Page 28 of Savage Kingdom

My mouth stayed shut as he bound my feet. I was failing miserably at acting weak—and he knew it. He turned me on my stomach, then left me there on the bed.

Now that my body was resting, the adrenaline started to leave my body. My throat burned like lava, trying to come out of my mouth. My back ached from the unattended wounds from last night and stuck to the fabric of the blouse. My foot was still bleeding. Not like it was earlier, but it would cause me discomfort for some time.

Pain shouldn’t be my priority; staying alive was. One thing I did know was that Gideon was either a mercenary, spy, or worked for a syndicate.

You didn’t become fearless without some muscle power at your back. He had a plan that went to shit, but had another lined up in seconds. He was also British, that eliminated cartels, mafias, triads in the area. They tended to stick with their kin.

The only way I would make it out alive was if my shadow was paying attention and didn’t get lost in the chaos.

* * *

Sometimes I forgotI wasn’t a machine. Since I left Russia three days ago, I’d been awake, just a nap here or there. I didn’t know how much time had passed before I heard Gideon come back to the room.

“Yeah, I’ll be quick,” he said.

I didn’t have the energy to remain alert. I needed to conserve my strength and my voice. The less I talked, the less thirsty I would be.

I closed my eyes with all pretense of resting when I heard Gideon’s sharp intake of breath. Then I felt him coming near me like a tidal wave. My shirt was exposed, and I knew what he must’ve found.

“How many?” Gideon asked through gritted teeth.

I didn’t answer. My throat was near burning, and I didn’t have time for useless questions.

The bed creaked with his weight. I felt him before he touched me. Like a cloak of rage covering me—protecting me. It was ironic since he’d threatened to hurt me.

My eyes shut before I could flinch. The pads of his fingers were calloused, clashing softly against my marred skin.

Why was he touching me?

Why did he care?

I saw a burst of colors from how tightly I shut my eyes, as if that would stop the human contact.

My shirt slid up inch by inch, and I felt Gideon’s hand touch every lash, both fresh and the ones that had long ago scarred.

“You’re no use to me dead,” he said, his voice sounding a bit ragged.

“A few scars won’t kill me.” My voice was like sandpaper.

“You’d be a hindrance,” he replied.

I stayed still as he moved around the room. When I felt him get closer, my heart started thumping furiously. My life was in his hands, and I had my eyes closed, waiting for his next move. This was not who I was. This is not who I wanted to be. I was tired of being used for the pleasure of men, whether it be for sexual gratifications or political advancement.

My whole life, I had been the perfect pawn. Why give me claws if I wasn’t allowed to kill those who harmed me the most? They made me a weapon and told me to find peace.

There was my duty to the Sekt, for the cause I had bled and kneeled for, and I didn’t have anything to show for it.

My father once told me I felt too much. That I needed to get rid of my emotions; it was the only way I would thrive. My babushka said I didn’t feel enough. That I had the power to change her wrongs, and now I was in the middle of what was right and wrong—blind obedience or traitorous espionage.

“Fuck.”I hissed the word as my back arched. Pain radiated from my lower back, a sting so sharp that it made my ears ring.

“They’re infected already. Sorry, Petal, but this shit will hurt.”

That was all the warning he gave me as he cleaned my back with alcohol. I bit my lips to try and stop the pain, the metallic taste of blood coating my tongue.

Emotions were a weakness, and at that moment, I felt weak.

When Gideon was finished, he gently turned me around. Our eyes clashed, and he was not horrified nor disgusted—completely blank whiskey eyes that I wanted to get drunk on.

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