Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
HAVEN
I’d put a guard on the ground. Humiliated him in front of his peers and a handful of shields. Embarrassing him wouldn’t go unpunished. Perhaps my punishment was being closeted in the gray dining room with Pierce and Flynn. Somehow, I doubted it. Anxiety gnawed at my empty stomach.
“Worried?” Pierce sounded only slightly curious.
“You should be worried.” Flynn sipped his coffee, making a show of enjoying every drop.
They were such assholes. All of them. They didn’t deserve a response.
They’d watched as Drake accosted me. They’d done nothing.
Yes, I could protect myself, but what about the other girls taken from their homes?
Still children at fourteen and fifteen. Had those girls been forced to wrap their lips around Drake’s cock? I shuddered.
“No answer?”
I stared into the empty guards’ dining room, where the buffet table still held enough food to feed an army. “Does it bother you?”
“That you’ll be punished?”
“The way girls here are treated.”
“They’re shields,” said Flynn, as if being a shield made a girl worthless.
My thoughts turned to Sara and the scars on her wrists. Had she lost all hope and tried to take her own life? “They’re people.”
And the guards were monsters.
Pierce covered a yawn.
My impending doom bored him? Men who treated women the way they did weren’t worthy of my words.
I memorized the order of the buffet—proteins first, then pastries, potatoes, and finally fruits and cheeses.
There were strawberries. My mouth watered.
Strawberries were a luxury we couldn’t afford.
I hadn’t had a strawberry in years. At the end of the table sat an urn of coffee and a stack of mugs. “May I have coffee? Please?”
“No.” Pierce’s answer was immediate. Then he lifted his mug to his lips, inhaling the aroma before taking a sip.
I’d expected nothing less from him. But now that I knew where it was … “How long does the buffet stay open?”
Flynn frowned at me. “That’s an odd question. Your meals are served here.”
Meals? That was a generous description. I glanced at the oatmeal congealing in its pot and shuddered.
“The breakfast buffet remains until they put out lunch.” Pierce took out his dagger, flipped it, and caught the hilt.
“And the coffee?”
Pierce flipped his dagger again. “It’s always there. For guards.”
Two guards, each at least twice my size, appeared in the doorway.
“We’re here for the shield,” said the one with a gold bar pinned to his uniform.
Pierce continued flipping his dagger, but I noticed his knuckles had gone white around the hilt. His usual perfect posture had stiffened even further, if that was even possible.
“Where are you taking her?” Flynn sounded only mildly interested. His apathetic tone made me want to steal Pierce’s dagger and shove it up his indifferent ass.
“Why do you care, Flynn?” The man with the bar on his uniform chuckled. “Haven’t had a chance to fuck her yet?”
Flynn flushed as if the man’s arrow had hit its mark.
What. An. Asshole.
Leaving Pierce and Flynn to enjoy their coffee, the two men led me back to the gymnasium.
We crossed the threshold, and a bad, bad feeling settled in my gut. My feet slowed. “What’s happening?”
Without a word, they dragged me toward the two wooden poles.
I dug in my heels, made myself deadweight. It didn’t matter.
The one with the gold bar pressed my left arm against one pole and then tightened a shackle around my wrist. His friend repeated the process with my right arm.
I stood with my arms spread wide. Tied. At their mercy. I pulled against the cuffs, but there was no give. I reached for my magic, but it was gone. No. Not gone. Dampened. “What’s happening?” My voice was too high, almost squeaky.
“It’s the cuffs,” said Gold Bar. “They cut off access to magic. You are being punished.”
I swallowed. Hard. “For protecting myself?”
A knife whispered down my back, and the fabric of my tunic fell away, revealing my bare spine.
Panic clawed at my throat, choking me.
“Did you think you could embarrass me and get away with it?” The man I’d kicked in the groin stood behind me, close enough that his sour breath assaulted my nose.
“I protected myself.”
“You don’t get it, Shield. If a guard tells you to suck his cock, you do it. If he tells you to spread your legs, you do it.” He ran his fingers up the inside of my leg, and I shuddered.
“I’d rather die.”
He laughed as if I’d said something funny.
The sudden bite of a whip against my back brought tears to my eyes.
The second lash sliced through my flesh and scored my bones. Each lash sent vibrations through the wooden posts. Someone had built these specifically for this purpose. How many women had been chained here before me?
Drake gave me a moment to catch my breath.
“Asshole.”
“What did you call me?” Drake was behind me again. His fingers poked at my wounds and played in my blood.
“Asshole,” I said with force.
“I have the whip.” He meant it as a warning. He could rend the flesh from my bones.
It was a warning I refused to heed. “What kind of man beats a woman for protecting herself from rape?”
“Not rape. Just taking what I want.” His hand, already slick with my blood, circled my torso and grabbed my breast, twisting it painfully. “Should I fuck you now or wait until your back is destroyed?”
I jerked my head back and felt it connect with bone.
“Bitch!”
The whip bit into my back, and fresh tears welled in my eyes, spilling over my lids and soaking my cheeks.
He hit me again. And again.
Pain stole my breath. Only the lack of air kept me from screaming.
“You’re crying?” I hated the delight I heard in his voice. “You’re nothing but a weak girl. How dare you deny me?”
I gritted my teeth. Reacting to pain didn’t make me weak. It made me self-aware. And I was all too aware of the pain.
Another lash. It felt as if a thousand knives had ripped into my skin at the same time.
Agony threatened to devour me, to blot out my reason.
If that happened, I might beg him to stop.
The asshole could see my tears, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of hearing my pleas.
Not that he’d listen. He was enjoying this. He wanted to break me.
I wouldn’t give him that.
Instead, I thought of Grandmother. If our places were reversed, if someone were whipping her, she’d stand firm. Resolute. She’d always told me the mind was stronger than the body. If she were in my place, she’d use her mind to find a way to endure.
I lifted my chin, fixed my gaze on the wall of weapons, and focused all my attention on a dagger with a carved hilt. Flowers. The hilt was carved with flowers. Roses. In my mind, I slipped the dagger’s blade between Drake’s ribs and twisted the pretty hilt.
I flinched at the impact of a particularly vicious lash and sealed my lips. I would not beg. I would not scream. Drake might flay the skin from my bones, but what was inside me remained whole, untouched by his cruelty.
Fresh agony bloomed across my back, but I focused on the dagger.
How would it feel in my hand? How would it feel to gut Drake?
If I broke free, claimed the dagger, and killed the man holding the whip, what then?
I imagined myself looking down at his sightless corpse.
I even felt the urge to spit on his lifeless face.
And when he was dead? I couldn’t go home.
Not when I might bring the guards’ vengeance to Grandmother’s door.
I’d made my choice and given up the warmth and safety of home so the girls could remain protected. I’d made my choice. I just never dreamed it would lead to this.
The pain was too much to bear, so I disappeared deep inside my head.