Page 64 of Degradation (The Brethren Lords #3)

Pailtyn

M y heart thumps in my chest as I make my way down the back passageway. I know if I get caught now, then it’ll all be over.

Collins has his hand around my wrist, leading me on the way someone does an animal going to slaughter and, in a way, that’s exactly how I feel.

He snuck me out, told me to go with him, that Devin asked him to get me and bring me to him. Of course, I was suspicious, but he didn’t exactly give me an option and it’s not like I could make a fuss and risk everyone finding out about this escape plan.

Outside, I can hear the wind howling. A storm must be coming, and it feels even more like a bad omen.

I can’t figure out how to get out of this, how to stop this.

I know if I go with him, if I allow Devin to take me way then it’s an almost certain that Antonio won’t find me. I’ll be trapped, stuck in the same situation as I am now, only I won’t have anyone to help me, and I won’t have any way to escape.

I contemplate calling for help, screaming for the guards, but what good will that do?

If Gunther finds out, I’m convinced this will be the final straw, the excuse he needs to send me to Oblivion.

He can get a new wife then, one of the other girls.

He’s threatened me with it a few times now, threatened to ‘replace me’ because I’m not yet pregnant.

My stomach twists. It’s a small mercy I’m not pregnant, either with his, or someone else’s cursed child.

As we round the corner, we pause, and I hear the sound of light footsteps passing. I guess it’s only a servant and not a guard from the way they walk and once they’re definitely gone, Collins pulls me on, down a flight of steps and into a space that smells musty, earthy too.

I wrinkle my nose, realising that this must be some sort of storage room. Is Devin meant to meet me here? Is that his plan?

We come to a stop, and it feels like the world is on tenterhooks, like something is happening, something awful, only, I can’t see a damn thing.

Suddenly an alarm goes off, it rings out so loud I physically jump in shock.

Collins curses under his breath. Is the game up, then?

Have we been found out before this has even started?

I don’t know whether to feel relief or horror at that, because Gunther isn’t going to see me as a victim here, he’s going to see me as the instigator, the whore who seduced his guards, who somehow persuaded them to help me.

I can feel Collins twisting, turning, like he thinks we’re under attack, like he can see this entire space suddenly filling up.

“What…?” I murmur, only he flings me forward, practically throws me onto the ground and I slam into the cold concrete. Dry, dusty bits of dirty cover my face, my hands, it gets up my nose, it makes me cough so badly and I try to calm myself before it kicks off my asthma.

I hear his panicked footsteps disappearing off as he runs away and leaves me here. Alone.

I have no explanation for this, no reason to be here, wherever the fuck I am.

I try to get up, try to push myself up and I realise that awful throbbing in my wrist isn’t just a bruise.

Did I break it? I whimper, pulling my arm into my chest and I try to shuffle my way over to I don’t even know where.

I can’t hide, I can’t exactly conceal myself when I have no idea where I am, where anything else is.

Something wet seeps up from knees. I pause, feeling the strange liquid now seeping through my skirt.

I frown, reaching down to touch whatever it is. If it’s some spilled food, will it leave a trail? Will it become breadcrumbs that they can follow and lead to me being caught?

As my fingers touch it, I fall backwards, realising with horror what it is. Blood. So much blood.

Panic overwhelms me. Adrenaline makes my heart explode as I frantically try to find the source. What if it’s Devin, what if they’ve found him, realised what he was doing, and they killed him?

No, they wouldn’t just kill him. They’d make an example of him, an example of us. That thought doesn’t give me any comfort.

My hands find something solid, something big.

And then that stench hits me, that familiar, overwhelming, stench that I know only too well.

I scream with horror as I realise it’s Gunther. He’s laying there, unmoving, with what feels like a dagger buried into his stomach right up to the hilt.

I tap his face, try to rouse him, but he doesn’t react. I place my fingers on his neck trying to find a pulse and there’s nothing. Not even a murmur.

My hands tighten around the dagger, around the coarse fabric of the handle. I know that detail, I know that blade. It’s Devin’s dagger. It’s the same one he used on me; the same one I tried to kill myself with.

God, did he do this? Did he kill Gunther? Is this what he meant by getting me out?

I tremble, collapsing beside the man I was forced to marry. The man who’s lying dead in a pool of his own blood.

Devin killed him. He must have done.

As footsteps start clamouring towards me, I stay where I am, paralysed by my horror and my disbelief.

Devin did this. He killed Gunther. He killed him for me.

I shake my head, coming to my senses far too fucking late.

The sounds of footsteps, of guards fill the space. I know guns are now pointed at me as they realise what is happening.

No. No. It can’t end like this. It can’t.

They’re going to take me to Oblivion, they’re going to hurt me more, torture me. God, what is the sentence for killing a Chapter Lord? My tears stream down my face as I realise everything I’ve endured up until now will be paradise compared to that place.

But if I can make them angry, if I can somehow get them to kill me now…

“It was me.” I hiss. “I did it. I killed him.”

I hear the footsteps as Devin pushes his way through, and I panic. I lose complete and utter control.

“He deserved to die.” I spit. “He deserved it for what he did to me.” I realise the blade is still in my hand and I bring it to my throat. Maybe I don’t need them to do it, maybe I can see it done. A throat is better than wrists right. A throat bleeds out far faster.

“I’d rather die than let that man touch me again.” I snarl. “I’d rather die than let any of your arseholes touch me again.”

I drag it quickly, feeling as it starts to slice my skin with a pain I welcome in my very soul. But the guards nearest spring on top of me, they grab at the blade and though I’m able to stab at one of them, another is there, yanking my arm back, forcing it from my hand.

I scream, I kick out. The cut at my neck isn’t nearly deep enough to do any real damage. I’d have done a better job if I’d simply buried the thing in my heart. God, why didn’t I do that?

Someone punches me hard enough to momentarily knock me out. My arms are wrenched back. My legs scrape along the ground and, as they start to drag me away and I hear Devin lose control entirely.