, with a fierce desire to soothe the pain that radiated from him.

He walked away, leaving her to gape after him in stunned silence. Did he really believe he wasn’t human anymore? Yes, he’d lived through the unimaginable, and going by his screams while in the grip of the nightmare, she didn’t want to imagine it. And, yes, he was ragged around the edges, a walking open wound with psych issues galore. But he still had a beating heart. Thoughts, feelings, fears. He was still human, and someone should prove it to him.

She took two steps in the direction he’d disappeared before catching herself. No. It wasn’t her job to help him. As Zina often pointed out, she couldn’t save everyone, as much as she wished otherwise. And after what she’d done to Seth, it’d be foolish to even try.

Distance. She had to keep her distance.

Hardening her heart against the need to fix him, she grabbed her bag, climbed over the pile of rubble, and met him on the abandoned street below. Ruins of other bombed out buildings similar to their hideout cast forlorn shadows across the pitted road and it seemed there was not another living soul for miles. Amazingly, this ghost town existed within the bustling city limits of Kabul—a sad reminder of the wars that had ravaged the country for too many years.

“It’s beautiful in a sad, haunting kind of way, isn’t it?” She took out her camera and captured a few shots of the hopeful pink rays of morning sunlight playing through the destruction. She couldn’t wait to get these pictures into Photoshop. She’d desaturate the crumbling buildings and bring out the reds in the light, varying the shades from pink to orange…

Seth grunted.

She glanced away from her viewfinder. “You don’t think so?”

“No.”

She studied their surroundings again. He was wrong. The ghost town possessed the same kind of beauty as a dessert. Desolate, ravaged by the elements, and awe-inspiring. “How can you look at this place and not see it?”

“I see war. Destruction. Death.”

“Of course. But underneath all that…”

“No. There’s nothing in this country I find beautiful.”

“Nothing?” She turned to find his gaze fastened on her, hot as a caress, and her belly jittered with a nervous kind of excitement. He really did have the most gorgeous eye color, the same intense color of a cloudless Caribbean sky in the middle of summer.

But then he noticed her arm and winced, breaking the intensity of the moment. She’d forgotten about the bullet wound, but now that he’d drawn her attention to it, she became acutely aware of the throbbing pain. She was also bleeding again.

He started walking. “Let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Somewhere I can get in contact with my team.”

His strides were long, filled with purpose, and she struggled to keep up. “Your team? You’re still in the military then?” She couldn’t see how that was possible, though. Sure, she didn’t know much about how the military functioned, but she was certain they wouldn’t allow a man with Seth’s history to rejoin.

“No,” he said and seemed to be making a conscious effort not to look at her.

“So you’re a mercenary. Or, wait, I believe the preferred term is private military contractor?” His lip didn’t even twitch toward a smile like she’d hoped. She huffed out a breath in exasperation. “Where’s your team?”

“No idea. I doubt they’re still in the same place, which is why I need to contact them.”

“Great.” Her stomach let out an embarrassingly loud grumble. “Well, can we at least get some food first? I haven’t eaten since breakfast yesterday.”

He stopped moving and blinked at her like she had spoken in ancient Greek. “Food?”

“Didn’t even cross your mind, did it?”

“No.” His shoulders hunched, curling toward his center, giving her a glimpse of the tortured soul she’d seen this morning during the nightmare. Then he straightened to his full height again. “I don’t enjoy eating anymore, so no, I didn’t think of it. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t enjoy eating? How was that possible? Everyone—every thing with a pulse liked food. And if he didn’t eat, what did he survive on?

Her slack-jawed expression must have broadcasted her thoughts because he said, “Protein shakes, mostly. And I do eat. I just don’t like it.”

“But… why not?”

He shrugged and started walking again. “I don’t have any Afghani money, but we’ll find something for you.”

Okay, so he wasn’t going to answer. Fair enough. They were practically strangers, after all. He didn’t have to tell her anything. And, besides, she was supposed to be keeping him at a distance, not getting to know him better. That path only led to trouble. As it was, every time he looked at her, she was terrified he’d see through her, would somehow know the horrible things she’d done.

So yes, distance was good.

She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling the cold again for the first time since she woke up. Despite all logic to the contrary, it still stung that he wouldn’t confide in her. Which, yes, she knew was a completely ridiculous way to feel, but there it was.

Her stomach growled again.

God, she was starving. And cold. And her arm stung like hell.

“Am I still your prisoner?” she called after him.

Seth’s breathing hitched, and he halted as if he’d slammed into an invisible wall. When he whirled to face her, his complexion drained of color. “You’re not a prisoner.”

He looked so stricken that Phoebe silently cursed herself. She was trained as a journalist, and although she dealt primarily in photography now, she should still have enough command of the English language to keep from sending the poor man into a panic attack.

C’mon, girl, what’s with the verbal diarrhea? Get your act together.

She took a tentative step towards him, hands held up placatingly. “I’m sorry, that came out wrong. I just meant… am I free to go? Or do you still need me for something related to your mission?”

Seth visibly struggled to regain his composure. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair and exhaled slowly. “No, you’re not a prisoner. I won’t keep you against your will. But...” He hesitated, conflict warring in his good eye. “It might be safer to stick together until I can rendezvous with my team.”

Phoebe studied him, torn between the desire to put as much distance as possible between them and the inexplicable pull to stay by his side. Something about this haunted, broken man called to her, made her want to soothe his pain and help him find his way back to the light.

“All right, follow me. I’ll take you to the shelter.” She turned away, but he didn’t move for several seconds.

He fell into step beside her, silent and stone-faced, his presence both unnerving and comforting at the same time. With his scars and that carefully blank expression, he looked downright menacing.

Crap. Zina was going to be so pissed.