CHAPTER ELEVEN
I knew that I was making a mistake.
From the moment I stepped outside at the end of my shift at the bakery, it felt as if the wind itself was trying to stop me from meeting Arche. The cold hit me hard, as if it wanted to shove me back inside, back into pretending anywhere still felt safe.
But I couldn’t. I couldn’t sit still, couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe. Arche had said he might be able to help, and that was all I had, that maybe.
The streets were silent, but not peaceful.
Never peaceful anymore. Just quiet in the way a battlefield is after the last scream.
The blood was still on the cobblestones, dried into the cracks.
Someone had tried to scrub it away, but it remained, clinging to the stone.
A broken window yawned open on my left. Glass glittered in the light, sharp and jagged.
I pulled my cloak tighter, told myself I wasn’t afraid. But I was.
Not just of the night, or what I was doing—being stupid and desperate enough to risk everything.
And then I saw him. Arche stood by the alley just outside the bakery, tall and still. A shadow against the cold light, his hands buried in his coat, and for a second, I just breathed.
He was there. He hadn’t lied. That was something.
“Good evening,” I said quietly, stepping closer.
He turned toward me. “I shouldn’t have asked you to come,” he said. “It’s not safe.”
“You said there might be somewhere safer? What did you mean by that?” I asked. “I just want to protect my family. What’s left of it. I can’t think. I can’t eat.”
He nodded slowly. “I’m glad you came. I wanted to see you.”
“Why would they do that? Why would they kill them?” I choked.
“For breaking the law,” he replied. "Under the Eye, relations between men are forbidden.”
”He didn’t do anything wro—It was never forbidden before. Not here,” I said.
“It is now, under the Law of the Eye—”
“But it wasn’t. Not before—”
“Before was disorder. Corruption,” he said. ”We’re cleansing the rot.”
“The rot?” I gasped.
He didn’t blink. ”By restoring purity we build a better world.”
I stared at him.
“It’s not right.”
“I know this is hard,” he said. Then his voice dropped. “There’s still one way I could help.”
He stepped closer.
“If you were mine,” he said. “I could protect you. And your family.”
I felt so stupid, it was never about helping me. What had I been thinking? That he cared? That he would help me because it was the right thing to do?
I felt sick.
“I noticed your hand,” he said. “No ring.”
My fingers were bare. He had noticed. Of course he had noticed.
“I’m leaving soon,” he went on. ”They’ve promoted me to Commander of the Order. I’ll have status. Wealth. Everything I’ve worked for.”
My head was spinning.
“Everything I want,” he added. "Except one thing…”
I didn’t have to ask, I already knew where he was going. Why he wanted to see me.
“A wife,” he said.
I needed time. Space. Air. If I’d had it, maybe I would’ve said yes. Not because I trusted him, or because I wanted to. But because I was scared, and I had no other way out.
But Arche didn’t give me time.
His hand lifted to my face, his fingers brushed my cheek, slow and careful.
“I come home after long days,” he murmured, “and I long for a warm meal, and a family. A beautiful woman to warm my bed.”
His hand lingered, but it wasn’t affection. I wasn’t a person to him. I was a possession. The nausea came fast, curling through me like a warning. I understood now, what he really wanted.
What saying yes would mean.
I would have to share his bed.
The bed of the enemy.
It wasn’t a grand, romantic proposal. It was a deal he thought I’d be desperate enough to accept. Panic surged through me as I tried to think of how I could decline his offer without offending him.
“I’m engaged,” I blurted. “To Eskild Hjord. We’re getting married next summer.”
I made the name up on the spot. He couldn’t know that… could he? But his expression shifted, the warmth vanished.
“Don’t lie to me,” he snapped, grabbing my arm.
“I’m not—”
“Have you let him in your bed?” His voice turned sharp. Accusing, like I’d already betrayed him.
“No. Of course not,” I bit out.
“Then you’re mine.”
My heart pounded.
“You’ll be a good wife, ” he said.
“No." My voice cracked.
But he wasn’t asking, and that’s when it struck me. I’d searched for something human in him, convinced myself that he might be different. That not all of them were monsters.
But I was wrong.
Arche was a monster. He just pretended not to be.
“No?” he echoed, staring at me.
I didn’t know how it happened so fast. One moment, he was murmuring promises of safety and protection, and the next, his hands were on me.
I was trapped. Pinned between him and the wall.
“Let me go,” I begged.
One hand slid around the back of my neck. The other tightened around my arm. His breath hit my face. Hot. Stale. Hungry.
There had never been a choice. I tried to turn my head, but he held me there.
“You’ll learn to obey,” he hissed.
“Stop,” I pleaded. “Please. Stop.”
The wall dug into my back. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
“You’ll do what you’re told,” he growled against my ear. “Be a good girl.”
Then he took my mouth with his. Rough. Uninvited.
I pulled back instinctively, but he pressed me harder into the wall. I tried to push him off, and he caught my wrists and slammed them into the stone. The shock of it stole my breath.
Then his tongue forced its way in. I gagged. It was wet. Suffocating. Tasted like sweat and sour wine.
My stomach lurched, and I think it offended him.
He slapped me.
Hard.
The world spun, stars burst behind my eyes.
“Think you’re too good for me?” he spat.
And before I could scream, I was on the ground.
I hit hard. My hands scraped against gravel as my knees slammed into stone. Pain exploded. Crashed. Lit up every nerve inside me.
Then he was on top of me.
His full weight crushed me, pressing me flat into the cobblestones.
I thrashed. Kicked. Screamed.
It didn’t matter.
He caught my wrists again, pinned them above my head with one hand.
The other tore at my dress.
“I gave you a chance,” he snarled. “You could have made it easy.”
“No,” I sobbed. “No, please.”
His hand slid under my skirt. Rough. Greedy. He shoved his thigh between mine, forcing them apart, and pressed me down so hard I thought my ribs would snap.
“I’ll be a gentleman,” he breathed, grabbing a fistful of my hair and yanking my head back. “Split you open nice and slow,” he hissed. “And you’ll fucking thank me for it.”
Everything blurred. My vision. My thoughts. All of it drowned in tears. Then his grip loosened, one hand let go, then the other. Not because he was finished—because he needed both hands to undo his belt.
I heard it. The scrape of leather. The buckle catching, then sliding loose. I will never forget that sound. And he wasn’t rushing, he didn’t think he needed to.
No. In his mind, he’d already won. Vultures always did, remember? He didn’t even look at me. Probably didn’t think I’d dare to move again.
That all the fight had run out of me.
He was wrong.
The belt slithered open.
My hand hit something. Cold. Jagged.
A rock.
I didn’t think. I grabbed it and struck.
Once.
Twice.
Again.
His scream tore through the alley as he rolled off me, clutching his head. Blood spilled between his fingers.
“You little bitch,” he snarled, staggering upright.
But I was already moving. My legs barely worked, the world spinning beneath me. But I ran. I ran like the fire was at my back, like death had a name and breath and boots.
“I know where you live!” he roared after me. “I know where you fucking live!”
I didn’t look back.
I just wanted to get home. To my safe house. My safe bed. At least there, I could pretend. Pretend he wouldn’t tear the walls down just to get to me. He wouldn’t forget what I did. A man like that never forgets when you hurt his pride. His honor.
Arche’s voice followed me, wrapped itself around my lungs like wire, and sank beneath my skin. But I didn’t look back. And maybe it was pointless. Maybe running didn’t matter. I don’t even know why I bothered.
There was nowhere he wouldn’t find me.