Owner (Blood Brotherhood 2)

“To lose a brother once might be considered misfortune. To lose him twice seems careless.”

She stares at me for a long moment, then covers her mouth and lets out a laugh.

"We should take the car and go into Direford,” I suggest.

“Bryn wouldn't like that.”

“Well, who really gives a toss what Bryn likes. He doesn't own you. You’re his wife. About time you started acting like it. Giving him shit. Letting him know who is boss.”

“He is my boss,” she smiles, patiently. “Just like Thor is boss of you.”

“Thor's not fit to be boss of my little toe, I’ll tell you that much…” I would finish the sentence, but Thor’s big hand just descended onto my shoulder.

“You set me up!” I laugh. “Nice. I’m going to fucking ruin you, but well played.”

Nina gets up, smiling and gives me a saucy little wave.

“What was that?” Thor asks for clarification with his clipped, accented tone.

“I was telling Nina you're not my boss.”

“You’re right,” he says. “I’m your owner.”

I start to laugh, but then I realize he is really not joking.

“You’re an absolute maniac,” I say. “Truly, seriously demented.”

I am so torn. Mrs Crocombe’s food is amazing, and as long as I’m here at the abbey I seem to be able to keep the awfulness of what I did yesterday at bay. Nothing feels real here. I think that’s why I tolerated the dungeon cell. After everything I've been through, the bath with Thor, the punishments, the interrogation, the bacon, it just felt right to curl up beneath a scratchy blanket in the depths of the abbey with a butler standing vigil and fall asleep.

But, of course, I’m going to escape.

“Bryn and I need to discuss what’s to be done with you," Thor says. “There are crimes to answer for.”

“I haven’t already answered for them?”

“You think a couple of little spankings are atonement for arson, theft, and murder?”

“Well, not when you say it that way.”

“You're mine," he says, his hand clasping the back of my neck. “And I’m not going to let any real harm come to you. But, Anita, you are going to be very sore, and very sorry before we are done.”

He's threatening me. I don’t know what effect he thinks that will have. It excites me, and it makes me more determined than ever to demonstrate to him just how little control he has over me.

“You stay here,” he says. “Mrs Crocombe will keep an eye on you. Bryn and I are going to work out how to clean up the mess you’ve made. You can help by not making it any worse.”

“Bryn’s down there shirtless," I tell him, pointing to the door at the back of the kitchen that Bryn disappeared into. “If you were wondering. Maybe you should take your shirt off too. So you match.”

He cuts his eyes at me, letting out a little growl of fury. I think I am tempting him. There was real desire between us yesterday in the bathroom. He is a lustful creature, I imagine, when he is not trying to desperately control that which cannot be controlled. But instead of taking his shirt off, he walks away. What a pity.

10

Anita

Mrs Crocombe is a lovely cook, and no jailer. I thank her for breakfast and go on my way. At first, I plan simply to walk back to the village, but as I am leaving the building — without any kind of interference from anybody, may I add, these are strange priests indeed who assume I might keep myself a prisoner here — I notice that the car is parked out front.

I also happen to notice that the keys remain in the ignition. There’s only two types of people who do that: rich wankers, or people who need a quick getaway. They’re the former. I am the latter.

I consider for a second that this might be some kind of trap. Or a test. Regardless, it’s an opportunity I am not going to miss. I want to go into Direford, get my shit before Stephanie throws it all out, and see what’s happening in town. I am feeling guilty and curious in equal measure.

I slide into the driver's seat and run my hands over the steering wheel. They could come out now and stop me if they wanted. But they don’t seem to want to. I've become that strange kind of invisible again, where people aren’t paying the attention they should. It seems to be my destiny.

The car purrs to life as I turn the key. I wait for people to come out. They don’t. I suppose the cellar where Thor and Bryn are having their shirtless discussions is soundproof.

“Well. I suppose I am leaving.”

And I leave.

It’s a nice car. Fast. Manual. I don't often drive manual. It makes some very unhealthy noises on the way down the hill into the valley. And some really interesting smells. Burning rubber, mostly.