Page 74 of Sacrifice
"He threw me against the counter. Started saying things. What he was going to do to me." Her voice drops. "Then he tried. Got his hands on my shirt, ripped it. Said I'd do until they found you. That maybe they'd keep us both."
Bile rises in my throat.
Behind me, I hear Emil take in a sharp breath, feel the violence radiating off him.
"But I had that knife you gave me for Christmas. The little one on my keychain." A ghost of a smile crosses her face. "Pink handle, remember? You said it was cute but functional."
"You stabbed him?"
"Caught him right in the hand. He screamed, called me a bitch. That's when his partner hit me with something. Baseball bat, maybe? Things got fuzzy after that."
"Jesus." I can barely breathe. "Elfe, I'm so?—"
"If you apologize one more time, I'm kicking you out." She tries to smile but winces. "I'm alive. Virtue intact. Could've been worse."
"Could've been better if I'd been home."
"Then we'd both be in hospital beds. Or worse." She looks at Emil again. "You're going to kill them, right? The men who did this?"
"Yes," Emil says simply. No hesitation, no qualification. Just pure fact.
"Good." She settles back against her pillows. "When you find them, tell them Elfe Eriksson says hello. Right before you put bullets in their heads."
"Elfe!"
"What? They tried to rape me, Saga. Beat me. Left me bleeding on our kitchen floor." Her eyes blaze despite the painmedication. "I want them dead. Does that make me a bad person?"
"No," Emil answers for me. "Makes you a survivor."
"Damn right." She turns back to me. "So you're staying with tall, dark, and deadly?"
"For now."
"Good. His place probably has better security than Fort Knox." She yawns, the medication pulling her under. "Plus, bet he's got a better bed than your shitty ass oversized futon."
"Elfe!"
"What? Girl's gotta have priorities." Her eyes flutter closed. "Stay safe, Saga. Both of you."
"We will," I promise, but she's already drifting off.
We stay until she's fully asleep, her breathing evening out into something peaceful.
I fix her blankets, tuck them around her carefully.
She looks so young like this, all the fight drained out of her.
The bruises stand out starkly against her pale skin—purple and green and yellow, a roadmap of violence.
"I want to stay," I whisper. "What if she wakes up alone?"
"Her parents will be back soon," Emil says gently. "And Bodul's not going anywhere."
"Still..."
"Saga." He touches my shoulder. "You can't protect her by sitting here. The best thing you can do is let us handle the threat."
I know he's right, but it's hard to leave.
