Page 11 of Wrath

“Youwalk amongst them every day,” I spit.

“I am not feral,” he says firmly. “Nor am I a monster.”

“According to you,” I mutter. “They’re only that way because that’s how you make them,” I yell. “They come here as innocent little children.”

“They are given to us by mothers who can no longer look after them. They come here for a better life. We give them power and purpose,” says Adrian.

“They come to us with no boundaries, unable to follow rules, feral and out of control,” adds Cornelius.

“They’re little boys,” I remind them. “They need their mothers’ love.”

“You don’t understand,” says Silas, shaking his head. “We help those boys.”

“Like you help the women here?” I shout. “It’s lies you tell yourself to help you sleep at night.”

“I think you’re right,” says Silas, looking past me to my father. “She can’t be managed.”

“You mean I can’t be kept quiet.”

“She will cause a rebellion,” adds Adrian, ignoring me.

“So, what do we do?” Father asks.

“I’m standing right here,” I yell. “Let me leave.” They all stare at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Let me leave the village, and I’ll never bother you again.”

“And risk you spouting more lies?” Father scoffs. “No, I know exactly where you’ll be of use.” He picks up his telephone and presses a number. “I’m ready for you now,” he says before placing it back on the receiver.

A minute later, the door opens and Martha enters. She works below ground, looking after the guards. She bows herhead slightly as a sign of respect. She’s every bit as scary as the villagers say, her build large and her grey hair scraped back tightly into a bun. “You have a new recruit,” Father tells her, and she runs her eyes up and down me. “She will do everything and anything you ask of her.”

She sighs heavily, like I’m some kind of inconvenience. “Well, come with me, I don’t have all day.” And she heads out. I glance at my father, hoping for a glimpse of emotion, but there’s nothing.

“Maybe it’s time you change the rules,” I say, “because if you’re not going to love the daughters of the warriors you hold in such high esteem, what’s the point in any of it?”

Martha is already through the circle and entering another door, and I jog to catch up. We head through tunnels, twisting and turning until we step into an opening where a couple guards are sitting on some old wooden chairs with a table between them, playing a game of cards. They spot Martha and scoop the cards from the table, standing quickly. “The princess of the Sanchez family has been sent our way,” says Martha, her tone laced with annoyance. “You’ll make sure none of the guards harm her.” They give a stiff nod. “Alex, please show her around.” She turns to me. “Name?”

“Wynter.”

She rolls her eyes before marching off and leaving me with the guards. Alex gives a small smile. “I’ll show you around.”

We walk along a passage, and he points to the various doors. “These are the guards’ sleeping quarters.” We head back out and move on to the next passage. “The women stay along this one,” he adds.

“Women?” I ask as he pushes the first door open to reveal a basic room with a single bed, a sink and toilet, and a set of drawers. I didn’t think there were any women down here other than Martha.

“It gets cold at night, so use extra blankets.” He points to the sheets folded neatly on the end of the bed. “You can get extras from the cupboard outside your room,” he adds, pointing to a door opposite.

I stare blankly, trying to take in all the extra information. “My room?”

“Yes, this will be your room.” I swallow the lump forming in my throat. We head back out, and he points to a larger door. “And down that one is the warriors’ quarters.”

I raise my brows in surprise. “They’re kept amongst you?”

He grins, grabbing a set of keys from his belt and unlocking the door. “Not exactly,” he tells me as I follow him through. He locks it behind us then unlocks a metal gate. We go through, and he locks that too. We walk along the tunnel and, again, we come to a large open space with doors leading off. In the middle is a table with chairs around it. “You’ll find on-duty guards here usually,” he says.

“And behind the doors are the warriors?” I ask.

He gives a nod. “Wanna see?”

I chew my lower lip with worry but nod anyway because I’ve always wondered where they live. He grins wider, moving to a door and unlocking it. There’s a metal gate the other side, followed by a second door. Once inside there, I gasp in surprise. The room we enter is brightly lit and modern-looking. There’s a large screen television on the wall and a bed in the centre, a couch and table to one side. “Do they get to leave this room?” I ask as we step into it.

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