Chapter 5

Ina stepped into the living room. The sunlight streaming through the dirty windows was blinding after the darkness of the basement. Dust motes danced in the air.

She scanned the room. Behind the sofa, in the shadow of the overturned furniture, she saw a flash of gold.

Angel. He was sitting on the floor, his knees pulled to his chest. He was still shivering. The bandages she had left him were wrapped around his torso in a messy, haphazard way. Some of the cuts were still bleeding through the gauze.

Ina sighed. She walked to the coffee table and picked up the bottle of disinfectant. She moved slowly, making sure her footsteps were audible, toward the back of the sofa.

Angel heard her. His golden ears flattened against his head. He pressed himself harder into the wall, a low whine escaping his throat.

Ina stopped a few feet away. She crouched down, bringing herself to his level. She held up her hands, showing him the bottle and the clean cotton pads she had grabbed.

"Let me redo this," she said, her voice soft. "If you don't clean it properly, it will get infected."

Angel shook his head frantically. Tears welled in his eyes. The original owner's memories were too strong. Every touch meant pain.

Ina didn't push. She sat down on the floor, a half-meter away. She placed the bottle between them. "I won't hurt you," she said. "I didn't hurt you earlier, did I?"

Angel hesitated. He looked at her, his blue eyes filled with confusion. She was right. She had given him water. She had backed away. It didn't make sense.

"Target loyalty fluctuating. Current status: Extreme fear mixed with confusion."

Ina saw the crack in his armor. She inched forward, moving slowly. She reached out and gently touched the edge of the sloppy bandage on his arm.

Angel went rigid. He squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood. He waited for the pain.

But it didn't come. Ina's fingers were careful. She untied the knot, her touch light. She avoided the raw skin. Her hands were large and calloused, but her movements were surprisingly gentle.

Angel opened his eyes. He stared at her hands, confused by the lack of cruelty.

Suddenly, the front door exploded inward.

The sound of splintering wood was deafening. Ina and Angel both jumped.

A man stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the bright sunlight. He was tall, his shoulders broad. His silver hair was disheveled, and his clothes were dirty and torn. In his hand, he carried a bag of cheap nutrient fluid.

Denton Carr. The white tiger.

He had just come back from a day of hard labor in the city. He had been working to pay off the original owner's debts.

His eyes swept the room. He saw Ina crouching over Angel. He saw the bottle of disinfectant in her hand. He saw Angel cowering against the wall.

The angle was bad. From where he stood, it looked like she was forcing something on the boy. The memories of the original owner's "medicine"-the acid, the poison-flashed through his mind.

His amber pupils contracted into thin slits. A deep, terrifying roar ripped from his chest. He dropped the bag and lunged.

He was fast. Faster than Harlan. He crossed the room in two strides.

His hand closed around Ina's wrist. His grip was crushing. He yanked her away from Angel with brutal force.

Ina lost her balance. Her heavy, momentum-laden body was violently shoved backward. She couldn't catch her footing, stumbling back several clumsy steps under the sheer power of the beastman before crashing heavily into the glass coffee table.

The glass shattered. The sound was sharp and violent. Pain flared across her back and arms. Shards of glass bit into her skin.

"You crazy bitch!" Denton roared. He stood over her, his chest heaving, his eyes wild with fury. "You promised! You promised if I went out to work, you wouldn't touch him!"

Ina lay in the wreckage of the table. She pushed herself up, wincing. Her hand was cut, blood dripping from her fingers onto the floor.

Angel peeked out from behind the sofa. He looked at the furious Denton, then at the bleeding Ina. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but no sound came out.

Ina looked up at Denton. She didn't scream. She didn't cry. She didn't beg. She just stared at him, her eyes cold and assessing. It was the look of a soldier evaluating a threat, not a victim fearing an abuser.

Denton faltered. The coldness in her eyes threw him off. This wasn't the whining, hysterical woman he knew.

Ina stood up. She wiped the blood from her hand on her pants. Her voice was low, cutting through the tension like a blade.

"If you don't need your eyes, I can donate them for you. Look closely at what I was doing."

She kicked a piece of glass aside. She pointed at the floor. There lay the disinfectant, the cotton pads, and the unused bandages. No acid. No poison. Just medicine.

Denton followed her finger. He saw the supplies. He looked back at Angel, noticing for the first time that the messy bandages had been partially unwound, and the wounds beneath were clean.

His body went stiff. The anger drained from his face, replaced by a stunned confusion.