The Jackal (Black Dagger Brotherhood - Prison Camp 1) - Page 57

Warning bells rang loud and insistent in his head. “Whate’er do you speak of, female?”

Ellany finally looked unto her mahmen as the older female descended to the marble flooring and shot across over to her progeny. The mahmen, who was properly dressed, grabbed onto a thin arm and shook the poor girl.

“What did you do?” the female blurted.

Ellany’s desperate eyes returned unto Rhage.

Across the receiving foyer, in the archway of the dining room, Jabon appeared, a linen napkin in one hand, an expression of pleasant inquiry on his face.

When he saw what was transpiring in his foyer, that all changed. He put a sharp hand behind himself, as if ordering the others in the dining room to sit and stay. And then he stepped forward and pulled a set of double doors shut behind himself.

With a stern look that seemed wholly out of his character, he addressed the two females. “This is neither the time nor the place.”

Both sought him with their eyes, and there was a long moment of silent communication. But Rhage cared not for whate’er transpired betwixt the three. He spoke loud and clear to all who could hear.

“I disavow any carnal knowledge of this female under your roof,” he said. “I have had no attentions thereupon her, and the Jackal can attest as such.”

As he stepped aside and indicated the other male, Ellany recoiled as if she had been unaware there were any others with Rhage in the parlor.

Gathering her silken gown such that the stains were covered, she looked around at all of her elders, a swimmer of little skill and even less strength about to sink into a watery grave.

“He was the one who deflowered me,” she announced. “It was him.”

Rhage opened his mouth to recant the slanderous accusation . . . until he realized she did not point at him.

She was indicating the Jackal with trembling hand and red-rimmed, tragic eyes. “He deflowered me.”

The Jackal grabbed Nyx’s hand, but there was no need to pull her along into an escape. She raced right for the run he set them on, and they pounded back to the finished parts of the Command’s quarters.

Had he been wrong about the timing? Had he gotten the shifts incorrect? When that guard had come up to the Wall, he had been surprised—but so had the other male, and that moment of confusion had provided him with an opportunity he had taken immediate advantage of. Now, though, he was concerned that duties had changed. And worse, that backup had been called before he had killed the guard.

Rounding the corner, he—

The flank of four guards were in two-by-two formation, marching along in a coordination that was quickly interrupted. The first pair immediately dropped to their knees as guns were taken out of holsters, and four muzzles were pointed forward.

The Jackal jumped in front and spread his arms wide. “You know you cannot shoot me.”

“What?” Nyx hissed behind him.

“You cannot shoot me.” Lowering his voice, he said softly unto her. “Do it.”

He had no idea whether she would understand what he meant. But then he felt her hand braced on his back, between his shoulder blades, and her gun appeared under his right arm.

She pulled her trigger. Over and over again.

As the weapon went off, he wondered just how far the moratorium on physical aggression by the guards toward him went. And then he stopped thinking altogether while he ducked and protected as many internal organs as he could without sacrificing the cover he offered Nyx. Who turned out to be a very good shot.

One guard dropped to the ground. A second slumped from his kneeling position.

The third was blown back as something red exploded out of the back of his skull.

And the last of the quartet turned and ran.

The Jackal tore after the male. If a communication went out to the guard center, Nyx was as good as dead. They’d drop the incremental barriers to prevent escape, and the place would flood with guards. When they caught her—and they would—she’d end up on that dais.

And females were made an example of prior to death in the most degrading and violent fashion imaginable. He’d seen it before.

Spurred by the threat to her, he threw himself into a chase that did not last long. Leaping forth, he took the male down onto the rock floor, and as his weight landed on the guard’s back, something snapped deep within him. Baring his fangs, he palmed the skull and slammed the face forward, a sharp crack ringing out as the face was driven into the unforgiving ground.

The scent of blood bloomed.

And then everything became dim.

The Jackal had no conscious thought of rolling the guard over. Was not aware of his hand forcing the chin high. Was barely cognizant of lowering his own head down.

But he knew when the taste in his mouth changed. Everything went copper—

Tags: J.R. Ward Black Dagger Brotherhood - Prison Camp Fantasy
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