Page 139 of Uprising

She places her fingers on my lips and I freeze. She hasn’t touched me, hasn’t made any moves to. It’s always been me holding her, soothing her. Just the feel of her skin against mine sends a shiver through me, sends a bolt right to my dick.

She steps closer, brushes her lips against mine and just as I react, just as I move to kiss her she pulls away and her eyes well. “I can’t.” She whispers so quietly. So sadly.

“It’s okay.” I say. It’s going to take time, we both know that. But that’s what we have now, we have all the time in the world.

She strips the hoody off, strips off her leggings too and then her underwear, discarding it in a pile. I stare wide eyed at her as she steps into the water, as it streams down her body. I tried to keep my eyes averted when I found her the other day. I tried to give her some sort of dignity. But now I can see all the bruises, all the marks, the burns where something was pushed into her skin.

Before I can stop myself I’m reaching out, touching, putting my fingertips on the damage, ignoring the water now covering my sleeve.

She whimpers a tiny bit as I do it.

“They burnt you?” I half growl.

“The cattle prod.” She whispers. “That’s what he used on me to try to get Ty to talk.”

My anger flares, it takes all my control not to flip out. They fucking tortured her with a cattle prod?

“Hold me.” She murmurs so quietly. “Just hold me Roman. I want to feel safe.”

“You are safe.” I reply before pulling my own clothes off. “You will always be safe with me.”

I step into the shower, feeling the heat of the water and I’m so aware of how naked we both are, how she’s trembling though she’s trying to hide it.

Despite her words I know if I try to hold her right now she’ll panic.

So instead I grab the sponge, pour a load of soap onto it and slowly, carefully, I wash her clean.

Roman

Two days later we leave. We move into this new house. All of us, me, Rose, Lara, Ben, Sofia, and Bella.

I’ve got enough guards around the place and enough cameras that we’ll know when even a bird flies into the garden. But I won’t take any chances.

Bella runs through the garden like she’s forgotten what the feel of grass is beneath her feet.

The air is cold. Clearly winter is setting in and I make a note to ensure we all have enough warm clothes, and hats.

Lara chases after Bella, laughing, skipping, acting the way a six year old should.

And Rose stands on the veranda, looking out, watching her, smiling in a way that makes my heart melt.

But Sofia disappears, she retreats into herself, keeping to the room furthest from us, all but hiding in it except for dinner when she comes down, plays nice but as soon as the meal is done she’s gone, up the stairs and into the darkness.

Ben sits outside her door, not wanting to push enough to actually enter but I can see he’s torn about what to do. We all are.

And then halfway through the first week Hastings comes knocking.

I did my best to put him off. I did my best to tell him that Rose needed more time. I’m half minded to tell him where to stick it when I open the door but from the look on his face I realise I don’t have a choice.

He follows me into the study. His eyes scanning the place, taking in the marble floors, the double heighted ceilings and vintage Persian rugs. All of it décor that’s far more old money than new. Far more Montague vibes than Capulet.

In the study there’s a huge chesterfield desk with a green leather top so similar to the one my father owned. I sit behind it and Hastings takes the seat to the left.

“I came to speak with Rose.” He says pointedly, like he thinks I don’t know it.

“She’ll be down in a minute.” I say.

He sits back into the chair, assessing me, one leg resting over the other by his ankle.