Page 18 of Dirty Salvation

Angela was a slender bit of a kid, ink black hair that reached down to her backside, and a tan so natural in any other circumstances Zara would have been envious.

She was fresh to being fourteen years old, just turned it two weeks ago, she’d told Zara. On a late vacation to the Rocky Mountains with her parents from New Mexico, the summer season had only just finished and her parents worked the tourist spots selling their homemade jewelry, home-grown organic veggies and needed to wait out the season to make as much money as they could.

What a belated gift for the girl, to arrive in the North of Colorado, for what they thought ten days of idyllic quiet family time in a cabin, not far actually, and instead of swimming in the lake, the cruel reality had given Angela the nightmare of watching her parents robbed at gunpoint, and killed when her father tried to put up a fight.

As far as Zara could work out that had only been several days ago, when Angela was brought to the Rebel’s base of operation.

Hades growling at Zara to ‘keep that fucking brat quiet, or else’ she knew his or else and moved by the tiny girl so obviously traumatised Zara had cared for her.

Hades moved women through the compound fast, like grocery deliveries, brought against their will, to use, abuse and sell on to the highest bidder.

The guy was from the fucking revolting stone age.

Zara had taken one look at the traumatized young girl covered in her parent's blood, saw her nubile body in her plain T-shirt and jeans, knew exactly what the Rebel’s would do and vowed to keep her out of harm’s way no matter what she had to do.

That had proven easier than she’d thought when masked men had come through the club, stealth, deadly.God sent.

The raid had terrified her, assuming she was next, she’d grabbed Angela, crawled under the table and held her hand over the crying girl’s mouth, telling her it would be fine.

She hadn’t known the reason for the raid only that Hades’ must have enemies a mile long.Fucking evil bastard.

She hadn’t known in those paralyzing moments of hearing scuffed feet, muffled deep voices that salvation was coming.

From Rider.Jesus. Did that happen? She really wasn’t sure.

It's said no one looks good in their darkest hour; when despair, terror, unmitigated rock bottom has swallowed you whole, who could put their best face present for that.

Zara tried to stand strong, to lift her chin and display herself in a way that wouldn't have any of those tall intimidating men look down on her with less than complimentary thoughts in their eyes.

She couldn't focus on the periphery, not when a set of the bluest eyes she'd ever seen held her steady. Unblinking.

Twin points of accusation.

Shivering under such abstract scrutiny, there was no way to emerge victorious in anything about tonight.

Sure, she was out of that hellhole.God. She was out of there.

She was dizzy with it and even swayed.

Suddenly he'd moved like lightening for someone so huge, and was in front of her.

"Steady, babe. Come on, we gotta get ... fuck, I got no idea.Jesus. What a clusterfuck. What were you doing there?"

His arm slipped around her waist holding her up.

She stiffened with the contact

"Tiny, bring some blankets to the common room, and coffee, a lot of fucking hot coffee. Hawk, you wanna get hold of Grinder, see how he's getting on locating that bastard. Easy there, Zara, easy girl. No one is going to hurt you here, but we gotta sit your ass down before you fall and the kid ain't looking any better. You can tell me what the fuck you were doing over at Westbank with the Raging Rebels while you eat something."

Her heart started beating faster, all irregular as if protecting itself from this new environment, knowing the panic she was feeling it thumped and rolled, and her skin began to tingle irritably.

The air around her grew thick, stuffy, making it hard to breathe, why weren't her lungs working properly, she pulled in more air feeling the panic settle in. Lightheaded, her stomach clenched painfully.

Before she did something stupid like faint to the floor, she plonked herself to the nearest chair, a soft cushioned hardback with raised arms on either side. She wanted to ask for everyone not to look at her, she could feel all those eyes, what must they be thinking... she knew already, they saw the dirt and the filth and not much else.

Such accusations she was imagining; it tore at her mind.

That wasn’t who she was.Not really.

---