Chapter 52 – Rowan
ROWAN
Time passes slowly when you’re locked in the dark.
What’s it been, hours? Days? Years, maybe? Years certainly feels like a possibility…
My body trembles from the cold, from the dark, or the anticipation of what’s coming… I’m not sure which.
Not being able to see has me on edge, and I jump at the slightest sound. Every little creak—a threat; every shift in the wind outside—a monster.
I sit with my back against the wall farthest from the door. My eyes stay peeled on the dark corner I know holds the cell door. I don’t dare sleep, even though I’m exhausted.
Watching.
Waiting.
I think I hear something from behind the door, and immediately, it has my full attention. It’s late—very late if we’re considering dining-hall time… The men upstairs have gone quiet—off to bed or passed out on a bench, perhaps. It’s far closer to the morning hours than the evening.
I can make out the faintest jingle of keys behind the door as the bearer searches for the right one.
My heart leaps into my throat.
This is it.
I check my thigh for what must be the five-hundredth time, checking to be sure my knife hasn’t decided to just up and walk away in the last minute or so since the last time I checked.
Nope. Still there.
Just breathe.
The sound of metal scraping against stone attacks my ears, and I rise slowly to my feet, clinging to the wall for support. I’m trying to keep my stance casual, but every muscle feels tight, like the string of a drawn bow.
The door pushes fully open, and I’m momentarily blinded by the light pouring in from the hallway torches.
I blink quickly, making out a dark figure in the doorway, but between the darkness of my cell and the blinding light at his back, I can’t tell who it is.
But I know—somehow—without a doubt in my mind, it’s not Ayer.
“Well, hello there, little fae.”
My breath catches as revulsion twists through my gut.
Riggs.
I shrink back before I can steel myself, an instantaneous reaction, for once seeking the shadows as a place of refuge, pressing into them as if they might hide me. My stomach violently twists at the sound of his smarmy voice.
The vile corporal steps into the darkened cell, peering further in. He can’t see me, unable to make out my shadowed form in the dark corner.
“Where are you, little fae?” he sings, far too cheerily. I wring my fingers. Riggs never would have risked coming down here if Ayer was anything but indisposed.
The corporal sways lightly on his feet.
He’s drunk.
Hope flickers to life inside me.
Drunk means sloppy. And sloppy equals opportunity.
I steal a glance past him, looking down the hall. It’s empty. He came alone.
His eyes still scan the dark corners of the cell.
Unsure if he’s spotted me yet, I inch closer, wondering if I might be able to dart right out past him.
“Tsk, tsk, tsk,” Riggs’ tongue clicks, and I freeze. “Trying to run away already?” He smiles. “I was hoping you’d be scared.”
I swallow my panic and force myself to go still, lowering my hands and fixing my eyes on the rough stone floor.
Submissive.
Not a threat.
Just a scared, helpless, little female.
“W-where’s Captain Rusic?” I ask, forcing the stutter into my voice, hoping mention of Ayer might deter him—considering what happened last time—or piss him off.
Riggs scoffs, and I feel the ghost of a smile grace my lips when he steps closer.
“Who do you think sent me, Princess?”
I swallow. Hard. My smile fading.
“You’re part of the deal we struck tonight, little fae,” Riggs croons, taking another step forward until he’s close enough to touch.
For a moment, I forget to breathe.
Ayer.
He gave me to Riggs?
The thought twists painfully through my chest, but I shove it away almost as quickly as it comes. No. He may want me gone, and he may despise what I am, but he wouldn’t hand me over.
Would he?
I try not to flinch at the feel of Riggs’ grubby little fingers tracing along my tapered ears. I can’t help but flinch when he brushes the sensitive tips. My mask of submission shatters, fury taking over as I shove his hand away with a glare.
“There she is,” Riggs gloats, grinning down at me, pleased with my reaction. “We’re going to have fun tonight, you and I.”
Unable to stand the feel of his hands on me anymore, I slip out from under him, racing for the cell door he left open behind him.
Riggs catches me almost immediately, his hand clamping down on my arm and twisting. I cry out at the sharp burst of pain, right before he violently wrenches me back.
My head slams into the stone wall. For a moment, my vision blurs. I let out a groan, pain exploding throughout my head.
It costs me valuable time.
By the time I’m able to see through the pain, Riggs is already on top of me.
His hands are—everywhere. His fingers hook into my side, yanking me closer with a filthy, possessive grip.
His palm skates over my breast, and nausea takes over.
He has me pinned against the wall, holding me up with his knee.
I squirm, trying my best to push him off, but he leans in heavily, pinning me down.
I’m still swimming in pain, and my limbs feel slow and heavy, resisting the effort it takes to fight him, and darkness edges my vision.
Focus, Rowan.
I bite down on my lip, hard enough to taste blood. The slicing pain sharpens my thoughts and pushes back the dark cloud threatening to envelop my mind. My head clears just in time to see Riggs pull a knife from his belt.
The cold steel of his blade ghosts the skin of my upper thigh as it slices through the fabric of my dress, exposing me.
I force myself to lie still. If I fight now, he’ll only enjoy it more.
Riggs’ rough hands trail indecently high up my leg, exploring his newfound access before raising the knife higher. He makes quick work of cutting through the bodice of my dress; leaving me in only my corset and white underskirts.
His lips twist with sick satisfaction as he looks down upon my heaving chest before he presses the sharp steel against my cheek, trapping my face between the wall and his knife.
He taps his blade against my cheek, letting it bite me.
Warm blood trickles down my cheek. “If you scream,” he leans further in so that he’s whispering into my ear, “I’ll fuck you with it.
” I don’t say anything, and he slides his knife further down my cheek until the sharp steel brushes against my lips. “Nod if you understand.”
My eyes flick to his. His smile is too wide, and I feel something hard pressing into my gut. I remain completely still. My head doesn’t move. And since the edge of his blade rests just over my mouth, I don’t dare open it.
Riggs’ dark eyes flash with anger at my continued silence, and he repeats himself, his knife pressing harder when I still refuse to nod—refuse to agree.
I let out a pathetic little whimper as his blade breaks my skin again, cutting my lip this time. My gaze darts from his face to the knife, fear shining in my eyes.
The corporal’s frown curls into a triumphant smile, and he lifts the knife from my cheek.
“Good gir—”
As soon as his blade is off my skin, I’m moving. Reaching, not for the knife, but for his wrist. My fingers curl around it, wrenching with all the strength I have left while Riggs howls in both surprise and pain, dropping the knife.
Releasing his wrist, I drop out from under him, my other hand shooting out to catch the knife midair. I spin, my foot sweeping out, connecting with the back of his knee.
He yelps in surprise, but Riggs is a big man, and though he falters, he doesn’t go down. Instead, he stumbles a few steps before recovering. His face turns a crimson shade of red as he draws himself back up.
My eyes flicker to the exit, and he tracks my gaze, sidestepping quickly so that he’s blocking my path. “You’re going to regret that, little fae.” Riggs lunges, and I slash at him with my stolen blade. He jerks back just in time—not realizing I had caught it—and I just miss his throat.
Taking advantage of his momentary confusion, I kick—hard. My foot slams into his chest, and he staggers back with a grunt, but not before retaliating with his fist. I avoid the blow to the face, but he catches the back of my hand. The knife slips from my grip, skittering across the floor.
Stars.
We both go for it.
Riggs goes for the blade, but I switch directions, going for him instead. My body slams into his, using his own momentum against him. I throw all of my weight forward, sending him crashing to the ground.
He lands hard, flat on his back. He wheezes and chokes as he works to recover his breath, losing valuable seconds.
Seconds I now have to reach the door.
I run, only glancing back once I’ve reached the threshold.
Riggs is still on the ground, coughing while struggling to get his feet back under him.
I pause long enough to meet his eye, giving him a small glimpse of my fangs before I speak. “Aww, little human,” I mock. “I hope you like your cage.”
Riggs scrambles harder, lunging for the door, but I slam it shut just before he crashes into the other side.
The lock clicks into place automatically, and the door shakes violently as he roars behind it.
Curse words spill out; threats and worse come pouring out of his mouth while I wipe the blood from my own, standing back to admire my handiwork with a grin.
My smile fades at the soft jingle of keys coming from inside the cell.
Shit.
I don’t wait around, turning and sprinting out into the main hallway.
To my surprise, the guard positions are empty. My eyes dart wildly around, body tense as I prepare to take on more soldiers. But the hallway is empty. I remember seeing them on the way down. Riggs must have dismissed them when he came slinking through.
Heart racing, I continue quickly down the long hall, forcing myself to slow as I near the corner, listening closely for any sounds before peeking out.
No one’s there.
I move. Fast. Adrenaline surges through my veins as I round another corner, looking for the armoury we’d come through—looking for the exit.
A loud crashing sound at my back has me breaking into a run.
I find the armoury and skitter to a halt, nearly passing right by it.
Another slam, and the sounds of boots chasing after me.
I sprint through the armoury without stopping, diving for the nearest twisting set of stairs, taking them two at a time.
My legs feel like jelly beneath me when I finally reach the top landing. There I pause, unsure of the best path to take. To my left—a dark hallway waits; up—more stairs. I wince just thinking about it, and down—footsteps. Coming fast.
Instinct screams left. Decision made, I bolt to the left and down the hall.
It’s dark and difficult to see, but I know the dungeon cells were definitely underground, which means this level is likely the ground floor. My best chance for escape.
If I can just find a way out…
I need an exit, a window… anything.
I try each door as I pass it.
Locked. All of them locked.
“C’mon, c’mon,” I plead with yet another locked door. The last one in this hall. When it, too, refuses to open, I slam my fist against the heavy wood with a silent scream of frustration.
“Just wait till I get my hands on you, little fae,” Riggs’ voice echoes from down the hall, and my head whips back as panic rises. Shit, he’s closer than I thought.
I spin, sprinting in the opposite direction. I throw an arm out, swinging myself around the tight corner, not noticing how the rough stone changes over to marble until it’s too late.
I slip, and my feet fly out from under me. I catch myself at the last second, barely managing to stay upright, but before I can even lift my head, I collide with something solid.
The impact sends me reeling. I brace for the hard hit of the ground as I fall backward, but it never comes. A hand catches me mid-fall.
It’s strong. Unyielding.
I stop breathing.
His grip on me tightens, and I choke down a swallow as I tilt my chin upward, up and up, until I’m staring into dark, steel-gray eyes.
Ayer.