Page 5 of Betrayal (Corrupt Empire 1)

Silence.

I expected nothing less.

I crawled away from the door and huddled in the middle of the room on the floor. I stopped caring my fist was bleeding. The pain reminded me I was still alive. Still breathing. I let the waves of sorrow overcome me.

My parents.

Gone.

The two people who’d loved me, cared for me, made sure I could have anything I ever dreamed of.

Gone.

How long I lay there, sobbing until I couldn’t cry any longer, was beyond me. I heard the sound of locks turning and bolts sliding back. The door opened. The light streaming in through the doorway hurt my eyes. I didn’t look up, curling my arms tighter around my legs.

“Get up.”

The same cold voice rang in my ears. I hated him already. Hated how helpless and terrified his presence made me feel. I wasn’t going to let him get to me. I had to be strong.

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

I didn’t respond. What the hell could I even say? I didn’t know what he wanted. All I knew is he took my parents from me and chained me up like a dog. I heard his footsteps until they stopped right next to my head.

“Get up.”

Seconds ticked by. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want any of this. I knew he’d squatted down next to me because the next moment, he grabbed my injured hand and tried to tug it away from my legs. I cried out, pain radiating from my knuckles. He turned my hand over in his.

“What did you do to yourself?” he muttered.

“Don’t touch me,” I hissed, pulling my hand from his grasp.

I cradled it to my chest, still refusing to look his way. The sound of his footsteps echoed in my ears. I peeked out. He’d left but hadn’t shut the door behind him. A blank white wall lay beyond. I had no energy to pick myself up and investigate further. It wouldn’t have done me any good anyway. The chain on my leg prevented me from leaving. At some point, I’d find its limits, but I was in no mood to test it at that moment.

I turned my face back into my knees. My hand throbbed. I’d been an idiot to hit the door more times than I could count. Hurting myself wouldn’t change my situation.

Footsteps in the hallway outside alerted me to his presence again. The single lightbulb above us flicked on. The harsh light hurt my eyes further. I’d gotten used to the dark.

I looked up at him. He was carrying a small box which he placed on the floor next to me. He reached out for my hand. I reared back, pushing my feet against the floor to get away from him until I hit the wall. His expression darkened.

“Come here.”

“No. Stay away from me,” I said, sitting up and curling inwards.

I glared at him from behind my knees. He was wearing an uncollared blue shirt, buttoned up to his neck. I glimpsed the beginnings of a tattoo peeking out from the top of it.

“I’m only going to say this once. You are going to let me see to your hand without complaint. Then we are going to have a discussion about what’s expected of you. If you argue with me, Daniels, there will be consequences. Ones you won’t enjoy. Are we clear?”

His tone left no room for questions. No room for disobedience. Nothing. I was expected to obey. He’d called me Avery before. I wasn’t sure why he referred to me by my last name now.

He picked up the box. I didn’t move as he approached me. He sat next to me and took my hand. Looking over the cuts in the light, his brow furrowed.

“What did you do?”

“Hit the door. Repeatedly.”

His eyes met mine, the disapproval in them making me flinch. He rested my hand on his knee before opening the box. It was full of medical supplies. Carefully, he cleaned my split knuckles. His touch was gentle, completely at odds with his appearance. I wasn’t about to try work him out. Wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. He’d murdered my parents.

He bandaged my hand when he was done and gave it back to me. I held it to my chest, staring at him with narrowed eyes. He closed the box.

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