Page 99 of Rogue Mission
A vicious slap brings him back.
“What kind of experiments?” I yell into his face, bending over his bound, bleeding body.
He blinks, moans, clears his throat. “I really don’t know. He doesn’t tell me. Just that it’s high-level, high-security. Anyone who goes there doesn’t come back unless he says so.”
The blood in my veins speeds, focus sharpening. “Who is he keeping there now?”
“I heard they grabbed someone. A man for collateral.”
He’s got fucking tears in his eyes now, and I want to grind them off his face on the concrete.
Who does he think he is to get to cry when Rosalie’s life is on the line and Beast is doing everything to bring Westerly’s corruption to an end?
“That’s all I know. I swear on my life,” he whimpers, staring at the pool of blood growing around his destroyed ankle.
“Once a liar, always a liar,” I say coldly.
Not a bone in my body remorseful for hurting him. “This is not over.”
I need to know everything. And I will. Beast is on that island. And whatever Westerly’s doing there, it’s bad enough to warrant permanent silence for anyone who sees it.
When I step back, I pull out my phone. “Rosalie, we’re done here.”
She stands, legs visibly shaking but holding steady. She doesn’t look at Parson. Just at me.
“What do we do with him?” she asks quietly.
“Marshall will send some cleaners to collect him. We leave him here until they arrive.”
She whispers, “And if Westerly’s men find him first?”
“They won’t.” I’m already texting, coordinating with Marshall.
Rosalie nods, but she’s still watching me. Still cataloging. Processing.
I pocket my phone and move on tense legs toward her, stopping a few feet away. Close enough to touch, but I don’t. Can’t.
Because now she’s seen it. Knows what I’m capable of. What I’ve done in the name of protecting people.
What I’d do again without hesitation if it meant keeping her safe.
“You okay?” I ask, knowing it’s a stupid question. She might say she is, but down deep, this woman is traumatized all to hell.
“Are you?” she counters.
I don’t know how to answer that.
She closes the distance between us, one hand lifting to my chest. Right over my heart. “You did what you had to do.”
“Doesn’t make it right.”
“Doesn’t make it wrong either.” Her eyes search mine. “You protected me. Got information that might save Beast. That’s what matters.”
“You shouldn’t have seen that,” I tell her roughly. “Shouldn’t have to see what I am.”
“What you are,” she says firmly, “is the man who saved my life. Multiple times. The man who’d walk up to the devil to keep me safe. The man I love.”
The words hit like a physical blow, stealing my breath, making my vision blur.
