Page 36 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

The door was locked from the outside. They couldn’t get to it, even with the dagger.

So they had no choice but to wait for someone to enter their cell. He had already missed one opportunity.

He flexed his fingers, testing his grip strength. Still weak, but functional. His legs felt like lead, but he could move them. He’d have to make do.

“You should have woken me up,” he said gruffly. “We needed to escape.”

Leila turned to study his face, her dark eyes searching his features.

“You were too weak. You wouldn’t have been able to stand, much less run. And if we needed to fight…” She paused, her gaze lingering on a particularly dark bruise on his ribs. “I don’t think you’d fare well either.”

“You’re underestimating me.” He tried to sit up straighter to prove her wrong, but even that small movement left him breathless.

Damn it all to hell.

“Perhaps,” she said softly. “But as a healer, I’ve seen many men as bruised as you. You’ll regain your strength, but that requires actual rest.”

He found himself studying her profile in the dim light.

Even here, in this moment, there was something compelling about her: the elegant line of her neck, the way shadows danced across her sharp cheekbones, the determined set of her mouth.

She was beautiful, yes, but it was more than that.

There was a strength in her that he was only beginning to understand.

“Tell me,” he said suddenly, “how does a healer become an assassin? You said you were fourteen when you crossed paths with the Cardinal?”

“Not exactly.” She hesitated, her fingers picking at a loose thread on her shirt. “I was never truly a healer… My mother was. I tried to follow in her footsteps, but fate had other plans.”

“She had a small apothecary shop by the docks.” As she spoke, her voice took on a distant quality, as if she were seeing the place in her mind’s eye.

“A lot of sailors and tradesmen would come in with their ailments—cuts that had become infected from dirty work, fevers from foreign ports, broken bones that hadn’t set right.

It was a popular spot. We were lucky to be there. ”

He could picture it—a small shop filled with the scent of herbs and healing oils, shelves lined with bottles and jars, a woman with Leila’s dark eyes grinding roots and mixing tinctures.

“And what of your father?”

She shifted restlessly, her shoulder pressing more firmly against his. “I never knew him. He left us when I was just a babe. Technically, my mother was still married to him all those years, but he just left one day and never returned.”

The matter-of-fact way she spoke didn’t conceal the old hurt beneath the surface.

“Bastard.”

She shrugged. “I don’t think he was a good man.”

“Obviously, he wasn’t.”

“What I mean is…” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “I don’t think a man who can abandon his family on a whim would make a good father. Perhaps leaving us was the best thing he did. We were happy, my mother and I.”

Her voice was soothing and comforting. There was something hypnotic about her gentle cadence that made him want to close his eyes and simply listen. He wanted her to keep talking, to share more about the life she’d lost, this happiness that had been taken from her.

“What about your brother?”

The change in her expression was immediate. Her lips spread into a beautiful smile, and her entire face seemed to light up, years falling away until he could see the girl she must have been before the world had taken its toll.

“He was the most precious little boy. When he was born…” She paused, her smile turning mischievous. “I was surprised at how ugly he was.”

She let out a bright, musical laugh, and Gideon couldn’t help but laugh as well, even though his lungs burned and his ribs ached with the movement.

She looked at him strangely, as if in wonder. Had she never heard him laugh before? When had he last heard himself laugh? Really laugh?

He couldn’t remember.

Her smile softened as she continued, “People always tell you that babies are beautiful, but…” She wrinkled her nose, her eyes dancing with mirth. “I disagree.”

Gideon laughed again, deeper this time, not regretting the pain that accompanied it. The ache in his ribs was nothing compared to the warmth spreading through his chest. Laughter didn’t cure all wounds, but it did lift his spirits a little.

“Apologies,” Leila said, her smile fading as she noticed him wince. “I didn’t mean to make you laugh. I know it hurts.”

“I’d rather it hurt from laughing than the other thing,” he coughed out.

“I like your laugh,” she offered. “I just wish it didn’t hurt you so.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her. “Please continue.”

Leila studied him with a worried expression, then finally gave a slight nod.

“As I said, I initially didn’t find him beautiful at all.

But he was a tiny little thing…” Her voice softened, filled with fondness.

“My mother was busy with the customers, and I was left to look after him. It wasn’t easy at first—I was terrified I’d drop him or hurt him somehow.

It was frightening for an eleven-year-old to have this helpless little creature depending on her.

But in just a few days… I came to love him. More than life itself.

“He was very active, learning to walk and talk at an early age. Always getting into everything, asking endless questions. He was the smartest little child—still is. He may not be little now, but to me, he always will be.”

“Who is his father?” Gideon asked carefully.

Leila’s expression changed instantly, the warmth draining from her features. She looked away, staring at the opposite wall.

He wished he hadn’t asked. He missed her smile already, missed the light it had brought to her face.

“I don’t know,” she said quietly, her voice flat and distant. “My mother never told me, and she wasn’t being courted by anyone at the time. There wasn’t a man she was interested in.”

She paused, and in that silence, Gideon heard all the things she wasn’t saying. His hands clenched into fists.

“I don’t think it was a wanted encounter on her part,” she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “I remember her becoming withdrawn and sad during that time. She would cry when she thought I wasn’t looking… But she got better. She had to. For us. She was a strong woman.”

“What happened to her? Where is she now?” he asked.

“She contracted an illness from one of her patients. Some sailor who’d come back from the eastern ports with a fever that wouldn’t break.

” Leila’s voice was even now, resigned, as if she’d told this story so many times that it had lost the power to hurt her.

“She died from the fever.” She swallowed hard.

“I didn’t see her go. She didn’t let us look after her because she was afraid we would catch the illness too.

She locked herself in her room and told us to stay with the neighbor, no matter what we heard. Some healer I am,” she added bitterly.

“You were a child,” Gideon said firmly, wishing he could take away her pain and guilt. But she didn’t acknowledge his words; she didn’t even seem to hear them.

Christ, Gideon thought, his stomach churning with a mix of rage and sickness. Her backstory was already heartbreaking, and she hadn’t even reached the worst part yet.

“We stayed with a neighbor after that. She was a lovely woman.” But her voice held a lilt of doubt when she said it. “At least, I thought she was at the time.”

She fell silent, her fingers working at that loose thread again, pulling at it until Gideon feared it might unravel the entire seam.

“It was while we lived with her that two men came into our shop—my shop, I suppose, since I was the owner at fourteen.” The bitterness in her voice was unmistakable.

“They came a few times, asking strange questions. I don’t remember exactly what, but they made my skin crawl.

There was something wrong about them. I could feel it. ”

Gideon’s jaw clenched so hard he thought his teeth might crack. He could picture those men—large, strong, terrifying—watching a young girl with no protection, no family to defend her.

“Then one evening, this woman—the neighbor we lived with—simply handed us over to them.” Leila’s voice dropped to barely above a whisper. “Just like that. She urged me to go with them, saying they had an important job for me, that I would be rich and able to take care of Emir properly.”

She grimaced, the expression twisting her features.

“I trusted her. And to this day, I still don’t know if she genuinely believed we were walking into a better life or if she sold us to them for silver.”

Rage rose in Gideon’s chest, hot and consuming. His vision actually went red around the edges, and for a moment, he fantasized about finding that woman and making her pay for what she’d done to two helpless children.

Breathe, he told himself. Getting angry won’t help Leila now.

She was so calm, so matter-of-fact when retelling the story. It was clear she’d practiced this detachment, learning to recite the events without reliving them. The control she displayed was both admirable and heartbreaking in equal measure.

Gideon didn’t want to upset her with his emotions—not now, when they needed clear heads. But inside, he was burning with the need for vengeance on her behalf.

“Was the Cardinal one of those men?” he asked, his voice careful and controlled.

“No.” Her answer was instant and sure. “I don’t know who those men were. But they took us on a ship and locked us in a tiny cabin that was barely big enough for both of us to lie down.”

She shook her head, her eyes growing distant and dark.

“You can guess what happened next. I won’t tell you the details.”

Thank God, Gideon thought, because he wasn’t sure he could hear them without losing what little composure he had left.