Page 13 of Burned to Obey

He steps closer, overshadowing me. “You are determined to push.”

I tense at his nearness. “That’s what happens when someone tries to put me in a cage.”

A flicker of something darkens his eyes, maybe memory. “I understand more than you think.”

My throat constricts. No, I doubt he does. But part of me wonders if that line carries a personal truth—some locked memory behind his stoic shell. I huff. “Sure. Because living as a revered Warden in your fancy fortress must be exactly like rotting in chains. We’re practically the same, you and I.”

He doesn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he gestures to the last few racks of crossbows. “Finish the job.”

I bristle, turning away from him, determined not to let his measured calm unravel me further. The crossbows vary in size, from small hand-held models to large siege variants that can fire iron bolts capable of piercing thick armor. As I sort them, counting each carefully, I can’t stop my thoughts from drifting to his presence.

Something about him stirs my anger, but not in the way open cruelty does. He’s not an unhinged tyrant, sneering at my pain. He’s a looming force, a mind of iron discipline, forging decisions with a detached clarity. That might be worse, in its own way. Because I can’t find a crack in that armor to seize. No matter how I prod, he remains unreadable, except for occasional flickers of emotion he quickly smothers.

When I finally close the ledger, the lamplight has shifted, a sign that dusk draws near. My shoulders scream with tension, and I’m covered in a fine sheen of sweat from the cramped work. I stride over to Saru, dropping the ledger on the table with more force than necessary.

“It’s done,” I say. “Unless you have another pointless chore.”

He opens the ledger, flipping through pages, scanning the neat columns I’ve updated. One hand rests on the table, the other tapping a quill against a page. I watch the flex of muscle under his fur, that endless calm. He reaches the final page and nods.

“Well done,” he says, voice low.

That’s it, two words? No condemnation, no real praise, just a curt acknowledgment. My jaw tightens. “What happens now?”

He shuts the ledger and sets it aside. “You return to your cell.”

“Of course.” I cross my arms. “Wouldn’t want me wandering around, seeing the majestic Bastion that might tempt me to break free.”

A faint exhale escapes him. “You wouldn’t get far if you tried.”

I lift my chin. “Maybe not, but I’d still try.”

His stare narrows, and for a heartbeat, the tension between us spikes. My pulse drums in my ears, half expecting him to lash out or bark an order. Instead, his voice comes out steady:

“Captain,” he calls to the scarred guard, “escort her back.”

The guard steps forward, taking hold of the chain attached to my wrist manacles. As he does, I glance at Saru again. Something about his expression suggests he’s not entirely indifferent to my anger. Maybe he’s wary of it, or intrigued by it.

I can’t let him see any weakness, so I sneer. “Same time tomorrow, Warden?”

He meets my gaze. “We’ll see.” Then he picks up the ledger, turning away, already immersed in whatever organizational duty remains.

The guard tugs, forcing me to follow him out of the armory. I grit my teeth as I depart, the echoes of my footsteps following me down the corridor. My mind replays every moment of tension with Saru, the stoic set of his features, the fleeting flicker in his gaze when I confronted him. Sparks flew between us, though they ignited more frustration than anything else.

I despise that part of me notices how he moves with controlled power. I hate that he’s not the typical brute I expected. It’d be simpler to face an outright monster. But the Bastion gave me a Warden who keeps his distance, letting me see only the faintest glimpses of something beyond that wall of composure. I’m left disoriented, oddly keyed up, bracing for a threat that hasn’t come.

By the time we reach my cell, the corridor is dim with torchlight. The guard unlocks the door and shoves me inside. The heavy metal slams behind me, the bolt sliding into place. I stand in the darkness for a moment, feeling my breath catch.The day’s labor has drained me, yet adrenaline still sings in my veins.

I sink onto the straw pallet, pressing a palm to my chest. My heart thrums, a mixture of residual anger and something else—an uneasy flutter I don’t want to name. I trace a finger over the raised scar on my forearm, remembering all the times I fought to stay alive in places worse than this.

I’ve faced men who beat me for sport, overseers who barely treated me like a living being. Saru’s brand of captivity is different. He wields authority without savage displays. It’s unsettling, because I have no clear way to fight back. I can’t read him, can’t force him into a confrontation that might tip his hand.

The day’s tension pools in my muscles, too fierce for me to relax. I let out a shaky breath, forcing my shoulders to unknot. Tomorrow, I’ll do the same task—or maybe a new one. As long as I’m useful, I stay alive. That’s the arrangement. Survive by degrees. That’s all I can hope for right now.

I think of Saru’s unwavering face, that giant form wrapped in disciplined silence, and my teeth clench. He wants me to obey, to be a piece of his fortress machinery. He thinks I’ll slot into place just because it’s better than the arena.

But I won’t be tamed. No matter how many times I have to count his spears, no matter how many disapproving stares I earn, I won’t let him or any other minotaur muzzle my rage. If this fortress tries to break me, I’ll snap first and take down whatever I can.

Something in that promise anchors me. I ease myself upright on the pallet, pushing past the throb in my ribs, pushing past the tide of thoughts that echo the Warden’s voice. Maybe I’m just worn thin. Maybe the day drained more from me than I thought.

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