Page 19 of Savage Kingdom

“Damian needed something handled,” I spat at him in hopes his scowl would go away. “We might have an arrangement, but you will always come second to what the organization needs.”

His jaw went taut at my comment. Yoro would never be a priority for me. Damian and the Sekt would always triumph.

“When you are in my kingdom, you play by my rules,” he stated.

Haven’t I always?

I lowered my head in submission at his response. I knew the game. I hated the rules, yet I played it well.

“I am at your command, master.”

He didn’t say anything. He just stared at me, then gave a nod and opened the door for me to follow him. I walked into the house, my skin crawling as I did so. Being forced to submit was one of the worst things in the world.

My life was not my own, and sometimes I feared it never would be.

* * *

Five lashes.

That’s how many times Yoro whipped my back for being tardy. This was his kingdom, and I was a mere subject to him. It was part of the contract that when I stepped foot in Chicago, I was his. Outside of this fucking place, I was feared. My name trembled from dying men’s lips—one day, maybe even his.

He whipped me, and then he fucked me. He tarnished my body, and then once I was weak and bloody, he worshiped me as if I was royalty.

Outside of this house, I was.

Since Yoro wasn’t stupid and he only trusted me as far as he could throw me, he left me cuffed. The floor was cold against my bare ass. The see-through nightgown was bullshit; it didn’t lessen the cold. My arms were sore from being over my head; they were looped through one of the handles in the armoire. My back ached against the wood. The whoopings I got last night needed tending.

Still, I had been in worse situations. At least this time, I knew Yoro would eventually come back. He would force us to bathe in some bullshit rose-petal bath to soothe my skin. He would feed me, put pomade on my wounds, lie to himself that one day I would fall for him or some shit.

Then I would leave this hellhole, go stain my black soul a little more, and come crawling back when I was needed.

Keep your friends close…

All my enemies were as close to me as I could get without arousing suspicion. Patience was a virtue, and boy did it cost me to have it, but that was neither here nor there.

My head snapped up when I heard noises. It sounded like footsteps, but I knew it was way too early for Yoro to be back. He had just left for some meetings in the city, and I had calculated him to be gone for about five hours. Surely, it was too soon?

I took a deep breath, ready to put a remorseful mask in place.

Then I heard a noise. I cocked my head to the side as if that would let me hear more. The steps that got closer were slow, unhurried, but light…cautious. There was a shadow that was getting closer.

What game was Yoro playing now?

Across the room at the entrance of the hall was a man. My heart sped up when I realized I was a target at the moment, but I didn’t dare make a sound. He was tall—then again, everyone looked tall to me. He was also slim, wearing head-to-toe black but no mask on his handsome face. There was a youthfulness to his demeanor that made him seem…safe.

He leaned back, taking out a small gun, and looked down the hall to make sure it was still clear. He then grabbed something from his back pocket and put it behind one of the statues adorning the hall.

He then made his way into the room with another bug in hand. He stopped dead the moment the furniture I was cuffed to came into view.

Since I was a child,I knew I was different from my peers. They were all playing with toys, cars, dolls, and I was alone reading about aliens and different worlds.

My parents were murdered when I was three.

I don’t remember much and when I did I tried to forget it. Doctors figured I’d seen enough. It made sense for my abnormal behavior. I became socially disconnected.

There’s a lot of things kids did that were considered normal. My hobbies involved none of them. Once I noticed my wards and doctors become concerned, I stopped talking about everything I thought would be a red flag.

I was ten when I realized I didn’t think like the other kids around me. I was way outside the box. By the time I got to high school, I was qualified for Mensa.

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