Chapter 1
DIRTY ALLEYS
“You enjoy making me chase you, little rabbit.”
Of all the filthy things in the alley, the man talking was by far the filthiest one.
And considering that Marigold was in a narrow London alley behind the worst tavern in the city, that said a lot.
The rain from earlier had made the cobblestones wet yet somehow not managed to wash away the horse dung and the human piss but rather amplified the rancid smells.
And yet the man before her not only smelled worse than her surroundings, but that stink went straight into his soul.
Marigold looked at both sides of the alley, but she was well aware that she was desperately alone in this.
Even if anyone other than the drunk patrons of the dubious establishments of the area passed by, not one would lift a finger against Donny and his gang.
“Are you thinking of running away from me?” Donny asked, and the gin on his breath made her dizzy.
“I am just trying to get home,” Marigold said.
“Go home without paying me what you owe me?”
Donny took one step till Marigold’s back hit against the brick wall behind her. Marigold tightened her old gloves around the little bag she was carrying. It was not to use this bag as a weapon. After all, three of Donny’s men stood around him, and she stood no chance.
“I don’t owe you anything,” Marigold said with resolve. “I owe your boss, Johnny. And we have an understanding.”
Donny’s eyes flashed with anger and anticipation. He slammed his hand beside her head on the wall, blocking even the slightest hope of escape. The three men behind him leered like hyenas.
“So, you have an understanding with Johnny?” Donny said in that taunting way of his. “Do you know what kind of understanding I have with Johnny?”
Marigold’s blood ran cold. Donny enjoyed frightening her. It would be fine if all there was to it were empty threats, but Marigold knew that she had little time to avoid a fate far worse than death.
“Do you think, little rabbit, that Johnny will be any more patient with you?” Donny inched closer, his lips almost touching her ear. “That he is satisfied with your little payments?”
“I will get the money,” Marigold said with resolve that was not actually there. “I just need to sell a few—”
“Oh, the little lady selling her valuable possessions,” Donny mocked.
He took one curl of her hair and twisted it between his fingers. Bile rose from the pit of her stomach, but she suppressed it.
“You will get your money, and you had best remember I am still a lady.” Marigold tried to sound controlled.
“And I am telling you, My Lady,” he taunted, “that you have a far more valuable possession that can make your debt disappear.”
Marigold was not a blushing girl. She was already eight and twenty years old and had been in situations that no other lady of the ton had found herself in. So, she didn’t even have to guess what Donny was hinting at.
She ground her jaw to keep from shaking, and she twisted the handle of that bag as if her life depended on it.
She couldn’t break now, not in front of any man, especially not Donny.
He got great pleasure in seeing her suffer, and if she broke, he wouldn’t stop.
He would just keep pressing to get this sick satisfaction.
Marigold mustered as much of her aristocratic upbringing as she could and looked that man straight in the eyes. She was not a brave girl, but she was not going to be bullied like this.
“Perhaps you should take any disagreement up with Johnny,” Marigold said and hoped that this would be the end of the discussion.
Unfortunately for her, Donny was reaching the limits of his patience, and he could no longer hide the twisted yearnings he had regarding her person.
There was something dangerous and dark in the way he was eyeing her.
The cold night air made her skin freeze, and her heart pounded in her ears.
All she wanted was to get back home and find a way to get out of this mess with her body and soul intact.
“Why fight the inevitable, little rabbit?” Donny grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. “You will never be able to pay off that debt unless you use what God has given you.”
His body glued her against the wall, his stinking breath fanning her face. His rough fingers dug into her skin, not bruising but right at the edge. Marigold felt primal fear come over her and was scared that either her life or her dignity would end in that alley.
“Please, Donny, let me go.” She was not beneath begging at this point.
The vile man hissed with satisfaction as he heard her plead. Marigold hoped that this temporary surrender would sate his hunger and that she would be safe, at least for tonight. It was a trick that had worked before. But it seemed that begging only whetted his appetite.
He pushed her even harder against the bricks, his body now not even inches away from hers. Marigold lamented all that had happened to her that brought this humiliation upon her.
“Do you know how much I like hearing you beg?” Donny asked. “And I will let you go since you have such a good understanding with my boss.”
Marigold sighed in relief, but it was short-lived.
Donny licked his lips, making a disgusting sound, and came closer to her ear.
Marigold expected the usual nauseating comments, the ones he reserved just to see her squirm, afraid and disgusted.
Again and again before, she had suffered, humiliated like this, disrespected, threatened.
But each time she endured. These were only the words of a coward, and as long as his boss did not approve, she was safe.
But this time, she knew instantly that it was different.
He was too close, too drunk, too frustrated.
Marigold feared that he had reached a point that separated civilized men from animals.
The man keeping her caged against the brick wall was reduced to basic instincts.
Real panic came over her. She looked at the men behind him, pleading with her eyes for help.
But this was no sophisticated company, just a pack of wolves that had found defenseless prey. She was that prey.
“Oh, little rabbit,” he growled in her ear. “It won’t be long now. One of these days, Johnny will decide that it’s high time you paid your debts in a very different way.”
Marigold inhaled in pure shock, hating herself for that little slip in her composure. But Donny saw that, and he chuckled cruelly.
“Yes,” he slurred. “And when that time comes, little rabbit, I will very much enjoy being the first one to take you.”
Every little hair on her body rose with disgust. Her instincts kicked in, and she tried to push him away, but she was no match for him. She looked away, but she could still hear the mirth in his voice as he pulled closer.
“And rest assured, My Lady,” he threatened, “I will not be gentle.”
And to prove his point, he lifted his hand and grabbed her by the waist. She tried to pull away, but he dug deeper, and his hand moved up her ribs.
Marigold fought to pry away from his touch, but he hit the brick wall by her head, an open warning.
And then his thick, fat fingers gripped her breast, squeezing so tight that she cried out in pain.
But that only seemed to spur him on. He grasped her again, but Marigold had reached a breaking point.
She put all her weight behind both arms and pushed him away.
Donny was surprised and off balance and still tipsy from that gin.
He stumbled backwards and fell on his back, right on the wet cobblestones.
The rest of the hyenas laughed wickedly, making fun of the man who was supposed to be their ringleader.
Marigold knew that she had kicked the hornets’ nest, so her instinct was to flee.
She never got the chance. Donny was on his feet in no time and grabbed her by the hair as she was running away.
The pain made her yell, her hands wrapping around his wrist to free herself.
“You are going to regret that,” he hissed.
He pulled her by the hair, closer to him, forcing her to face him. When Marigold met his eyes, she knew she was not going to leave this alley intact. And her fears were justified when she saw Donny raise his hand.
Her instinct was to close her eyes and endure the pain that was coming.
A deeply scared part of herself prayed pathetically that after Donny slapped her, he would be satisfied and let her go.
But Marigold, despite everything, was still a lady of the ton, and she would not allow herself to show fear or cower.
Shaking with fear, she still looked him in the eye as he prepared to strike her for ridiculing him in front of his peers. She saw, as if it were happening slowly, his hand drop down. She closed her eyes.
But the strike never came. Marigold opened her eyes and gasped.
The strike never landed simply because a large hand was around Donny’s wrist, holding him.
Not simply stopping him but really gripping him so tightly that her aggressor almost dangled.
For one moment, nobody moved in that alley.
She could still hear the movement of the city outside this little universe, drops of rainwater, a horse neighing in the distance, her own pulse echoing in her ears.
But none of this mattered.
Because in that alley, there was a man. Or at least Marigold registered him as a man despite evidence to the contrary.
Because the man in question was simply enormous, dwarfing the already small alley, his broad shoulders swallowing it whole.
Marigold had to arc her neck to look at the top of his head.
“Christ!” One of the gang members was the first to break the silence.
Although he was not eloquent, Marigold found that his exasperation very accurately described the spectacle before her. The stranger decided that breaking Donny’s wrist was not worth the while and dropped him.