Page 55 of Rebellious Reign

“Put the knife down, grandson.”

The words hit me like a bucket of cold water being thrown over my head. The smooth voice, the slight amusement that it carries. I wish I had gone for my gun instead. I know any wrong move right now will most likely end up with a bullet to my brain, so I don’t reach for it.

Did I mention I’m a fucking idiot?

Viktor steps from behind me, circling. He glances down at the man on the ground, frowning.

“Get up,” he says, and the man grimaces.

“Why are you here?” I ask him.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, merely looks around the room. The other four men should be embarrassed by the way they look like they are in the presence of a god. Viktor is no god, more like the devil.

Why aren’t they cowering in fear?

Viktor snaps his fingers, and the shuffling behind me resumes. I’m assuming he is calling his goons forward to shackle me. Then, when no one touches me, a little burst of fear shoots down my spine.

What the hell is going on?

I hear a sob as something hits the floor, and my eyes shoot to Dahlia again, but it’s not her. I furrow my brow in confusion.

Who is crying?

I turn in slow motion as I take in the scene in the doorway behind me.

Wryn is on her fucking knees, blindfolded. Her red dress from earlier is torn. The slit in the side stretches up over her hip. Her hair is mussed, and her feet are bare, the heels that adorned her feet are nowhere to be seen. I want to cut off the hands that have touched her. I want to scream a battle cry over the red marks on her chest, the deep V that’s now showcasing one perfect breast through the gaps in the tattered material.

She fought back. My Wryn tried to get away, and here she is, on her knees before these men, and I want to wage war.

“Oh, don’t look so angry,” Viktor says, pulling my attention.

I don’t want to look away, but I need to figure out a plan. I need to face the real enemy.

“Why do you have her? I’ve done nothing to you,” I say, trying to keep my voice even. It’s difficult with the amount of panic and anger warring to get out of my body. I want to go back to a few hours ago, feeling Wryn fall apart at the table under the scrutiny of Heywood’s finest. I want the freedom to decide to leave with her, take her home, and forget about this vendetta. Forget about everything as I sink between her legs.

“You’ve done plenty,” Viktor says. “Your father did everything he could to undercut me. To take from me. I took from him. He fought back. It’s been quite a battle between us, but I’m tired now. I want it to be over. I will be the victor.”

He smiles, as if he made the cleverest joke. It’s stupid. Some of the other men chuckle.

“Wryn, are you okay?” I ask.

Viktor clicks his tongue. “Don’t answer that, dear,” he says, stepping closer to her.

He places his hand on top of her head, and his fingers dig into her scalp as he rakes them through her hair. Then, he wrenches her head back. Her mouth falls open on a silent scream. I watch her throat work as she holds it in.

I’m powerless. It’s like I’m the one on my knees before Viktor. The one who needs to be begging to spare my life. But something keeps me from dropping down, from crawling on my hands and knees. Maybe it’s pride.

“Wryn is fine. She’s been fine. Especially as she combed through your office and sent me all of your records.”

I look at Wryn. Watch her mouth clamp shut.

Viktor tilts her head toward him as he stares down at her. “There’s nothing better than a loyal woman. And nothing worse than one who is disloyal. But what about a woman who thinks she’s loyal by being disloyal?”

The room is silent.

“Confusing, isn’t it?” Viktor asks, lowering himself down to Wryn’s upturned face.

He places a chaste kiss on her forehead. Her neck muscles strain as she tries to get away, but his fingers, tangled in her hair, prevent it.

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