Page 20 of Burdens
I’d spent most of my life trying to find where I fit and figure out what I was good at. Teachers and people around me had always looked down on me, telling me I’d never achieve anything because I didn’t excel in the departmenttheydeemed important.
My older sister had worked two jobs to support me and my brother after our mother had abandoned us when I was fourteen years old tofind herself. So the pressure to succeed at something,anything,had weighed heavily on me. She’d given up so much to raise us, and I’d made it a mission to get better grades and find what I would do for the rest of my life.
It had been a daunting task, but when the Academy had a guest lecturer speak at Navarra during my first year there, I knew at that moment that I would do everything I could to get in.
Being here would grant me opportunities I wouldn’t get otherwise and, besides, kicking ass for a living didn’t sound too bad. As my therapist would say, channeling the anger I harboredagainst my dead-beat parents into something good was a step in the right direction.
The heavy footsteps came to a halt and everyone straightened their spines and put on their best faces, hoping to impress him.
A girl in front of me let out a low whistle and murmured to the girl next to her, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’d heard he was gorgeous, but holy fuck.”
I knew of Noah Brown, but since he’d allegedly refused to be photographed, I’d never seen what he looked like. But from the small glimpses I could grasp between the towering bodies in front of me, she was right.
I couldn’t see his face yet, but my attention snagged to his body. His navy shirt molded to his arms, and the sleeves were rolled up, giving a delicious view of his forearms.
I’d promised myself last night would be the last time for a long time so I could focus on training, and hewasmy teacher, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t look.
He finally cleared his throat and the murmurs around me came to a full stop. “All right, everyone, welcome to the Academy. I’m Agent Noah Brown and I’ll be your instructor for the duration of your time here,” a strangely familiar deep voice said.
The girl in front of me moved, finally giving me a full look at the person standing in front of us.
My throat closed up and blood pounded in my ears, the whooshing sound blocking out anything that was being said next, if he was even saying anything because I could barely focus on breathing.
My lungs seemed to collapse inside my chest, making it impossible to take a deep breath as I awaited the inevitability of his gaze landing on me. And when his eyes finally met mine, myvision narrowed and memories of our night came crashing back in a full tidal wave.
His mouth on me, his cock inside me while I rode him, his lips devouring mine as I experienced the hottest night of my life.
And his parting words.
“It’s already broken.”
CHAPTER 5
AMALIA (PRESENT)
For a few moments,when my eyes met his, time stood still, the seconds stretching longer than I ever thought was imaginable.
Memories slammed against the walls I’d erected when I became Ines, threatening to crumble my carefully constructed new reality brick by brick. My heart slammed furiously against my ribcage and the walls of the rather large cell we were in felt like they were caving in, enclosing us in a much smaller place where infinite moments we’d shared in the past fought against our new realities.
Me as his captor and him as my captive.
Both prisoners of our new circumstances.
I quickly realized that I would need much better defenses against him if his simple presence rattled me this much after years of building a barrier between who I once was and who I’d become.
Especially after he’d left.
My captive’s eyes widened. “Amalia?” His voice was barely above a whisper and deeper than I remembered, but I recognized it nonetheless.
I found myself taking him in, telling myself that’s what I always did with everyone I encountered so that I could store any details to my bank of information.
Yeah, right, my mind mocked me.
His bruised wrists were bound together with a rope chained to a pair of shackles hanging from the ceiling. His white shirt was torn, revealing various cuts on his torso, and blood matted the fabric of his shirt on his right shoulder.
I’d been told that one of Hamza’s men had injured him when they’d intercepted him, but apparently no one had tended to his wound. Something I’d have to unfortunately take care of.
If he was to die on my watch, it wouldn’t be from an easily preventable infection.
