Page 29 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

Chapter Ten

Niran

When Duke’s finished with his entertainment for the night it all goes quiet. After a while, I again sink back to the floor and try to relax my body at least. Having seen the evidence of what Duke is capable of, my resolve only strengthens. I’ve got to get Saffie away. But I’m relying on my brothers riding to help me. I can think of no other plan. On the face of it, it would be easy to unlock Saffie’s room and lead her down to the now quiet clubroom. But that’s too obvious, and I have no doubt that someone will be waiting for me, and that’s if they haven’t got someone monitoring the camera feed in real time. For now, I’m stumped as to how to come up with a plan.

Darkness finally breaks, and daylight starts to invade from the window just before the turn of the hallway. The clubhouse begins to wake slowly like a slumberous beast—a few clatters, the thudding of boots on the stairs, a shout, a groan, a frustrated, fuck off. And then members appear from the corner and start to file past me.

The sun’s moved into view and has completed a quarter of its journey into the sky before Duke’s door opens. He passes without speaking to me, only pausing to bang loudly on Saffie’s door, shouting loudly, “Good morning, Princess.” Then he leaves.

Jesus.Behind that door, I know Saffie will be quaking, anticipating the door opening and Duke going in when he’d had no such intention. Mental torture.

Once again, the key burns in my pocket, and again I leave it untouched. Soon, surely, they’ll bring some food to her. As my stomach growls, I know I could do with some sustenance myself.

At last, Asslicker appears carrying a tray. It serves my purpose to ask him to relieve me for a few minutes while I, well, relieve myself. I’ve a strong bladder, but hey, I’ve been standing here for hours.

Showing he’s got at least some semblance of humanity, he tells me where to go. Once I’m out of sight, I start to worry he might carry in Saffie’s tray himself, and deprive me of the chance of seeing her. I empty my bladder as fast as I can, willing the stream that seems never-ending to dry up.

When I get back, feeling one hundred times better, the food and the prospect are still there. Well, of course they are, the darn key’s still in my pocket. I laugh at myself. I needn’t have worried.

He leaves, I check the tray. There are two plates—more than enough food on them to feed both her and me. At least they’re not trying to starve me.

Taking a breath, hating that I’m going to be facing her animosity, unable to do anything about it, I brace myself, open the door, and step in to perform on camera.

It goes about as well as last time, though overnight she’s chosen a few choice words, sayings that hit me right in the gut. Sentences aiming to hurt. Black bastard, other taunts about my ancestry, slurs on my career and suggestions why I’m no longer a Marine. Outright accusations I’m a coward and a liar.

At first I feel pain, anguish I’m unable to protect myself, but then I block those feelings out. At least she feels safe enough to insult me. Even in this situation, she believes I’m no threat. And probably more important, she’s holding on to her spirit. She’s not giving up.

If there’s going to be any chance of escape, those are two important factors. She’s got to trust me enough to follow my lead and be prepared for us to fight our way out.

No, a meek and mild Saffie wouldn’t be a good thing. This side she’s showing is one she hasn’t revealed before.

Of course I can give no indication of the pleasure her attitude gives me. Instead, using my hands, I stoically sweep up the food that she wasted yesterday. My nod to the plate, a silent admonishment that she needs to eat is met with disdain, though I note she doesn’t make a move to throw the fresh plate at me.

Then I leave, insults still being hurled at my back.

That’s my girl,I think, locking the door again.

I eat what was on the second plate and leave the detritus of last night’s meal and the tray by my feet. Then, once again, I take up position, hoping they send no one to relieve me.

It might be a false impression, but by being here, I feel I’m helping keep Saffie safe.

Wolves come and go, passing me without a word, but their expressions speak volumes. No one trusts me or wants me here. Sooner or later, I’m going to discover Duke’s end plan, and I very much doubt that it’s going to involve a prospect patch.

Still, I’ll pretend to be ignorant. I’ll raise my chin and stand all polite as if becoming one of their number is my highest fucking priority. And if I scowl at their backs after they pass, who’s to know?

The sun’s just past its zenith by the time the monotony is broken.

Slit appears, striding along the corridor. I stare ahead, minding my business, expecting him to past. Instead, he stops.

“Boy, open the door.”

Growing cold, I realise he’s going in to see Saffie. But what can I do? I’m hardly in a position to protest.

But I try. “She looks a bit peaky this morning.” That’s a lie. In her fighting mode, she was looking her best.

“Don’t give a fuckin’ damn,” he states, ominously. “Duke might get queasy with a bit of blood, but hey, as far as I’m concerned, it’s extra lubrication.”

I breathe in sharply. Duke’s possessive, isn’t he? He wouldn’t let his sergeant-at-arms… would he?

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