Page 31 of Cruel Devotion

My father, despite the monster he had become in his later years, had imparted many valuable lessons that I couldn’t shake off. He believed that rules were essential to maintain order and to ensure leaders didn’t become tyrants.

To him, a leader without boundaries was a leader capable of unimaginable cruelty.

But as I looked at the glass, a profound sense of rebellion welled up inside me. Why should I consume something so repulsive simply because tradition and rules dictated it?

The very thought of swallowing even a drop made my stomach turn.

Duck’s snickers pulled me from my contemplation. “You know he won’t let you leave until that glass is empty?”

“I’m aware of that.”

“We probably could beat him up.”

“Wu?” I shook my head. “You heard the old rumors. Many say Wu is the only man that’s ever been able to beat my father twice.”

“Yet, my dad never confirmed it.” Duck chuckled. “Honestly, I think they said the rumor so we always would be terrified and just drank whatever he gave us.”

“Knowing my father and all of his smoke and mirrors with tradition. . .that could be it.”

“Yet, knowing all of that, you will still drink it.”

Sighing, I ran my fingers through my hair. “It is my duty.”

“My father is right, Lei. You are a good Mountain Master.”

I pursed my lips together.

Duck studied the contents of my glass for a moment then flashed me a mischievous grin. “Tell you what, I’ll drink yours and mine.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Why would you do that?”

Duck leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you tell me what happened between you and Moni, I’ll empty both glasses.”

I stared at him with disbelief. “Why is it so important for you to know?”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but there was a wicked curiosity in his eyes. “I’m intrigued.”

“Or you are still being possessive of Moni?”

“I was never possessive—”

“It’s none of your business—”

“Then, drink up.” Duck snatched his glass from the table and downed its contents in one swift motion.

I watched him in horror. “Is it as bad as it smells?”

Duck scrunched his face up in disgust and placed the empty glass on the table. He raised his finger as if to shush me and then he held his stomach looking like he might vomit. A few seconds passed before he could answer. “That is. . .by far. . .the nastiest. . .most vile. . .uh. . .that was torture. . .my throat is burning. My stomach is back-flipping.”

Fuck. How am I going to drink that?

I took a deep breath and steeled myself for the task ahead.

You can do this.

I picked up the glass, staring at the thick, black liquid with trepidation.

An image flashed in my mind of Master Wu yanking his little dick out and happily pissing in my glass. I bet he whistled a cheery song the whole time.

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