Rowena finally stopped, casting the whip aside with a satisfied toss and turned away with practiced elegance.
Scarlett lay face-down on the cold stone, drifting between searing pain and the suffocating numbness of hopelessness. Her vision blurred; all she heard was the faint thud of her own heart.
Darkness took her.
***
When something small and insistent nudged her back, Scarlett came up gasping, agony returning like a wave. She couldn’t help the sound that ripped out of her.
“Why are you here?” she croaked.
Tristan sat at her side, expression unreadable but steady. “I came to get you.”
Her confusion was immediate. Hadn’t he always hated her?
He didn’t answer with words. He wrapped a dark coat around her shredded back and tried to lift her. “I couldn’t stand to watch them ruin you with their scheming. I value talent, I suppose.”
“Run,” he told her.
Scarlett could hardly stand; her weight sagged against him.
“What about you?” she whispered.
He didn’t hesitate. He hoisted her into his arms and, knowing the base like the back of his hand, darted between cameras and patrols with practiced ease.