Page 10 of Princess Broken

Crouching, I’m again a teen girl, cowering in the basement room of the Yekaterinburg house, where my family is hostage.

Bolshevik guards swarm the room, shooting us all in a chaotic barrage of bullets. Dozens, hundreds of bullets and bayonet blades strike my family’s flesh indiscriminately. I will myself to stay still, to make myself small against the wall.

I must avoid the bullets that continue to fly through the room for what feels like hours, taking the lives of my parents, my older sisters, and our most loyal servants. The Bolshevik’s have no discernible plan, beyond inflicting maximum damage. They begin to argue about whether we children should be allowed to live. Some say that my little brother Alexei should die since he’s the heir. Others say there should be no witnesses.

A bullet pierces my body. My right shoulder is thrown back. Searing pain floods my mind, and another bullet perforates my thigh. I watch, stunned, as blood spreads through the finely woven fabric of my favorite silk gown, worn for the portrait we were told would be taken.

I shake my head, trying to fight the memories.

What is happening now is real. I am in the Mariano headquarters. It’s as if someone has staged this massacre to re-enact my past trauma.

From my crouch, I glance through my fingers. Timur stands above me. He aims and shoots his crossbow, then he pulls a new bolt from under his jacket and reloads. He turns back to check on me, pointing his crossbow.

The four Mariano guards land on the edge of the table close by Timur. The largest swears as he pulls a bolt out from between his ribs. Blood has dampened his shirt, but the bolt clearly missed its target.

Timur raises his crossbow and aims, but then falls back.

I jump to the side to avoid him, and then horror steals the last of my senses.

My eyes are open, but my brain can’t process the scene.

It’s not possible. It can’t be real.

A wooden stake protrudes from Timur’s chest, and his once warm eyes stare up at me, lifeless, as blood soaks his cashmere sweater.

Huge shadows block the light above me.

The four Mariano guards jump off the table, their massive bodies towering above me.

Murderers! I try to shout, but the word is caught in the web of terror sealing my throat.

“Take her,” one of them says.

Shaking my head, I skitter away from them, trying to pull Timur’s body with me.

My back strikes the wall. Nowhere to go, I put my hands over my ears and I scream, hoping to at least drown out the sounds, to quiet the gunfire, the shouts of pain and…and the laughter coming from the other end of the table.

“Fuck your king. Fuck his deals,” Mariano calls out. “And fuck you, princess. You’re mine now.”

“Come.” One of Mariano’s guards opens a trap door, revealing a dark hole in the floor.

Another one of them grabs me, lifting me into his arms and holding me tight against his massive body. Before I can struggle, he drops down through the hole.

I scream, but the sound is muffled by his chest, and my heart migrates to my throat as we drop for what feels like a hundred feet. My vampire captor lands softly, easily absorbing the shock of our landing.

Still holding me, the massive vampire springs to the side, and the other three guards drop down behind us. My face buried in male chest, I can’t see, but I can tell that the other three have joined us.

I heard them land; I sense their presence, their breaths, each of their distinctively different scents and heartbeats, but my face is still pressed hard against the chest of the one who’s holding me, his powerful heartbeat penetrating my body.

“That way.” One of the vampires shouts. “Take her away from here. I’ll blow up the tunnel entrance.”

My whole world bounces, as the vampire holding me starts to run.

An explosion smashes into my ears. Then the heat of fire fills the air, followed by more explosions and the crash of rocks behind us.

Chapter Four

Ana

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