Page 32 of Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

The light above me grows dimmer with each passing second. I kick my legs, fighting against the relentless pull of the depths. My chest aches with the need to breathe, but the surface might as well be a distant dream. "I'm not ready to die," I murmur, the words dissolving into bubbles that rise toward the elusive light.

Panic seizes me, its claws digging deep into my psyche. I've outwitted dark elves and played a dangerous game with the minotaurs, all to end here, in the cold silence of the river. It's a cruel twist of fate, and anger surges within me, momentarily overpowering the fear. The current seems to sense my defiance and tightens its grip, dragging me deeper into the abyss. My strength wanes.

A hand suddenly reaches down deep beneath the river's surface for me, pulling me upward with surprising force. Garron’s face breaks through the haze, his expression fierce and determined. Lazir is right behind him, his movements powerful as he helps pull me to the surface. My lungs burn with the need for air, and just as darkness starts to creep in at the edges of my vision, my head breaks through the water. I gasp desperately for air.

As they pull me onto the riverbank, I start coughing violently trying to expel the water from my lungs. My entire body shakes. My wet clothes cling to me like a second skin. Garron kneels beside me, his large hands gripping my shoulders with a strength that is both comforting and intimidating.

"Are you okay?" he demands, his voice rough, echoing the tumultuous chaos of the river. I nod weakly, my teeth chattering as I try to form words through the shivering.

"I'm fine," I whisper, though my body feels like it's been wrung out and left to dry. My muscles ache, and my heart thumps erratically in my chest.

Across the river, Calo swings his blade with lethal precision, severing the log laid across the river completely. The dark elves that were using it to cross fall into the water with surprised yelps, their cries quickly drowned out by the rushing current. I watch, a hollow satisfaction settling in my chest as they're swept away, their bodies thrashed against the rocks and pulled under by the unforgiving river.

"You gave us quite the scare," Lazir says, his tone carrying an undertone of relief that he doesn't bother to hide. He wraps a dry blanket around my shoulders, the rough fabric scratching against my skin but offering a small measure of warmth.

Calo soon joins us, his clothes similarly soaked, though he seems less affected by the cold. "That was too close," he mutters, running a hand through his wet hair. "I thought we'd lost you."

I offer him a small smile, the warmth in his eyes thawing the chill that has settled in my bones. "I'm tougher than I look," I assure him, though the words come out more as a croak than anything else.

Lazir suddenly picks me up, blanket and all, his arms steady and warm. "We need to move now," he says simply, his tone leaving no room for argument.

I rest my head against his shoulder as we head into the forest, the steady rhythm of his footsteps lulling me. Why does this feel so safe being in his arms? My chest soon tightens with emotions I dare not name.

We continue on for what feels like an eternity. The forest around us is alive with the sounds of nightfall, the rustling leaves, and distant hoots of nocturnal creatures. The scent of damp earth fills my senses, grounding me, even as my thoughts spiral. Why does their care towards me feel like it's breaking me, piece by piece?

We finally find an abandoned hutdeep in the forest just as the sky begins to rumble with thunder. Its wooden exterior is weathered, and vines creep up one side, but it offers shelter, a temporary haven from the impending storm.

Calo strides into the hut, his eyes scanning the interior. "We're close to the Murdok dark elf estate—two days, maybe less," he announces, his voice echoing slightly in the one-room dwelling.

I nod, my gaze distant as I clutch the blanket tighter around myself. Two days, I think, my stomach twisting with a knot of dread and a feeling I refuse to acknowledge. And then... what? For the first time, the thought of leaving them feels unbearable. The realization hits me like a physical blow, leaving me breathless.

Garron breaks the silence, his voice gruff as he builds a fire in the hearth. "We need to be extra cautious. The dark elves won't be far behind."

Lazir sets me down on a makeshift bed of straw and blankets. "Rest," he commands, though his eyes betray a hint of concern. "We'll take turns keeping watch."

I want to argue, to insist that I'm fine, but the exhaustion weighs heavily on me, seeping into my bones. "Thank you," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper.

As the night deepens, I find myself staring into the flickering flames, lost in thought. The minotaurs—Garron, Lazir, and Calo—have become more than mere pawns in my game of revenge. They've become my protectors, my companions.

Calo sits beside me, his presence comforting. "You should try to sleep," he suggests gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from my face.

I shake my head slightly. "I can't. My mind won't shut off," I whisper.

He smiles softly, his hand lingering on my cheek. "I could tell you a story. It might help take your mind off things," he suggests.

I nod,grateful for the distraction. As Calo begins to weave a tale of his homeland, of legends and heroes long past, I find myself relaxing, the tension in my body slowly ebbing away.

Lazir takes the first watch, his silhouette a dark shadow against the glow of the fire. I watch him from beneath my lashes, his gaze focused on the forest beyond the hut's threshold. There's a strength in him, a quiet resilience that I can't help but admire.

Garron, despite his gruff exterior, tends to my wound, his touch surprisingly gentle. His eyes meet mine, and for a fleeting moment, I see a glimmer of something vulnerable in his gaze.It's gone as quickly as it appears, replaced once more by his usual stoic mask.

As sleep finally claims me, I'm left with the haunting question that has been plaguing my thoughts: What happens when our paths diverge, and I no longer need their protection?

The thought of saying goodbye to them, of walking away from the strange bond that has formed between us, fills me with an aching sense of loss. But I push those feelings aside.

I can't afford to lose focus now, not when I'm so close to fulfilling my mission. The minotaurs are a means to an end, I tell myself firmly. Yet, as the sounds of the storm lull me into a fitful sleep, I can't shake the feeling that I'm lying to myself.

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