Page 8 of Twisted Empire

4

Elias

I waiteduntil my father was too distracted by festival goings-on to check up on what I was doing, and then I headed upstairs. There were two guards posted up outside Tatum’s room: one directly outside the door, and the other right across the hall, twiddling his thumbs with boredom.

Two guards for one door? What the hell did they think she was capable of?

I strode toward them. The one closest to the door stepped forward, blocking my entry. “Sorry. Mr. King said no one can go in except whoever takes her meals to her.”

My brows pulled together. “I am Mr. King,” I said, focusing my laser-like gaze right on his eyes. “And this is my slave, at least for the next two days. I’ll visit her whenever I see fit.”

He faltered. “I… I meant the other….”

“I know what you meant, but if you don’t step aside, you’ll find yourself out on the fucking street without a job. That goes for both of you.” I shot the other guard a warning glance.

I didn’t like to throw my name around and threaten people’s livelihoods, but sometimes it was necessary.

“Yes, sir,” the first guard muttered, stepping aside.

“I need you to do me a favor,” I said before I turned the handle. I pulled some cash out of my pocket and dangled it in front of him. “Make sure no one else comes in here, no matter what. Especially my father. If you can manage that, I’ll quadruple this on my way out.”

The guard’s face brightened. “Yes, sir.”

The second guard frowned and stepped over. “Mark, his father is the Mr. King. The society president,” he said. “You can’t—”

He waved his hand. “It’s fine. I’ll figure it out.”

I smiled thinly. My father was right about one thing in this world. Almost anyone’s loyalty could be bought for the right sum of money. Mark the guard was willing to sell his for only a few hundred dollars. Good to know.

I passed the cash to him. “One more thing. From now on, only one guard will be needed outside this door. She’s a girl, not a fucking demon.”

“Yes, sir.”

I entered the room. The brocade bedspread was rumpled, but there was no sign of Tatum. Frowning, I stepped into the bathroom to find that empty as well. The only other place she could be was the closet.

As I headed to the door, I heard wrenching sobs and heavy breathing. Quietly, I stepped inside to see her crumpled in a ball on the floor. One hand was near her face, the other was resting on her stomach.

She registered my presence and looked up. There was black and brown makeup streaked down her cheeks, and a dab of pinkish-red lipstick had somehow made its way from her mouth to her chin. She looked like a total mess, but she was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.

The second she realized it was me, her face contorted. All sadness and gloom was gone, instantly replaced with rage.

“You,” she said, leaping up. “How dare you come here now?”

“I know what you’re thinking, but I just want to—”

My words were cut off by a hard slap cracking across my left cheek. I winced, more out of surprise than pain. Tatum didn’t even look afraid of my reaction, like she did the first time she raised a hand to me all those months ago.

“Do whatever you want to me. Punish me. I don’t care. They’re going to kill me soon anyway,” she hissed.

I rubbed my smarting cheek. “I deserved that,” I muttered.

“No shit. Now get out!” Fresh tears spilled down her face, and she pushed on my chest. Pain had settled into her blue eyes. She wasn’t just angry. She was brokenhearted. The thought made my stomach curl.

I grabbed her wrists. “No. I need to explain.”

“There’s nothing to explain. I know everything!” She lunged sideways, nearly ripping her arms right out of my grip.

I clamped my hands tighter around her wrists and pushed her back toward a cupboard door. “Look at me. Just look at me. I don’t expect you to believe me, not right now, but I need you to give me one more chance. Okay?”

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