Page 1 of Saviour

It’s been days—three to be exact—since I’ve heard from or seen King. Three fucking days.

Puck’s also MIA. Bonnie’s disappeared. The only fuckers I’ve seen around this massive fucking mansion are some of the staff and occasionally Carlo’s smug fucking face.

I don’t swear this much. I’m normally much more composed and have a cool head, but something’s wrong.

The fact I haven’t seen or heard from King in three days is proof enough.

I know he’s snuck out to see Mr Harlow’s daughter in the past couple of months, but he wouldn’t disappear for three days with her. There’s no way. So where the fuck is he?

I’m losing my shit, but there’s nothing I can do. Without Puck to ask, I don’t trust anyone else. And there is no way I’m going to Carlo about this. If King has planned something, I won’t blow his cover, not to Carlo, even if I have been kept out of the loop.

Walking around the halls aimlessly, trying to catch sight of anyone who could help me, I spot Maria, Puck’s mother, one of Carlo’s many maids, and decide to chance it. Maybe she could tell me where Puck is and then I’ll find King.

I approach her slowly and when she sees me, she shakes her head, a quick tear falling from her eyelids. She puts her finger in front of her lips in a shushing motion and nudges her head to the left, indicating Carlo’s study.

But I don’t need to ask her. She knows what I want to know but doesn’t have the answers for me.

“I don’t know,” she mouths before wiping away another tear and scurrying off.

I furrow my brows, wondering what the hell is going on around here, when I hear Carlo’s voice travel through the doorway of his study.

“I seem to have run into a few complications here, Kennedy. Let’s just say I’m a few men down.” He lets out a throaty laugh then quietens whilst he listens to Kennedy Harlow, leader of the Second District, on the other end of the phone.

Kennedy Harlow is also the father of Theodora, the girl I know King has been sneaking out to see. They must know something.

“Business is good, though,” Carlo continues. “We gained two new prisoners a few days ago. You’ll never guess who.”

A short, pregnant pause permeates the air until Carlo’s next words echo in my brain.

“The help’s son, Puck is his name?” he says as a question, even though he knows the answer.

“Oh,” he says smugly, “and King.”

“Piss off outta here, girl.”

The door slams in my face for what feels like the hundredth time tonight. Some nights are worse than others. If I’ve had a decent meal the night before or I’m cleaner, I can get in. I can bask in the warmth and have access to water and a bathroom for a whole evening until the lights come on and everyone’s kicked out at closing time.

But nights like this are the worst.

I haven’t eaten in two days now and as I’m always moving, it’s pot luck if I come across somewhere to wash. I need to find somewhere to sleep so I can move on tomorrow and get one of those good days in.

Stumbling across the darkened street, I trip on a wobbly slab of pavement and grip the wall quickly to keep myself upright. I curse and stomp over the slab like a child having a tantrum and make sure I’m careful with my footing as I keep going. Twenty minutes later, I come to a small grassy area and squat down in between two trees.

I wrap my long, silvery plait round on top of my head, tucking it into a bun, and sigh as I look up at the moon and stars.

The only thing constant in my life.

I pull my legs up to my chest and cradle myself close. I’m so skinny now that I can wrap myself up into the smallest ball and disappear in the shadows at night.

It wasn’t always like this.

I used to have a roof over my head, access to water, a bathroom, a bed, and semi-cooked meals. But I don’t know if it was worse there than where I am now.

A shudder runs through me when I think about my life two years ago and how I ended up here.

Blinking up at the moon, a half crescent tonight surrounded by the stars, I fall asleep the way I do every night, trying to count them.

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