Millions (Dollar 5)

I didn’t care.

All I cared about was Elder and getting back to him. Of finding him hopefully alive and allowing fate to give us what it so obviously wanted.

I was done with this nonsense.

I’m done letting others dictate my life.

Gathering my skirts in clawed fists, I swooped toward her. My bare feet brushed silently, winging me quickly, transforming her smile into a shock of worry.

She back-stepped, crockery clinking on her tray.

Trapping her against the wall by the open door, I snarled, “Let me go. Right now.”

She held up the tray as a barrier, shooting a quick glance at me, the exit, then to the sideboard beside her. “Before we work on your demands, can I put this down?”

Her stubborn, unflustered response rattled me a little. Not used to being the aggressor, I struggled to stay curt and rude rather than step out of her personal space and apologise.

I trembled with right and wrong, hoping like hell I hid the battle it took to stand up to her. “I don’t care what you do. Just move away from the door and I won’t hurt you.”

Nodding as if she was used to violent outbursts from ballgowned prisoners, she carefully placed the unwanted food onto the table and held out her palms in pacification. “It’s okay. No one is going—”

“Stop it!” I snapped. Her soft, sweet voice wriggled through my anger, begging me to believe in kindness and not cruelty. She was the worst kind of prison guard as she made me feel like the bad guy for demanding my release.

She couldn’t be permitted to brainwash me or to steal my anger when I’d worked so hard to find it.

Everything I did from now on was to get back to Elder. Having someone to fight toward gave me another shot of courage and rage, and I did something I never thought I was capable of.

I grabbed her around the throat.

I snatched her like Alrik had snatched me so many times before and squeezed. My tightening fingers hurt the tendons in my wrist, screaming partly in regret for laying my hand on her and partly in annoyance that I didn’t have enough strength to kill her.

Swallowing my remorse and nausea, I hissed, “Keep your lies. Keep your food. No one is going to touch me. Not you. Not the man who stole me. No one.” Ignoring the muscle spasm in my forearm from squeezing, I forced myself to be ruthless even when I wanted to let go and sprint to the other side of the room. Prior conditioning and past slavery were so, so hard to overcome.

But I did it.

Because of Elder.

Slightly out of breath, I trembled. “I’m going to walk out of here. Do you hear me?”

Her throat worked beneath my fingers. “I hear you.”

“Good.”

I didn’t know the next stage of my plan. I hadn’t thought this through.

I really should have.

At least the door was open and the first stage of my escape was in motion.

“Come.” Jerking her away from the wall, I spun her around and grabbed the neat bun at the base of her skull.

I couldn’t continue to strangle her from this position, but I yanked hard on her hair so she knew I would find some other way to maim. “Show me the way out.”

Shame coated my insides. Loathing that I’d stepped into Alrik’s shoes almost made me let go.

Almost.

I’d redeem myself once I was free. I’d repent for hurting another. But not right now.

“You know…you don’t have to do this.” The girl stepped forward thanks to my pressure. “It’s not what you think. We’re not going to hurt—”

I jerked her again, earning a pained squeak. “I’m not listening. I’m not interested in your lies. You’re showing me the way out of here, and that’s it.” I pushed her faster.

“You’re not being held against your will, you know. You can just—”

I yanked on her hair again, shutting her up.

I had no intention of letting her finish any sentence because each time she talked, my stomach somersaulted and my fingers begged to unwind from her bun.

“Could’ve fooled me.” I shoved her into the corridor, taking swift notes of space and money and rooms branching off with equally nice boudoirs. “The door was locked. If I’m not being held against my will, why couldn’t I leave when I wanted to?”

Why are you asking her questions?

Shut up and focus.

“We do that at the beginning. We never know how mentally broken our guests will be. It’s for our safety and theirs.”

If she was so worried about her safety, why deliver food on her own? Why not have a guard to defend her and stop me from doing exactly what I was doing?

Ignoring those unhelpful questions, I marched her quicker. “Guests?” I laughed coldly, eyeing up the staircase in the distance. “Funny word for captives, don’t you think?”