“I’ve only been watchin’ her for a couple of days, but the way I see it, you work and train her so fuckin’ hard she doesn’t have time to blink let alone conspire with spies and rebels.”
Kingsley’s brow rose. Evidently, he noted the irritation in my voice, but he also realized I was right; there was no way Nada had the time, or the means, to work against Kingsley. She sure as shit had the anger, intelligence, and audacity.
“Have her stripped and whipped, ten lashes, and make it public. Put her in the arena. I want people to know that I’m the law around here, and I decide who lives and who dies.”
“You want Moore to do it?” I forced out through gritted teeth. Nada had been whipped plenty, but it had never been a public display, in the arena.
Kingsley watched me with a thoughtful expression, before giving a small shake of his head. My stomach rolled, and I knew his next words would hit home.
“You haven’t wielded the whip in a while. Why don’t you shake out the cobwebs and deliver this punishment.”
Yep, it hit alright, and it fucking hurt. The thought of hurting Nada made me feel sick. Tightness in my gut grew until it bled into my chest and I discreetly tried to rub away the pain that took up residence there. Anger was practically bleeding from my pores when I left Kingsley’s room. I hadn’t seen Nada today, and the thought of laying my eyes on her sent a rush of unwanted need through my body, and just the thought of stripping the clothes from her flesh had me hardening. The idea of whipping her lit a fire in my gut that spread to my skin, a heated fury that made me want to vomit. I’d seen the girl whipped plenty of times, I hated it then, and I hated it even more now. These fucking feelings she had forced upon me made me hate the idea of lashing her creamy, white skin. Kingsley only punished her in an effort to make her scream; that’s all he ever wanted, her pain from her lips. She never gave it to him, though.
This time was about more than punishment, though; it was a show, a message, not only to the people of the Underworld, but to Nada. Kingsley owned her; she didn’t have to do anything other than breathe, and she could be humiliated and punished for it.
I found her the first place I looked, in the gym, working with Dejohn. She wore long, skintight leggings and a dirty grey tank top tied beneath her breasts, exposing the flat slab of her toned abdomen. The wound on her arm couldn’t have been too bad; the bandage around her bicep was barely noticeable. She was throwing punches and kicks at the sandbag which was hung from the ceiling. The old boxing bag was taped up in numerous places, and each time Nada connected with it, a little sand tumbled out, scattering to the stone floor.
“He’s a durty fighta, an’ he’s fast,” Dejohn murmured as he watched her form. “He’ll try to grab at yuh breasts. He’ll probably try an’ kick yuh in da groin. It doesn’t hurt da same as a mon being kicked in da nuts, but . . .”
“It still fucking hurts,” Nada cut him off and glanced his way. “I know; I’ve been kicked there before. Enjoying the show?”
Dejohn turned to face me, the surprise on his face obvious.
“Pretty girl showin’ plenty of skin, what’s not to enjoy?”
“Wat did him say?” Dejohn asked me, knowing I had come from Kingsley. I spotted the twitch in his eye, a habit he could not hide when he was beyond furious.
“Ten lashes.”
“Only ten?” the girl chuckled. “Fine, let’s go get it over with.” She stilled and turned to face me. “I’m assuming his royal pain in my ass wants me bent over his desk so he and his cock sucking soldiers can watch?”
An unbidden image of Nada naked and sprawled over a desk hit me like a fucking brick wall, and I paused as my eyes ate her up, from those ridiculously small bare feet to that cute little Mohawk she had lately adopted. For half a moment, she seemed nervous, scratching what was likely an invisible itch on her arm before pulling her shoulders back and glaring at me. “So, who gets the honors? Moore or Solo? I kind of hope it’s Solo. I swear that man has a limp wrist, and I actually think he wants me to enjoy myself.”
“I’ll be holdin’ the whip,” I growled. “And you’ll be in the arena.”
She paused at that, and for the first time since I had met this defiant woman, an edge of unease met her hard won composure.
“Bet the filthy old pervert wants me stripped as well,” she whispered.
My silence was like a screaming assent that had Dejohn roaring in outrage.
“Nah gonna happen. Mi talk to him. Yuh have a fight . . .”
“Dejohn, it will only delay the inevitable. I’d prefer to get it over with.”
Dejohn hesitated, his anger so thick it made the room feel smaller somehow.
“Fine,” he ground out through his stubbornly clenched jaw. “Let’s go.”
“I’d prefer you didn’t come, Dejohn.” He gifted her a shocked expression that would have been laughable under different circumstances. Nada blushed, and I tilted my head as I explored this new look on her face. It was a combination of embarrassment and vulnerability that scraped away a little more of the grime that coated my heart. Seeing a hardened warrior like Nada overwhelmed by such an exposed emotion just made me angrier. It reminded me of the look she wore when I carried her to Dejohn after she was rapped all those years ago. Only this time, I wasn’t trying to protect her; I was the one that would be hurting her.
I clenched my fists tight, until I could hear the bones crack and shift, then shook them out, trying to dig deep for the calm focus I needed to pull this off. “I’m not really into exposing myself to a man who is practically a father to me,” she confessed eventually.
Dejohn sagged against a wall and looked away, fighting for self-control. “Mi bathed yuh as a babe,” he murmured.
“Yes, well, I think it’s plain for all to see I’m no longer a babe.” I watched as she stepped towards Dejohn, her head bowed, her gaze on the floor between them. “Please, Dejohn, I don’t care about anyone else seeing me like that, only you. Give me this one thing.”
Shocking the shit out of me, Dejohn leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. His hands didn’t move from his sides, and Nada didn’t recoil or try to stab him. She just stood there and took it, her head sagging forward in defeat. It was a moment that told me more about the girl than I had learned in all the years we had lived in his godforsaken place. This woman, with fists like hammers and a heart as cold as ice, was capable of love. I knew right then she cared for Dejohn like she might a father, a real father. In a world of chaos, she had found her calm, she had found the strength she needed to survive and a reason to go on, and he was a black man who’d killed his wife. Nada was likely his last chance at redemption; she would be his salvation in a world that didn’t usually offer second chances.
There were no more words as he left the room, and I gave Nada a few quiet moments to pull herself together and build the walls back up that protected these bare emotions. As much as I preferred the raw, exposed flesh and blood I had just witnessed, she needed those fucking walls to get through this punishment. And I needed to find the cold indifference that would save both our damned hides.
“So,” she finally said once her shoes were back in place, “some women say you are some super human Dom-boy who likes the whip.” I didn’t answer her. I was no Dom, I didn’t get off on hurting women, but I did know how to deliver a little pain when I fucked. Some of the women liked the rough edge, and I always made sure they left my bed completely satisfied. “Are you going to try and get me off? Or are you going to be the one getting off?” she spat out.
When she would have stepped past me, I grabbed the back of her neck and brought her roughly into my body. My hold on her was firm, but not enough to hurt. I expected her to fight me, but she didn’t. She looked up at me, eyes once again full of hate and fury. I was beginning to loathe that hostility in her eyes.
“When I get you off, tough girl, it won’t be with a whip and it sure as hell won’t be in the arena in front of the entire fuckin’ Underworld. You’r
e not the only one battlin’ for control right now.” Her brow furrowed in confusion, and I found my hand moving of its own accord. I wiped a calloused thumb down the line of worry that had nestled between her brow, then it dipped to rub gently over the fullness of her bottom lip. “You are not all you seem, tough girl, and maybe I’m not either.”
She continued to stare at me with confusion, her brow furrowed, her gaze searching mine, and anger stirred in the pit of my stomach. I didn’t want to whip her, but if I didn’t, we’d both end up dead before the night was out. I pushed her away, and she took a step back, bracing herself for an attack that wouldn’t come. I’d hurt plenty of people in my life, but I’d never hurt her, not of my own free will, anyway.
“Don’t call me tough girl!” Her rage seemed to intensify in the dark depths of her eyes. After the arena, she’d probably look at me like that forever.
“Tough girl? You actually prefer to be called nothin’?”
“My name is Nada, and I don’t care what it means. It’s my name, and I fucking own it.”
She preceded me out of the gym, and I watched her walk towards the arena, her shoulders back and head held high.
“That you do,” I whispered as I followed her towards what would likely be our downfall.
7
NADA
As I walked towards the arena, I held my head high and kept my eyes in front of me. My insides were a swirling storm of anger, hate, and humiliation. On the outside, I was a vision of calm. Shadow walked closely behind me, his presence actually reassuring, but I couldn’t understand why. He was about to whip me, and I should have been ready to gut him. My mind was steady enough to rationalize that Shadow had been ordered to deliver my punishment by Kingsley; he had no choice, neither of us had a choice, and in that we had something in common.
Shadow said I wasn’t the only one battling for control right now, and in that moment, I had seen the truth in his dark eyes, the deep-seated fear and guilt. Since my attack, Shadow had barely given me much more than an idle glance, his interest in me almost apathetic, much like everyone else, but lately, something had changed. He now looked at me with an intensity that made my stomach flip and flutter with feelings I couldn’t remember ever having. I wanted to hate him, I wanted to remain impassive to his presence, but something bigger was demanding recognition, and I wasn’t sure what that was. Nerves shook my steely resolve whenever he was near, partly because I wasn’t sure if he wanted to hurt me, or just maybe, protect me.
“Nada!” I slowed my gait at Regan’s panicked voice, watching as she ran around the bend in the corridor, practically throwing herself into my arms. I stood stiff and awkward, my arms tight at my sides as Regan continued to hold me. I tried hard to ignore Shadow’s raised brow. “You must come with me,” she whispered in my ear.
“As you can see, I’m a little busy right now,” I murmured, trying to shuffle out of her hold.
Regan pushed away, looking nervous, her skittish gaze trying hard to level on Shadow. “I need to prepare her,” she said with a voice holding more steel than I had ever heard from her. “I’ll take her clothes and give her a robe,” she further explained.
Shadow only hesitated a moment before nodding. “I’ll be waitin’ for you in the arena.”
He knew I wouldn’t run; I’d never give Kingsley the satisfaction of dragging me kicking and screaming back into his ruthless game. Regan turned and led me to her room, careful to give me the much needed space I required right now. I wasn’t nervous about the whipping, but being paraded naked into the cage made me feel nauseated.
George had well and truly moved into Regan’s room. He’d carefully hung a large, heavy blanket between his side of the room and Regan’s. Everything was neat and tidy, even George’s side of the room, which surprised me. The only male’s room I dared to visit was Dejohn, and he was messy, his floor buried beneath clothes, boxes, and rubbish. I somehow assumed that was how all men lived, in chaotic disarray.
I was tugged unceremoniously behind the blanket, which Regan pulled tight, then watched as she began to rummage through the boxes beneath her bed.
“How are things going with George?” I murmured as I stood in her small space, observing the little things that made it Regan’s. She’d sewn together swatches of material to make a large, colorful blanket that was neatly laid across her narrow cot. Above the cot, a small framed picture of a copse of trees hung from a rusty nail on the wall, and a scented candle sat in a tiny bowl on a wooden crate beside her bed. I had no idea where Regan found all these little things that gave her comfort. She was a wonderful cook and amazing with a needle and thread; I assumed she traded her services for the quaint, little knick-knacks.
“Found it.” Standing, she juggled several jars in her hands.
“More hair gel?”
“No.” She carefully opened one of the jars, and I leaned over to get a better look. It appeared to be paint. “They want you stripped, right?” she whispered, and I nodded. “But they never said anything about being painted.” She gave me a nervous glance. “I’ll leave your back, though. I’m not sure what would happen if paint got into an open wound.”
My fingers reverently hovered above the bottles she held. “Thank you,” I whispered.
Regan swallowed hard and nodded. “You look after me. I look after you. That’s what friends do.”
“Friends . . .” The word sounded unfamiliar on my tongue. I had no idea how to be a good friend, but I had always looked after Regan as best as I could. She was five years younger than me, and when she lived with her parents in the innocent sector, I had visited her whenever possible. When her mother died of illness and her father turned to NIM to fill the gaping hole in his heart, Regan moved to the blue sector to be closer to me, and I made sure she was always protected . . . until Jake. But I’d quickly cleaned up that mess and would make sure it never happened again. She deserved so much more than this horror. Regan was pure; she was like the sunlight I often dreamt about, and her eyes were full of happiness and quiet resolve. In return for my protection, she had always been there for me, to lighten my mood when I needed it, and comfort me with stories of a world my mind couldn’t fully comprehend. Stories that had been passed down to her about a place neither of us had been lucky enough to stand in. Perhaps having a friend wasn’t as hard as I once assumed. Friends . . . I liked the sound of it.
“Take those clothes off. I’ll take care of them for you. You can borrow my robe.” She dumped the jars onto her bed and reached for her fraying, green robe. “I’m thinking unification,” she said, and I wasn’t sure if she was talking to me or herself.
“Huh?” I grunted out as I stripped down to my threadbare underwear.
“The king isn’t revered, not even slightly. He is feared. He has brought much pain to the Underworld, and there are more than a few who would like to see him taken down.” She unscrewed the lid to the first jar and held it up for me to see. “White.” Then she pointed to the other jars. “Yellow, blue . . . and red. The people need to see you represent them all.”
My startled gaze flew to hers. “You’re talking about rebellion; Kingsley will kill me in a heartbeat.”
Regan shook her head. “His power comes from fear, Nada. Get rid of the fear, and all you have left is a bully. He won’t kill you. You mean too much to his empire; the winnings from your fights make him a comfortable man in an uncomfortable world. If you show the people that you’re not afraid of him, they will follow.”
My brow creased as I absorbed her words. “I’m not afraid of him, but this kind of talk will get you killed.”
“Not if we all stand up to him. There is safety in numbers, and there are people ready to stand behind you. If you show them you stand with them, and not him, more will join our cause. They will follow you. You can lead them.”
“I don’t want to be a leader. I don’t want to be anything,” I whispered. “And you can’t talk like this, Regan. It’s dangerous.” I peered around her blanket to make sure no one
was listening. Her door was shut, but her blasphemous words would see her not only killed, but tortured. I couldn’t risk her safety like that.
“And that makes you the perfect leader.” Regan cupped my cheek gently, a faint smile lifting one corner of her mouth. “You’re strong, but more than anything, you are humble.”
“The Underworld doesn’t need humble. There are criminals down here, Regan. Men and women who have done bad things. They need a heavy hand to control them.” I didn’t agree that Kingsley was the right person to rule this world, but I was smart enough to know I definitely wasn’t the right person either.
“You cannot fight violence with violence, Nada.” She sighed when I remained silent. “Come on, we need to hurry. Let’s just give the king a show he will never forget.”
“Promise me you’ll let this drop, Regan.” She began sweeping the cold paint across my skin. “Promise me!” I demanded.
Flicking one of her long braids over her shoulder, she gave me an irritated look. “Fine,” she said through gritted teeth.
“Thank you,” I whispered. I didn’t like her being angry with me, but I’d prefer her anger over her death.
*
The arena wasn’t filled to capacity. I assumed word hadn’t traveled through the entire underworld yet. It was busy, though, and my body was jostled as I stepped through the large steel doors. As soon as the excitable crowd realized I was there, a hush fell over the room and a clear path was made. I followed it into the middle of the arena. Shadow stood in the center of the cage, a dark, stormy expression on his face, a long whip hanging from one hand. He looked like the devil himself, dressed in black, wide red leather bands around both his wrists, with eyes as deep and dark as an endless pit. With my shoulders back, I walked up the steps and into the brightly lit cage. He rolled his neck as I approached the chain wall he stood closest to. It didn’t matter which side of the cage he chose, the crowd would have an unobscured view of my body and face as the whip lashed my skin. Glancing into the rafters above, I easily found Kingsley watching with sick fascination. The soldiers that stood around him looked just as excited. I smiled, the muscles in my face twitching with the unfamiliar gesture. The soldiers animated faces turned to shock, and Kingsley frowned.
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