Page 30 of Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

Garron is a looming figure in the periphery of my vision. His silence is a palpable entity in the cave. But the sound of his axe against the sharpening stone is a constant, grating reminder of the danger that lurks just beyond our reach. I feel his eyes on me, and when I meet his gaze, I'm struck by the change in him. The hardness that I've come to expect has softened, replaced by a look that I can't quite decipher. It's as if the walls he's built around himself are slowly crumbling.

I watch them, these minotaurs who have become my unlikely guardians. Their transformation over the past week has been gradual, so subtle that I wonder if I'm imagining it. Lazir's gruffness has lost its edge, his commands now laced with an undercurrent of concern. Calo's laughter, once so carefree, is now tempered with a newfound seriousness. And Garron, the stern leader whose every word used to carry the weight of authority, now speaks in softer tones, his gaze often lingering on me with an intensity that I feel deep in my bones.

As I sit here,a helpless captive to my own injury, I can't help but question this sudden shift in dynamics. Have I become more than just a means to an end for them? The thought is both unsettling and oddly warming.

Calo's voice breaks through my thoughts, his tone light but insistent. "Eat, Mara." He motions to the plate in my lap, and I realize that I've been staring blankly at the food, lost in my own musings.

I offer him a small nod, reaching for a piece of fruit. The sweetness of it bursts on my tongue, a stark contrast to the bitterness of the herbs that Lazir had me drink earlier.

Garron sets his axe aside, crossing the cave in a few short strides. He crouches beside me, his eyes scanning my face with an intensity that makes my heart flutter in my chest. "You'relooking better," he says, his voice low and unexpectedly gentle. "But you need to rest. We can't afford any setbacks."

I swallow the last of the fruit, my gaze meeting his. "I'll rest," I assure him, the promise accompanied by a yawn that I can't quite suppress.

The rough stone ceiling of the cave swims before my eyes as sleep eludes me later that night. The wound in my side throbs with each breath, a constant reminder of the choice I never expected to make. Across the cave, Calo's soft snores mix with the crackling of the dying fire, while Lazir and Garron's massive forms rest in deeper shadows.

"Would they die for me now?" I whisper into the darkness, my voice barely a breath. The question twists something inside me, sharp and painful.

My fingers trace the outline of the crystal hidden in my skin. Two years of planning, of crafting the perfect revenge, and now... I close my eyes, but the image of Garron's shocked face when I took that arrow haunts me.

"Focus," I hiss to myself, pressing my palms against my eyes. "Remember Diane. Remember why you're here."

But the wordsring hollow in the quiet cave. My chest tightens as I recall how Garron pushed me away from that first arrow, risking himself despite his distrust. How Lazir fought like a demon when I was bleeding. How Calo's eyes shine with something dangerously close to love.

"You can't soften now," I tell myself firmly, but my voice wavers. "You have a mission. The crystal, the rebellion, everything depends on it."

A tear slides down my cheek, unexpected and unwelcome. I brush it away angrily, but more follow. The weight of their trust,their protection, their care – it's becoming a chain around my heart, binding me to them in ways I never planned.

The next morning, the cave hums with quiet activity. Lazir's rhythmic strokes against his blade are a steady backdrop to the softer sounds of Calo's movements as he organizes our supplies. The metallic rasp of steel on stone is familiar now, a sound I've come to associate with safety, with the promise of protection.

I push myself upright. My wounds ache but the pain is muted now, a bearable discomfort rather than the agonizing torment it once was.

Gathering my courage, I open my mouth to speak. My voice, when it comes, is steadier than I expect. "We need to keep moving," I say.

Lazir and Calo turn toward me almost in unison. Calo frowns, the crease between his brows deepening with concern, as he replies, "You're not fully healed yet?—"

I cut him off, my tone firm, leaving no room for argument. "I'm fine. We've wasted enough time. We need to get to the Murdok dark elf estate," I insist.

The cave falls silent, the only sound the faint crackling of the fire. Garron's massive form fills the entrance as he steps inside the cave, his eyes instantly finding mine. The morning light spills in behind him, casting his face in shadow, but I can still make out the hard set of his jaw. He must've heard me.

"If you thinkyou're leading this group, think again," he growls, but there's a reluctant undercurrent to his words that wasn't there before. His gaze flickers to Lazir and Calo, and something in his expression softens. "But... she's not wrong. We've lingered here long enough."

Calo glances at Garron, then at Lazir, uncertain. Lazir's face is unreadable, his eyes reflecting the flickering firelight. He givesa curt nod, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "We'll need to prepare. The journey will be long, and we can't risk another attack."

The agreement, once it comes, is grudging but definite. It's a testament to how much things have changed between us, how the bonds of necessity and shared danger have woven themselves into something that feels dangerously close to camaraderie.

As we prepare to leave, I feel a pang of something I'm not ready to acknowledge, a sensation that's both exhilarating and terrifying. The sooner this is over, the sooner I can forget about them, I tell myself. But the words are a thin shield against the growing realization that this group of minotaurs has started to mean more to me than I ever intended.

27

GARRON

The cool air of the forest hits my face as we step out of the cave, the scent of damp earth and pine needles filling my senses. I can't shake off the unease starting to gnaw at me. Mara's wound is still healing, and the journey ahead is anything but forgiving.

Calo leads the way, his steps sure and steady on the uneven terrain. He's confident about this shortcut of his to the Murdok dark elf estate, but the path looks more like a goat trail than something meant for travelers.

The forest around us is alive with the sounds of rustling leaves and distant bird calls, but my focus remains on the woman walking just a few steps ahead.

Mara's determination is clear in the set of her jaw, the way she squares her shoulders despite the pain I know she must be feeling. Her steps are careful, but even from here, I can see her wince with each uneven step. It's too soon for her to be pushing herself like this, but arguing with her will only lead to a battle of wills—one I'm not sure I want to win.

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