Rhys Read Free

shape to make it very far.
    Her face was smeared with blood. Some of it dried, some fresh. She favored her left side as she cradled her limp right arm close to her body.
    Dear God, what had Dylan done to this woman?
    Rhys put his hands out in front of him as he took another couple of steps toward her.
    “It’s okay,” he said, making sure to keep his voice steady and low. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
    Her whole body tensed.
    Rhys took another hesitant step toward her, and that was apparently enough to make up her mind. She pushed away from the wall and ran.
    At least she tried to. She didn’t make it more than a stride before her legs gave out under her.
    Rhys rushed forward, catching her before she could do any more damage to herself. She struggled in his arms. He could tell she was using every last bit of strength that she had, but it wasn’t much.
    “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said, trying to calm her thrashing. “I’m going to get you out of here.”
    She stopped squirming in his arms long enough to lift her face to his. Rhys found himself staring down into a pair of wide hazel eyes. They were strangely sharp and clear for how banged up her body was. He saw fear in their depths, plenty of pain too, but more than that, he saw resolve.
    “Why?” Her voice cracked.
    “Because I’m not a monster.”
    She eyed him skeptically, but, after a long beat, she nodded.
    Rhys pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around her slim shoulders before tucking her next to his side. Her body might have been slight, but she was no fragile bird. This woman was a fighter.
    And she was going to have to be. His car might be just outside the front door, but Rhys knew there was still a hell of a long way to go until she was safe.

 
    Chapter Two
     
     
    “Can you walk or do you need me to carry you?”
    Tessa Rosenthal looked into the eyes of the man at her side. They were the clearest blue that she’d ever seen—the color of deep glacial ice, or an alpine lake. They gave nothing away.
    She had no idea who he was, or what he was doing in Anders’ house. All she knew was that he wasn’t dragging her back to Dylan. It wasn’t much, but it would have to be enough.
    It seemed that climbing the stairs out of Anders’ basement had sapped all of her energy. Tessa feared she’d taken herself as far as she could under her own power. As much as she hated to admit it, if she was going to get out of this house, she was going to need some help.
    And it looked like this stone-faced stranger was the only volunteer. So, she would have to take the risk of trusting him…for now, at least. There didn’t seem to be any other choice.
    But it looked like she’d taken too long to tell him so. He bent down, swinging his arm under her knees, ready to lift her up.
    “I can walk,” Tessa said, in a rush. She stumbled backwards a step and out of his reach. She wasn’t sure her words were true, but wasn’t about to let him believe she was totally helpless.
    “Okay,” the stranger said. He wrapped his arm around her back, taking care not to touch her shoulder.
    Tessa hated that she had to lean on him for support as they stepped through the glass doors and out into Anders’ meticulously manicured garden.
    Her gaze darted around the edges of the lawn. She knew Anders had packed the house full of guards. It was only a matter of time before they were spotted.
    Her mystery savior seemed to know it too. He kept her on the inside of the path, close to the protective cover of the wall. His steps were slow, but deliberate. They weren’t making great time, but they were steadily inching toward the front of the house.
    They made it all the way to the corner before he stopped. He swiveled her around so that her shoulders were propped up against the wall, before peering around it. His lips were pressed together tight when he pulled back.
    Tessa didn’t have to ask what that meant. There were still guards at the door. They’d probably been given