Page 121 of Deadwood
“How long until the bridge is repaired?” I asked, forcing myself to accept the inevitable, all while trying to come up with a way out of it.
“A week, maybe,” Flynt answered.
I pressed my lips together in a firm line. “Then they’ll be gone in a week.”
“Bowen…” Siara started, presumably seeing the hurt in my gaze. It wasn’t over me wanting to keep Auria here. It was what I knew she’d go back to.
“Drop it, Siara,” I muttered.
Raiden shoved off the wall, taking a few slow steps into the living room as he finally spoke up. “Maybe there’s a way?—”
But he was cut off as the front door opened, and a small form stumbled in, falling to the ground.
CHAPTER 37
AURIA
Ihad to force myself not to look back at Bowen as I walked away. Even among the pounding rain, I would’ve known if he had left before I disappeared, but instead, he watched me go, and the thought was somewhat comforting. I nearly wanted to reach up and touch my lips, the memory of how close we were in that field making them tingle. We’d almost kissed, and yet, he’d pulled away, asking about Lander. I guessed I should’ve been thankful for that, though. Kissing him would’ve only made things complicated.
As my boots trudged through the muddy street, his words replayed in my mind.That man and those walls are not your end.But did he know I had nowhere else to go? Anyone else to be? I was Auria Tenere, a prisoner in my own home for the benefit of others, but never for myself. I didn’t get choices or freedom or a chance at another life. I lived the one I got, and I learned to be content with it. Better an occasional burn from my step mother than to die at the hands of an enemy. At least, that’s what I used to think. I wasn’t so sure anymore.
But if Bowen thought hope was a trait I held proudly, he was wrong. Hope was what tore me down to depths I could hardly fathom when disappointment presented itself. Better to not set your sights high at all in order to save yourself from the landslide of dejection.
The dark, cloudy sky and onslaught of rain made it difficult to see as I attempted to shield my eyes from the massive drops. The downpour pounded into my shoulders, the storm refusing to let up. What I thought was the sound of rain coming down harder, quicker, turned out to be footsteps, but before I could turn to see who was approaching, something hard hit me in the side of my head, sending me straight to the ground. Mud splashed up around me, coating my clothes as my hands dug into the slimy sludge.
I tried to blink away the rain as I slipped in the mud, attempting to push myself up. The effort was useless as the toe of a boot landed in my ribs, stealing the oxygen from my lungs. I collapsed on my stomach, my body flat in the squelching mud as I tried to suck in air. The pain was excruciating with each breath, and I feared a rib had cracked. Before I could satisfy the emptiness of my lungs, a hand gripped my shoulder and flipped me onto my back. Another rough hand wrapped around my neck, cutting off my ability to breathe entirely. It squeezed, and through the storm, I saw two men standing above me.
My slippery hand wrapped around his wrist, trying to pry it off, but he only held tighter. I blinked through the downpour, and the moment they came into focus, the blood in my veins froze. The men from the gambling den.
Nemin and Crass.
“How does it feel to suffocate, bitch? Doesn’t feel so good when it’s you, does it?” Crass seethed, looming over me like death itself. Vengeance shone so bright in his eyes, the look alone felt like blades in my chest. Or maybe it was the loss of oxygen sending my body into shock.
With the thought, I snapped back into motion, digging my nails into his wrist in a poor attempt to make him let go. As if a few scratches would stave off this amount of hatred.
“Grab her hands,” Crass called over his shoulder as my lungs burned.
Nemin took my hands in a punishing grip, slamming them into the mud to hold them beside my head. With my fight restrained, Crass added a second hand to my neck, squeezing tighter.
But it couldn’t be this easy for them. I wouldn’t allow such a fate. I refused to die in some muddy puddle, lying in the middle of a street. If they wanted to kill me, I’d make sure they had to fight for it.
I kicked out, my foot finding purchase between Crass’s legs. It wasn’t as hard as I would’ve liked it to be, but it was enough to make him let go. I sucked in air like a starved animal, my lungs on fire with their hunger.
Nemin immediately moved to pin my thigh with his knee, digging my hands deeper into the mud. Every point of contact pulsed with pain, the man nowhere near gentle. I was covered head to toe, and my head was spinning from the loss of oxygen and initial hit. But that wouldn’t stop me. It couldn’t.
Crass grunted, likely getting his bearings, and I wasted no time as I turned my head to the side, biting down on Nemin’s wrist. He yelled out, releasing me, only to use his good hand to slap me. My head whipped to the side, mud coating my hair and cheek as a metallic flavor filled my mouth. I realized it was blood. From me or Nemin, I wasn’t sure.
While Nemin was distracted, rubbing at his bite wound like a hurt dog, I folded at the waist, enough to bring my foot up and kick him in the face. Nemin fell back with a gruesome groan as Crass pounced at me again. Before he could land, I spun away, rolling a few times before glancing over my shoulder. Crass landed on his hands and knees, a snarl aimed my way as he scrambled after me. I twisted away once again as he reached for my ankle, and he let out a frustrated grunt, slinging foul names my way over the thunder cracking in the distance.
On my back now, I leaned on my elbows and waited until he was close enough to lift my leg and put all my force into kicking him square in the nose. A sickening crunch filled the air, somehow louder than the rain, and blood instantly poured from his nostrils. His hands came up to cup his nose, but I didn’t wait to see if he’d strike again. I hurried to my feet, taking off in the direction of town and ignoring the pain in my ribs with each heaved breath. If Bowen was still in the street, he’d help me.
My boots slipped through the mud, each flail putting more pressure on my torso as I fought to keep traction on the slick ground. Nearly every inch of me was coated, my hair knotted and heavy, but none of the mess mattered. Not when Crass and Nemin were possibly on my heels. I couldn’t waste time looking back as my body sang with adrenaline. If they got to me a second time, they wouldn’t let me get away alive.
I rounded the corner back into the main part of town, but the street was empty. Not a single guard stood out in the storm. A part of me was thankful there wasn’t a soul milling about. They could see my state of weakness and strike as well. I couldn’t trust anyone here, so what made me think Bowen would help me? He’d stood up for me in the past, but now? He could just as easily leave me for dead.
I had no idea where he lived, and even if I found houses in the direction they might have gone, would he even be there?
At the spot I’d left Bowen and Raiden, fresh boot prints led off toward the edge of town. They had to be theirs. With the rain, any older tracks would’ve been washed away by now. It was my only lead, and without any other options, I followed them. Each second that passed, the prints became harder to make out, but I trudged on, my boots sticking in the mud with each step. I had to blink profusely to keep my vision focused through the drops of rain glueing themselves to my lashes. That, and the exhaustion creeping into me with every step from the fight and loss of oxygen.
