by K. A Knight
“So, I would say… Pet, do I cut your clothes off… or one of these slaves?” I watch the young girl start to sob as the new older lady cries out. I swallow hard and watch him. He shakes and slaps his head before muttering to himself. Eventually, he turns to face me again. “That was an example of course––now let’s play for real!” His voice booms around the room, only overshadowed by the young girls crying. I know it will get her hurt, so I try to catch her eye to no avail. I watch, almost in slow motion, as he turns to her with a frown.
“Yes!” I shout. He turns and blinks at me. “Let’s play,” I say, my voice shaking.
He booms out a laugh and wags his finger. “So eager, my little pet. Okay. Should I stab you through the thigh orrr…” He turns and runs his eyes over his slaves. “Or her.” He points at the little girl like I knew he would. I close my eyes in resignation.
“Me,” I say softly.
“What was that? I didn’t hear you!” he shouts making me jump.
“Me! I said me!” I scream, a tear trailing down my cheek as he laughs and turns to a table I didn’t notice.
Grabbing a knife he walks towards me, licking his lips the whole time. He stops in front of me, the sharp blade in my face.
“This is going to hurt pet,” he warns, before slamming the knife into my left thigh.
“Taz!” comes a panicked voice, I try to fight my way through the darkness latching on to it like a lifeline but it’s not enough. The darkness drags me back to its depths of horror and pain.
“Now, pet. Should I try my new toy on you or Petal?”
I can barely lift my head, focusing on the blood dripping from me to the floor. Agony is all I can feel and I wish I was numb––maybe this time he will finally go too far.
I cry out when he yanks my hair and pulls my head up, grinning at me with my blood covering his face and mouth, even his teeth are stained with it. He holds pliers in his hand and I can’t bring myself to care anymore. I would take all the pain, how could I not? I tried to tell him a couple of turns ago to use one of his toys on one of the slaves. But I couldn’t do it, the words lodged in my throat. If I cross that line, take that step, I am nothing more than the monster he wants me to become, born of blood and pain. That’s what this is, after all, another tactic to break me, to tame me, and make me his.
“Me,” I croak.
I must pass out sometime between the second and third fingernail being pulled because I wake up with a gasp as cold water is thrown over me.
“I think we will mix it up a bit. Ce. Your turn. Shall I hold your head underwater for two minutes or my little pet here?”
I look through my drenched hair and meet her eyes as she smiles at me. “Her,” she decides. I see Petal fight and spit at her as Ivar laughs.
“See, my pet. Never look out for anyone but yourself, they won’t thank you for it and they sure as shit won’t return it. I am all you have.” He undoes my chains but I am too weak to move, to fight. He drags my limp body across the stone floor, the blood and water trailing in my wake. Ivar throws me over a bucket of ice cold water, and I only just manage to catch myself with my hands on the rim. He grabs my hair again, ready to submerge me.
Hate runs through me, but so does defiance. I lift my head, purposely pulling on my hair in his hand until I meet his eyes. “You can break my body time and time again, but you will never break my spirit. My soul. You will never have me. I will never be yours.”
Anger darkens his face and I laugh, blood flying from my split lip as he pushes me face first into the awaiting water.
Pain explodes in my face making me stumble back to myself and with wide eyes to face the red-haired Berserker who just smashed the pommel of his sword into my face. I fumble and grab my sword, but I can see it is too late. I let my demons get the better of me, and now I am going to pay for it. I watch in dawning horror as the sword pommel comes at my face again, it makes contact and flings me to the ground as I try to stay conscious. The Berserker stands over me, triumph and malice on his face.
“Some champion you are,” he sneers before bringing his sword down again. I manage to block it with my own this time, but I am weak from the hits I took and my head is ringing. Gritting my teeth, I brace my back on the ground to try and stop its descent when the Berserker above me is thrown to the side and away from me. Maxen stands before me, chest heaving and eyes alight with bloodlust. Blinking, I look around to see the other two Berserkers already dead and a Seeker Assassin dressed in all black standing above one with a dagger in his hand. I don’t have time to question it as the others head my way.
Thorn growls when he sees my face and moves around me to help me into a sitting position, as Drax and Jax look at me in anger.
I prop myself up using Thorn’s chest as Jax crouches in front of me, Drax moves to his back watching everything and anything.
“It’s not always about winning Taz, it’s about getting back up. Time and time again,” Jax says, watching me as if he can see the hate I have for myself. By letting my memories overwhelm me I gave those men a chance to hurt not only me, but also my men.
“Where’s Maxen?” I ask, then realise that might hurt his feelings, but he just smiles and leans forward to kiss me.
“Protecting what is his,” he says before moving to my side, so I can see my warrior, my rock.
I watch in sick fascination as Maxen roars at the man who touched me. Fury, unlike I have ever seen from my gentle giant, is stamped on his face. The man on the floor screams as Maxen uses his short sword on him. The screaming stops abruptly and Maxen turns, blood covering his face, which to be honest turns me on a little bit, before walking up to me. His sword in one hand and the head of the man in the other. The head is covered in blood, and those eyes which not too long ago were filled with malice, are now empty and unseeing. Maxen stops before me, towering over me like an avenging angel. The head like some kind of sacrifice.
“This is yours. He hurt your head, so I took his.” I blink as he drops the head at my feet, which rolls and hits my boots. I guess I should be horrified, but I end up smiling at him. He kneels near me, his finger hovering over what I am guessing is a swelling from the sword used to hit me.
“You might be the strongest, badass bitch I know, but everyone fails sometimes. You’re not perfect Tazanna Worth, you have demons I can’t dream of. But I will always be by your side fighting them with you. Anyone hurts you, I hurt them. Like you would for us. So, get that self-pitying look out of your eyes, it’s not you and I hate it. So what you froze? So what he beat you? All that matters is, he is dead, food for the vultures while you are still alive.”
His words boost my confidence, and he is right. Self-pity isn’t my thing, it’s useless and I have no time for it out here. Looking over the men gathered around me, I know that they will always be there to protect me when I can’t protect myself.
“Let me look?” Comes Dr. Perfect Face’s voice from somewhere behind Maxen. I keep my eyes locked on his as he leans in.
“I am quick to anger, Mi Alma. Remember that, we might share you between my brothers, but that does not mean I will share you with anyone else. I see the way he looks at you, don’t make me have to kill him.” With that he stands and turns to the side, watching our backs.
Drax laughs from my other side, making me groan. “Men,” I mutter, making Thorn’s chest shake with laughter. I can’t say I have seen them jealous before, is it wrong it made me want to jump him then and there?
“Sorry to break up the party, but I need to speak to The Champion,” comes a cocky voice from behind the wall of men.
Unwilling to meet the assassin on my knees, I let Jax pull me to my feet as Dr. Perfect Face roots around in his bag near me, muttering about silly women with swords.
“Dray sent you?” I question, making sure to keep my hands near my blades. He is an assassin after all. They might work better for sneak attacks, but they do know how to fight. The scar, the exact same as Dray’s, stretches across his face as he smiles,
watching my fighting stance.
“Yes.” The clipped word has me raising my eyebrows, and I thought I wasn’t a talker. When I continue to stare at him, his lips twitch again.
“I see why our fearless leader is so taken with you. He dispatched his best men to different corners of the Wastes in search of you.”
I frown. “I am not yet late for his deadline.”
He nods. “Priest arrived at The Summit, when you did not, Dray started to send his men out.”
“The leaders are all there?” I wince as my head throbs, but try to concentrate on the conversation.
“Yes.” His voice is cold and bored. “It is time for The Summit.”
The Assassin’s Respect
“Who is there from The Rim?” I ask, as we climb into the cars once again, the assassin with us this time so I have to sit on someone's knee. I choose Thorn’s, needing to feel close to him and know that he doesn’t hate me. I breathe a sigh of relief when he wraps his arms around me.
“Some crazy old lady,” he grumbles, and I can hear the frustration in his voice. It makes me laugh; Nan definitely has that effect on people. Though I can’t say I expected her to make the journey.
“And Priest and Reeves are there?” I ask as he turns to look at me from the front seat.
“Yes, Priest refuses to do anything without and I quote ‘the destined one.’” He throws me one last look and turns around, slumping in his seat and pretending to sleep. I know he is aware of everything going on, and would kill anyone who approached him. It’s a tactic I have used a time or two before to get people to fuck off.
I snuggle back into Thorn’s body, not the least bit ashamed of using him. I turn my face into his chest as he buries his in my hair. “Sorry I’ve been distant, babygirl, I just,” he blows out a breath, “needed some time.” I nod and let him hold me, not willing to admit how scared I was that he would hate me, and I wouldn’t blame him. I didn’t save his sister, I was there for her death––I might not have done the deed myself, but her blood is on my hands.
“Do you remember your family?” Petal whispers into the dark. Footsteps sound outside the door and we both freeze, not daring to move. I know at some point Ivar will come and get me, to let his ‘pet’ sleep in her place where she belongs––on the floor in his room. Right now, we are in the slave quarters, the other two are currently entertaining the men in the hall and I can’t bring myself to care, except to be thankful it’s not me or Petal. Somehow, she is starting to get under my skin, and I give more shits than I should if she lives or dies.
I learnt my lesson early on––look out only for yourself. But I can’t seem to, my soul rebels at watching the other girls being punished, an anger I didn’t know I had clawing to the surface and begging to be set free. To burn this place to the ground and stand like a phoenix in its ashes.
When the footsteps fade away, I shift on the stone cold floor and turn to face where I think she is in the dark. The empty stone room is our prison, our room, our refuge. We were moved from the cell when he realised we could never escape.
“Do you?” she asks again quieter this time, but still loud in the room.
“Yes,” I whisper as my father’s terrified eyes flash in my mind, making me close mine in pain, I gave up thinking he will come for us, especially since Ivar told me in excruciating detail how he killed him. A hand touches me in the dark, making me jump and my eyes snap open. Petal’s hand squeezes mine before holding on tight.
“I do too. I guess we are each other’s family now,” she whispers, trying to offer me comfort, but all it does is cause my heart to drop and my head to hurt. She won’t survive; I can just tell. She’s too strong, too defiant, and yet, weak at the same time. They break her body and soon they will break her soul, even as she spits at them and rebels. She is fire, where I am ice. I wish I could be like her, I wish I could fight and rage, but I know it will not change anything. So instead, I bottle it all up, like a pit burning deep inside, and one day I will let it out, and it will cover this world like the fire that ended it.
I squeeze my eyes shut harder, trying to block out the memories. I need to be strong, I need to be fierce, I need to be the fire that burns that bastard to the ground. I wish I could blame my father for bringing up all these old memories, but facing Ivar again is going to bring them up anyway, at least I can try and get a handle on them now.
Get to The Summit, convince the clans, kill Ivar. Get to The Summit, convince the clans, kill Ivar. Get to The Summit, convince the clans, kill Ivar.
I repeat it like a mantra in my head as we travel through the Wastes, we will be at The Ring by nightfall, and I need to be the warrior they all know––I need to be The Champion, but right now in Thorn’s arms I let myself send a promise to the girl I couldn’t save, a promise to fight––a promise of vengeance.
“What was she like?” he whispers. I bite my lip and try to think of what to say.
“She was a fighter, she was so fierce. Kind of like you, she had this fire in her eyes that I never knew was possible. She rubbed off on me more than she would ever know. She… I.” Blowing out a breath I carry on, “She tried to be my friend, tried to get to me fight. When she died, it set something in me free, made me realise that not fighting wasn’t a way to live.”
He’s quiet and I worry I was too blunt. I didn’t tell him about the bad shit but I also didn’t sugarcoat it. Then eventually he breathes out on a shudder against me. “Thank you for telling me, babygirl.”
“Touching, truly is, but can you two suck each other off somewhere else?” the assassin grumbles from the front, making me smile.
“How about I cut your dick off and stuff it in your mouth, then you can suck yourself off?” I say loudly. I raise my head and watch as he chuckles in the front seat.
“Oh yeah, you are perfect for Dray.”
We stop a couple of hours later to stretch our legs, riding our bikes was never as bad as riding in a cramped car with five massive warriors. I step out of the car to the sand and quickly grab my shades from my bag. I strap on my swords as well, because have you ever tried to sit in a car with two swords, eight daggers, a whip, and a crossbow? Some are new toys from my father, and I am weirdly excited to use them.
The sun shines down making me sweat instantly. I have become pampered, the air con on the car and in Paradise making me unused to the heat again. I can feel my skin burning, making me frown. The car doors slam open as the others get out and I force myself to lean against the hot metal of the car and wait. The assassin comes to lean next to me.
“You know much about Seekers?” he asks, as he lights up a cigarette and watches the others. Maxen and Jax throw me a look asking if I am okay and I nod, they turn away and help the others.
“Some.” He tries to pass me the cigarette and I shake my head.
“Okay, so I am just going to lay it out there, if you are going to help Dray with this crazy ass plan of his, then you are going to need to know how to act with us. I know you know how to deal with the Berserkers, Reeves, and you even seem to have impressed Priest. But you will need more for us, we are secretive, strong, and downright terrifying if you mess with us. We will not respect you simply because Dray does, or because everyone else does. Your titles mean nothing to us, you have to earn them.”
“You know Dray personally?” I murmur.
“Yeah, I’m his right-hand man, they call me The Shadow. You will not get my real name unless you earn it.”
“Does Dray have another name?” I ask curiously.
“Girly, you know nothing. He’s the avenger, the protector, the fighter. I would be dead if it weren’t for him, and so would a lot of others.” He throws me a dirty look and turns away again.
“His father,” I add, I feel him look at me in shock, the first real expression to cross his face.
“Huh, he told you about him?” He stares at me like I’m interesting him for once.
I shrug, my eyes still locked on my men.
“His father wa
s a bastard, he wasn’t fit to rule. He thought just because he could, he should. He tortured our people, ravaged our lands and raised his child to be unforgiving, harsh, cruel, and cold. Dray killing him set our people free, and now they would follow him to hell and back. I know what everyone calls him, says about him. It’s all true,” the assassin replies, speaking more than he has before. I meet his eyes as he turns to me again. “He is not a soft man, he’s a bastard. A cruel motherfucker who will kill anyone who hurts what is his and he has claimed you as his own. You are never going to be free of him. My advice? Don’t try to run, he wouldn’t let you.”
“Do you see me running?” I get into his face, my eyes cold and deadly, I can’t ignore the slurs thrown my way. I don’t give a shit if he’s Dray’s right-hand man, the fucking shadow or death itself. “I am like him. Anyone hurts what’s mine and I will make them beg for death. I don’t give a shit if you don’t like me, don’t respect me, but you try to kill me or mine, and I will teach you why I earned that respect, boy.”
He grins, like I didn’t just threaten him, and I see a smidgen of respect creep into his eyes. “You are going to need that strength for what is coming.” I cock my eyebrow at him as he looks away into the Wastes. “War. I can feel it.”
With that he straightens, snuffs out his cigarette, letting it fall to the floor, and disappears. When I look around, I can’t even spot him, fucking assassin.
Jax wanders to my side, framing me with his arm on top of the car. “You okay?” he asks. I nod and sigh before leaning into him just a bit.
“I thought I got through all the pissing contests years ago, I forgot how annoying they are and it’s only going to get worse with all of the clans in one place,” I grumble.
“Want to test your strength?” he asks, and I see a flash of lust in his eyes, the demons peeking out behind it.