Page 30 of Avenging Devil: Part 2

If I’m wrong, what can I do about it?

“Open up, Boy!” Impatient, Slit jerks his head pointedly at the locked door. Unable to arouse his suspicions and hoping like fuck he’s only going to have a conversation, I pull the key from my pocket, place it in the lock, turn it, push the door open for him then step back.

He slams it behind him.

How can I do this? How can I stand here and listen?I’m certain he’s going to hurt her, even if not physically, but with words. How can I say I’m a man and do nothing?

If I race in, he’s sure to be armed. One shot and I’ll be dead, and what use will I be to anyone then?But if I could take him down, I could be armed. Then what could I do? I’ve no plan, no way out. Just running blindly would be us committing suicide even if I took one or two of them with us.

Perhaps they’ll just talk.

Fuck. Mental torture? I don’t know the meaning of it, not until I start to hear raised voices, and the distinct sound of someone being slapped, and I doubt it’s him.

My hands form fists, my jaw clenches as their voices become louder.

“Get away from me, Slit!” A man’s chuckle, then, “Slit! No. Noooo!. Duke would never—”

“Who the fuck do you think sent me here, slut? Duke wants you pregnant, and he doesn’t care by whom.”

“Slit! Get off me!” There’s another round of flesh meeting flesh, and an agonised wail as something hits the ground. Feeling sick, I suspect it’s Saffie.

How can I stand here and bear it? The only way not to hear the woman I care for being raped is to cover my ears. But if I rush in, I’m dead, or any chance we had to escape is gone. I’m so fucking torn, barely holding myself back from charging at the door.

Another scream, followed by a crash and Slit’s roar and I can’t help myself. My legendary control gone completely, throwing myself at the door, I dive in.

Saffie’s crouching with her arms over her head to protect herself. Her t-shirt is torn, exposing her bra. Shards of a broken plate litter the floor, and an enraged Slit has blood over his face, and is poised to launch himself at her.

In a split second, I’ve summed up the situation, diving for a sharp fragment of porcelain and sinking it deep into his neck. Gurgling, clutching at himself, glaring lethal daggers at my face but unable to stop his lifeblood pouring out, Slit drops to the floor.

He may still be twitching, and he might not know it yet, but he’s only got seconds of his life left.

“Come.” I grab for her hand. She pulls away. “Saffie. For fuck’s sake. Here’s our chance to escape.” We might not succeed, but we have to take it.

“Get away from me.” Scrambling back, she evades my touch.

“We don’t fuckin’ have time for this,” I growl, “Just come with me.” Our likelihood of getting away is slim to none, but I’ve just killed their sergeant-at-arms, and she initiated the attack by smashing the plate over his head from what I could gather. We’re both dead unless somehow we can get clear. Especially if the cameras are being monitored right now. I can only hope Slit asked for privacy.

Saffie’s still backing away, her eyes flicking between me and the prone body. “You betrayed me, Niran. Why the fuck should I go with you?”

Speaking as fast as I can, I hiss words at her. “I had to lie to them, else they’d have killed me. Getting them to believe I was the one who led them to you meant they’d bring me too, and I’d have a stab at finding a chance for us both to escape.”

“I don’t believe you. You could have said something last night. It’s too late for your lame explanation.”

“Saffie,” I snap, pointing over my head. “There’s a fuckin’ camera up there. I couldn’t say anything. I don’t even know now if Slit had it turned off before coming in. If he hasn’t…” I don’t bother finishing that sentence. If someone has seen their sergeant-at-arms meeting his maker, they’ll already be on their way. I haven’t heard boots storming up the stairs yet, but that doesn’t mean they’re not coming.

Her eyes narrow, then they glance up above my head and widen. Then the Devil proves he’s with one of his own, as she accepts the inevitable, that for now she has to trust me. Thank fuck. She swallows fast then simply asks, “Which way?”

Taking her hand, I pull her out of the room, and now hear footsteps in the distance. Praying as I haven’t since I was a gullible child, I quickly lock the door, thrust her over to one of the rooms I explored last night, push her in and shoot the bolt.

“Under the bed,” I hiss.

Let Slit have turned off the camera wanting some private time with his VP’s woman.

Let them assume it’s me who’s on the loose and they’ll start searching.

Let them think this room has always been locked.

Let me fuckin’ think of a way to get out of this.

As it stands, we’re trapped like sitting ducks.

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