Black Thorns (Thorns Duet #2) by Rina Kent

But I can’t tell Naomi that or she’ll be more scared and hurt than she already is.

The cold concrete floor scrapes against my thigh and palm as I slowly sit up and lean against the wall. Despite her protests.

“You’re hurt…” she whines, but gives up trying to stop me and helps me into a comfortable position.

Fresh tears stream down her cheeks as she carefully maneuvers herself so that she’s on my injured side. She’s still clutching her T-shirt with determination, as if letting go will cause the life to evaporate out of me.

Or allow me to bleed out.

I don’t like seeing her cry. Well, I do, but only when I chase and conquer her, because I know she enjoys it, too.

I love her fuck-me tears.

Her ‘no, please’ that are actually ‘yes, please’ tears.

But not these.

The pain and desperation in them fucking gut me.

I dislike it when she’s sad or hurt. It’s even more painful than if they were my own feelings. I can brush those off, treat them efficiently and push them to the background.

I wish I could do the same with Naomi’s. I wish I could take away her feelings and treat them as my own so that she’s no longer hurting.

Is that…what empathy feels like?

“Hey…” I palm her cheek, thumbing away the moisture gathered there. “I’m really fine.”

“You don’t seem fine,” she murmurs.

“It looks worse than it actually is. Do you want to make it better?”

“Of course.”

“Then stop crying, baby. That hurts more than the wound itself.”

She sniffles, wiping at her face with the back of her hand.

Static fills the room again and both of us stiffen as the same voice from earlier speaks again, “Very touching. You nearly put me to sleep.”

“What do you want from us?” Naomi’s gaze searches the room and when I do the same, I spot a few blinking cameras in the corners and a white speaker from which his voice reaches us.

“I already told you. A game.”

“Are you one of my father’s men?”

“What gave you that idea?”

“Mom said you were.”

“Sato-san says a lot of things. It’s better not to believe them all. Now, for our game…”

“We’re not playing,” I grunt out, then wince.

Sick people like him get off on driving others to a point of no return. They like stripping people down to their most primitive forms where they can freely exploit them. There’s no way in fuck we’ll give him the joy of seeing us spiral out of control.

“Who said you have a choice, Quarterback? Either play or there will be no water and food. Oh, and your wound will get infected and you’ll die.”

My lips twist and I curse under my breath. I should’ve known they’d use our basic needs against us.

There must be a way we can thwart his plans…

“If we agree, will you get him help?” Naomi asks.

I shake my head. She’s playing right into his hands by revealing that she cares about my well-being. I would’ve grabbed and kissed the fuck out of her under different circumstances, but right now, we don’t know what we’re actually dealing with.

This could be a rogue group that’s rebelling against her father. Or maybe her father himself is a sick bastard who doesn’t care about putting his own daughter into dire situations.

Until we figure out their angle, we need to be extra careful about our survival, and that means revealing as little as possible about ourselves.

“No promises,” the man, Ren, as Naomi called him, says. “Now, the game. We’ll start with the rules. No lies. I mean it. We’ll know when you lie and if you do, there will be punishment.”

“What type of game is this?” I ask.

“I’m glad you asked, Quarterback. We call this survival of the fittest. Just like your tattoo.”

I don’t miss the smile in his voice as he said the last part.

He knows about my tattoo and he’s Japanese.

There’s no way in fuck this whole thing is a coincidence.

“Now, let’s start. I’ll go easy on you the first round. One of you will tell me a deep, dark secret that no one in the world knows about. Do that and you’ll get water. Bottled, not whatever filthy shit is dripping from that faucet.”

“Don’t say anything,” I whisper to Naomi.

“We need water,” she murmurs back, her hold steady on my shoulder. “Your lips are chapped and dry, and you were bleeding out not so long ago.”

“I’ll be fine. If you play into his hand, it’ll only break us.”

“I don’t care as long as we survive.”

“Not to be a fun-ruiner, but you have ten seconds before your chance is over.” Ren pauses. “Seven, six, five…”

“I was molested when I was nine,” Naomi blurts, her lips and chin trembling.

My fist clenches at my side, not only because of her state or that she’s playing Ren’s game, but also because of the reminder of what she’s been through.

She’s not supposed to divulge that for a sick game.

She’s not supposed to rip open her wound and tell a fucking stranger her most intimate secret.

“That’s not a deep, dark secret,” Ren says.