23. Riley
RILEY
I’m still in shock when I find myself marching around the faded limestone-facade building in Revnik a few hours later, greeted by the foreboding glare of its barred windows.
I’m doing my best to act like I have a very good, legitimate reason to be there.
In my mustard yellow jacket, no one notices me in the crowd of busy servicemen.
Over the years, I’ve mastered a way to walk among them without emphasising my curves, averting their gaze, keeping my head down but my eyes peeled.
Soldiers don’t see me unless they want to hurt me.
I’ve become so good at being invisible that I sometimes doubt I really exist.
The only person who pays me any attention is the pot-bellied colonel whose cunning rat-like eyes have always made me uneasy. He nods in my direction as I walk past him, pausing mid-conversation to ask me, “Miss Riley, are you staying for a while?”
“Yes,” I lie, caught off guard; he’s never said as much as “hello” to me.
“There may be a shoot I’d like to discuss with you. Let’s catch up in the mess hall at dinnertime, please?”
“Sure.”
He smiles a standard-issue smile: polite, blank, emotionless.
Still baffled by the interaction, I round the corner, and the prior stable comes into view. The yard is relatively empty, but there is a guard sitting on a stool in front of the large wooden door.
Shit.
Contrary to popular belief, rescue attempts are so rare that often they don’t bother guarding prisoners. But Aron is the Necromancer, the best possible candidate for a nice, see-how-we-reform-rebels public retribution in one of the capitals. I was right to worry they’d be more cautious with him.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I’m going to have to be more ruthless than I’ve ever been in my life.
I’ve seen the guard before. A large, hulking, stupid type. Breathes with his mouth open. Communicates mostly with grunts. Usually harmless. He’s young and could be seen as attractive if you’re not bothered by the lack of brain cells.
But most importantly, he seems bored out of his mind, yawning constantly and fidgeting in his seat. That works in my favour.
I can do this. I have to try. I have no choice.
I have to go back because of Corrado, but I cannot go back empty-handed. I shudder just thinking about Attila’s fingers between my legs, his threats playing in my mind on repeat.
I adjust the long sleeves of my jacket, my hands sweaty, my heart leaping out of my chest. I take a deep, steadying breath.
Play it cool. Forget you’re playing it at all, that’s the key. Remember only when it’s time.
“Hey,” I address the guard cheerily as I approach him.
He just stares at me, raising his eyebrows in surprise, his mouth—what a shock—wide open. At least his teeth are nice.
“What’s your name?” I plaster on my friendliest smile.
“Rob.”
“You look bored, Rob, and I’ve got some time to kill too,” I tell him with the dumbest smile I can muster.
“So?”
“I could go for a quick fuck.”
His brow creases with disbelief. It takes him a good half a minute to process what I just said before he blushes violently.
“What?”
“You’re hot,” I say, trying to sound convincing. “I haven’t been with anyone in forever. Do you want to fuck me?” I pout at him, feeling sick. “Yes or no?” I nudge him when he continues staring without saying anything.
“Yeah,” he finally grunts with something close to an astonished smile.
No alarm bells going off in his head. He finds what is happening improbable, but not suspicious. It’s almost too easy. How the hell do some people survive to adulthood?
“Where do we go?” I ask when it becomes clear he won’t make a move unless prompted.
A true soldier at heart. Forever waiting for a command.
“Ugh.” He scratches the back of his head, his smile growing wider but also more uncertain.
My pulse rushes through my ears when I ask, “Are there any other prisoners in there? Or just the Necromancer?”
“Just him.” He frowns. “Why?”
It takes every ounce of my will to stop my voice from shaking when I suggest, “Let’s do it in there. He’ll hate it. It’ll be fun.” Rob’s eyes nearly pop out of their sockets. “Besides, that way no one can accuse you of abandoning your post,” I add practically.
“I don’t know.” He blushes deeper, rubbing the top of his head. “I don’t know if I like having an audience.”
Oh, look, a fully formed sentence!
“Only one way to find out.” I give him a fake but radiant smile. “I know I like it a lot,” I lie. “Besides, he doesn’t matter, does he? It’s not like he can tell anyone.”
He grunts in lieu of a verbal approval and gets up. The wooden door creaks as he holds it open for me, and that simple, gentlemanly gesture twists my heart with guilt.
It has to be done. There’s no other way.
You’re doing it for Corrado. You’d do anything for Corrado. Even this.
Panic constricts my chest as I step inside. The light comes on with the click of a switch, and Rob shuts the door behind us.
And there he is. My soul nearly leaves my body when I see him. There are three empty stalls on each side of the narrow, unevenly paved corridor. I can see him through the metal bars, chained to the rough brick wall.
The sight of him is devastating. He is shirtless, and his smooth, inked skin stretches tautly over the tight ropes and bulging mounds of his muscles.
He’s lean, the bulk of him wide and imposing, but not heavy.
He looks fast, ferocious, and completely lethal, like a weapon in human form, like someone born to pounce and kill.
I swallow heavily when his eyes lock with mine.
“Well, well, well ...” Aron croons. “How the tables have—”
I shake my head imperceptibly, mouthing a simple “don’t”.
He blinks hard but shows no surprise otherwise.
“What the fuck is this then?” he demands and then sneers when neither Rob nor I answer him.
I walk into a stall adjacent to his, standing so close to him that he could grab me through the bars if the chain wasn’t keeping him at a safe distance.
He balls his fists, biting his lower lip.
This close to him, I notice fresh cuts and bruises all over his bare torso.
I can also see that he’s pale and covered with a sheen of sweat.
“Not nice being in a cage, is it?” I whisper quietly so Rob won’t hear me. “Now you know what it’s like.”
His lips ripple with a smile, amused lines appearing around his eyes.
He holds my gaze, and the effect on me is as powerful as it is shocking.
My knees turn to jelly, and there are flutters low in my stomach.
I hold on to the bars for support with my left hand, keeping the right wrapped around my abdomen, holding the sleeve’s edge with my fingers.
“Hey, I’m not sure about this ...” Rob’s footsteps thud behind me, his tone flustered. “Can’t we at least go ... further away from him?”
“What?” Aron’s face falls.
“No, I like it here. Come on.” And then, with a venomous smile intended for Aron, I add, “I’m so fucking hot for it.”
Everything I said before sounded like a lie, so awkward I was shocked Rob didn’t detect my deceit—and that says a lot. But when I taunt Aron, it sounds completely real.
“No,” Aron grits through his clenched teeth. “Fuck no.”
“Errr ... how do you want to do it?” Rob asks uncertainly, loitering behind me and breathing loudly.
He’s clearly oblivious to the murder in Aron’s glare, because otherwise he wouldn’t do anything but run. On an instinctive level, I want to run too. The only difference is ... there’s a part of me that wants to be caught.
“Stand behind me,” I instruct Rob in a breathless voice. “Choke me with one hand. Play with my clit with the other. That’ll get me nice and wet and ready for you.”
Rob chuckles nervously like he still can’t believe his good luck. Aron’s face turns bone-white, and his eyes darken with rage until they’re like bottomless pits.
Rob steps close enough for his body’s heat to envelop me, his breathing quick and excited. Aron lunges forward in a feral, demented motion, straining against the chains until they creak.
“NO! DON’T YOU DARE—”
“Not too tight, baby?” Rob asks, wrapping his fingers around my throat so gently that I can barely feel them.
“Not at all.”
“DON’T TOUCH HER! I WILL KILL YOU! YOU’RE A FUCKING TABLEAU—”
Rob’s other hand starts sliding down my stomach, inching closer to the band of my trousers.
Here it is, no turning back now.
Adrenaline rushes through my veins like danger, all my thoughts focused, all the muscles in my body tensing.
Aron is still yelling, but I block out the sound. I wink at him and watch his eyes widen before I whip around in Rob’s feeble hold. Letting the knife concealed in my right sleeve slip out, I snatch it firmly by the handle. With all the strength I can gather, I swipe it across Rob’s throat.
It’s like seeing it all happen in slow motion from outside my body. Like I’m someone standing behind me. It takes forever for the shock and betrayal to register on Rob’s face.
Scared I wouldn’t be forceful enough, I overdid it.
The gash is long and deep, blood spurting and flowing down Rob’s front.
Some of it splatters on the front of my uniform jacket, and I rip it off like it’s on fire.
Rob stumbles, knees buckling, and his head shifts into an odd angle.
His eyes finally flutter shut, and down he goes, crumpling at my feet.
Blood so dark it’s almost black spreads around so fast I barely manage to get out of the way.
“Fuck!” I drop the knife, rushing out of the stall. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I collapse to the ground on the outside, pull my knees up to rest my head on them, rocking back and forth. “Fuck, fuck, fuck ...”
My stomach is churning. I’m dizzy. I’m going to throw up. I’m going to faint. I’m going to die.
“Hey, Hotshot.” Aron’s voice pulls me out of my haze—firm and steadying. “Hotshot. Look at me.” I stay still and only groan in response, tears flowing down my cheeks. “Riley.”
Like drawn to a magnet, I raise my eyes. And then, because I can’t really see him from the ground, I get up to my feet and walk closer to his stall on shaky legs.