Like me.
I’ve never been to this room before, but I can imagine it’s the setting for wicked, torturous things.
I can’t escape, but I can delay.
“Will you, then? So brave of you, half a dozen armed men against one defenseless woman. How noble.”
“Shut it,” Blaine snaps. I don’t, of course. I have no weapon, but I have my tongue.
“I bet the little sluts you fuck think you’re quite the knight in shining armor, don’t they?”
“Shut it.”
But I won’t. I don’t want him in control. I want to unnerve him, unsettle him.
“No. Fuck you. You’re a bully, that’s what you are. No more than a—”
I know I’ve struck a nerve when he flinches, he rears back, and before I can turn from him, his fist connects with my cheekbone. Pain explodes across my face, and too late I lift my hands to defend myself. He grabs my arms, knees me in the stomach, and shoves me to the ground. He leaves me wheezing, gasping for air.
“Fuck,” he growls. “He’s coming. Lift her up!”
Who’s coming? I’m in a pain-filled daze as they drag me to my feet, the sound of hefty footsteps fall just outside the door. Foreboding gathers in my belly. If it’s my father, I’m going to be sick.
The thick door swings open. I don’t want to look at him so I look to the floor. Thick heavy black boots enter the room.
This is not my father. He’s much bigger, and broader, though he’s masked and wearing all black. I try to decipher who he is, but there’s none in my father’s company so tall, with such wide shoulders.. He’s got the body of a boxer, muscled and powerful, but he doesn’t remind me of anyone I’ve met before, and I’ve met all in my father’s company. I was raised among these men. Have they brought in a stranger to punish me?
This man could lift me up with one hand. I can almost picture it, being held in the air while I dangle from his fist like a helpless kitten. I swallow hard when he stands in the doorway, his hands on his hips. I can’t see his eyes because of the mask, but I imagine he’s glaring.
“Leave us,” he thunders, in a deep, rugged voice I don’t recognize.
When no one moves at first, he grows impatient. “Now!”
As they flee like scattering ants, he points one large, masculine finger my way. “Except you. You stay right. There.”
Great. I’m to be left alone with a huge, powerful, masked stranger. I’m not sure this option is much better than being left in the hands of my father. Then I remember what my brother said.
This is the man who’s come to punish me.
My stomach drops, my heart racing. I don’t realize I’m backing away from him until my back hits the cold, hard wall behind me. I gulp in air, panic rising in my chest when he shuts and locks the heavy door. He carries a black bag in his hand I didn’t notice when I first saw him. He drops it onto the table.
Turning to face me, he crosses his arms on his chest. The overhead light casts an eerie glow on him. Though he’s masked, I get a brief glimpse of his eyes through the holes. His eyes are green. Unblinking. Flinty.
I turn my face away from him, hidden in shadow. His eyes roam over my body. I must look a sight. My clothing is torn and ragged, my hair tangled and matted. When I escaped just a few days ago, I hid like a vagabond. I couldn’t risk them finding me. But I should’ve known better. The Irish mob has eyes in every pub, every city, every hiding place in Ireland. I never even made it to the border.
He breaks the silence with his steely, hard voice. “Do you know what you’ve done?”
“Other than botch up my escape? No.”
He holds my gaze another minute. “You’ve brought the clans to the brink of war. Do you know what that means?”
“War? Yes. Sheltered though I’ve been, I’ve read a bit of history.”
The green eyes narrow. His muscles flex.
“Tell me.”
I clear my throat. “It means that… people will… fight,” I say, feeling like a child before a jury, woefully inept and silly.
He nods. “That’s right. People will fight. People will kill.” His voice lowers. “People will die.”
“Right.” I swallow hard. “If you’ve come to punish me, I would appreciate it if you could just… get it over with and spare me the lecture.”
“Get it over with?” he repeats in his husky voice. “Are you that blasé about being punished?”
I wish he wasn’t masked. I’d like to read his expression right now.
Swallowing hard, I don’t answer. I’m suddenly dizzy with nerves.
I can handle pain. I’ve withstood it many times. But I hate the anticipation of something terrible. I’d rather face it already.