Page 142 of Degradation

She grabs my arm, pulling me back and the movement makes my head spin. “Wait, don’t you see, don’t you get it? You can be free now, you can be whoever you want to be. Come with me, I can look after you, I can keep you safe.”

“Safe from who?” I reply. As far as I can tell she’s put me in more danger than anyone else has.

“Safe from them, from him, from the Blakes.”

I pull myself free, only, she grabs at me again, this time more forcibly and I realise then what I’d not paid attention to. What I’d ignored the whole time we were talking.

Footsteps.

Too many footsteps.

Someone is approaching us; someone is so close to being beside us.

Instinct takes over, some reflex tells me that I can’t go with her, with them. Whoever the fuck they are. My mother is not safe, my mother is not going to protect me. She never has.

I scream, I lash out, I pull myself free as best I can, but I lose my footing almost immediately and end up slamming into a rock.

Gunshots ring out almost immediately. They’re far off and yet I hear the whistle of them as the bullets race past me. I don’t know where to hide, I don’t know where is safe or how exposed I am. In truth, I don’t think I’ve felt more vulnerable, more in danger because of my blindness, than this moment here.

I can’t crawl away when I could very well end up crawling right into the hands of the enemy.

So I curl up, I make myself so small against the boulder, and I try not to make a sound as it feels like an entire battle explodes above my head.

I can hear my mother yelling, I can hear her calling for me, begging for me to go with her. But I can hear other voices; strangers, and also the guards. They’re getting closer, they must be barely a few feet away from me. I don’t know if it’s relief or disappointment to know that fact. To know that none of my options right now are good ones.

“She’s here.” Someone says. A voice I don’t know.

A hand wraps around my arm, and I’m yanked forcibly away from the rock. I scream out, unsure who the fuck it is. Within seconds a shot goes off that sounds far deeper, far bigger thanall the ones before. The hand holding me lets go, a strange man’s cry rings out before I hear the loud thud of something heavy hitting the ground.

More footsteps approach but they’re followed by more of that same awful gunshot, and I realise I’m slowly being surrounded by a pile of the dead and the dying.

It’s only when the chaos turns to silence, it’s only when that distinctive smell of gunpowder eases, that I realise it’s over.

I don’t dare to move. I don’t dare to breathe.

Footsteps approach, too many to count but I recognise the voice barking orders, I’d recognise his voice anywhere.

When the steps get closer, I know it’s him, I recognise the way he walks, the pressure of his soles, that familiar stride too. He scoops me up, picks me up like I’m a damsel in distress and he pauses, checking me over, checking for any wounds, any damage.

I don’t know if it’s relief I feel to know he has me. No, it can’t be, but it’s not abject fear either. My adrenaline is pumping so fast though my veins, and some part of me feels almost turned on by it.

I gulp as I realise my pussy throbs, My breathing feels so intense. I swear if Devin checked my panties right now, they’d be dripping.

“I’m unhurt.” I murmur, trying to keep my voice as calm as I can. I don’t want him to know, I don’t want him to realise. What if he decides to fuck me here, what if he decides to rip off my clothes and pin me down amongst the dead and fuck me until I’m a weeping, horrible, dirty fucking mess for him?

He lets out a low huff before his fingers find a graze along my arm.

“Not exactly.” He replies, as if I’d care for such an insignificant cut as that. As if he himself hasn’t done far worse to me.

“Are they gone?” I ask. I don’t know what I want him to say, on some level I’ll admit I am regretting my choice, regretting my decision. My mother may have sold me, may have used me as a means to garner power, but realistically, what choice did she have in the matter? Gunther was Chapter Lord, he had enough means to ensure he got what he wanted. It would be madness to expect her to refuse him.

And besides, Devin is hardly a fucking saint, is he?

I shudder as it hits me again that I am still, after all these years, just a pawn, a thing for all these people to fight over and abuse.

Devin

Iput her down on the table. She looks disorientated, confused too, though I can’t blame her for that. I doubt anyone would look too with it, after sitting there in the dirt while a damned battlefield rages around their head.