Page 18 of Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

The sincerity in his words is a balm to my weary soul, but it also serves as a stark reminder of the precariousness of my situation. I'm playing a dangerous game. And as much as I wish things could be different, I know that my path is a solitary one.

A rustle in the bushes slices through the stillness of the night. I turn sharply, my heart lodged in my throat, only to exhale a sigh of relief when Garron and Lazir emerge. They're bloodied, their armor dented and scored from the battle, but they're alive.

Relief washes over me, and I rush toward them. But Lazir waves me off, his gruff voice cutting through my concern. "Tend to Garron. He's worse off."

I nod, swallowing hard as I approach Garron. His ice-blue eyes, usually so cold and unyielding, are now clouded with pain.My hands tremble slightly as I reach for his wound on his shoulder, but before I can touch it, his hand shoots out, gripping my wrist tightly.

His eyes bore into mine, the intensity of his gaze making my breath hitch. "Who are you?" he growls, his voice laced with suspicion.

Calo bristles behind me. "Garron, don’t start with this nonsense," he says, his voice tinged with annoyance.

I force a calm smile, even as Garron's grip tightens around my wrist. "I'm Mara. The slave you rescued," I say, my voice steady despite the discomfort.

Garron's eyes narrow, his lip curling into a snarl. "You're hiding something. If you betray us…" His voice drops to a dangerous whisper, and a shiver runs down my spine. "I'll kill you myself."

Anger flares within me,hot and fierce, but I mask it with a soft smile, my gaze never leaving his. "I assure you, Garron, my interests are aligned with yours," I say, my voice sugary sweet.

I remove his bloodied bandage and press the herbs against his wound harder than necessary. He hisses in pain, his grip on my wrist loosening. "What the hell are you doing?" he grunts, glaring at me.

"Sorry," I say. "It's just... these herbs can help stop the bleeding and prevent infection. But they need to be pressed firmly into the wound."

Calo steps closer, his green eyes filled with concern as he watches us. "Mara knows what she's doing, Garron. Let her help you," he rumbles.

Garron's gaze flickers between Calo and me, his jaw clenching as he gives a curt nod. I continue to apply pressureto his wound, the scent of the healing herbs mingling with the metallic tang of blood.

As I work, my mind races. Garron's suspicion is a complication I hadn't anticipated. I need to tread carefully, to maintain their trust without revealing too much. It's a delicate balance, one that requires all of my cunning and wit.

I can feel Calo's gaze on me, his worry palpable even without words. I offer him a small, reassuring smile, hoping to convey a sense of calm I don't truly feel. This world—these minotaurs—are my lifeline, my means to an end. But as I look into Garron's wary eyes and feel the warmth of Calo's presence behind me, I can't help but feel a twinge of guilt.

They're risking everything for me, and yet, my ultimate goal remains unchanged. Revenge is a bitter pill, one that leaves a trail of destruction in its wake.

I finish dressing Garron's wound, my hands stained with the evidence of our shared struggle. "There," I say, my voice barely above a whisper.

I turn to Calo."Help me set up the tent?" I ask. The words come out more pleading than I intend, betraying my exhaustion.

Calo nods, but Garron's voice cuts through the night air like a blade. "No. We're moving," he growls. His ice-blue eyes scan the treeline, shoulders tense. "There's a lowtown nearby. We'll stay there if we keep to ourselves."

I bite back a sigh of frustration, my fingers unconsciously finding the worn edges of my necklace. Every time I try to connect with him, to breach that wall of ice he's built, he pushes back harder.

"The wounded need rest," I say, keeping my voice soft, reasonable. "Even a few hours would?—"

"We move now," Garron snaps, already shouldering his pack. The moonlight catches the fresh bandages on his shoulder, spots of red seeping through where my herbs haven't fully stemmed the bleeding.

Lazir exchanges a look with me, his amber eyes unreadable in the darkness. He shrugs, as if to say 'what can you do?' and follows his leader.

I fall into step beside Calo, who offers me a sympathetic smile. The forest floor crunches beneath our feet, wet leaves and broken twigs marking our passage. My legs protest each step, but I force myself to keep pace.

I press my lips together, swallowing the words I want to say. How does Garron expect me to trust him when he won't extend the same courtesy? But I know the answer - he doesn't want my trust. He doesn't want anything from me except the gold I promised.

The crystal in my satchel seems to grow heavier with each step. If he knew what I really carried, what I really planned... I push the thought away.

16

LAZIR

The lowtown is a cesspool of life and filth. We arrive when the moon hangs heavy in the sky, the air thick with the scent of unwashed bodies and stale ale. The two-day journey has been punishing and our bodies scream for respite.

Calo, always eager to please, nods at my command to find new mounts. His eyes betray a hint of relief at the task, a chance to escape the oppressive tension that still hangs between us and Mara. Garron follows Mara and me into the nearby inn, its walls pulsating with the hum of various species mingling in the murk.

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