Page 14 of Wild Bond (Wild Bond #1)

S mooth as a dancer, Rake rose to his feet and slipped through the crowd toward the back of the establishment as I followed close behind him. I marveled at how, even though he was one of the largest men here, and taller than most, he moved so fluidly through the sea of people, barely making contact with anyone as he passed.

It only took a few minutes until we were at one of the holding room doors. The door wasn’t locked, and since another fight had already started, no one noticed as we slipped silently inside.

Rake shut the door behind us as I took in the narrow hall we now found ourselves in. It was dim and smelled of sweat and something sour and stale.

A noise came from the door at the end of the corridor, and the handle turned as if it was about to open.

Before I even saw him move, Rake opened another door to our left and pulled me inside. The room was dark and cramped, and I could only assume was a storage closet of some kind.

Rake left the door open just enough so that a sliver of the thin light filtered in. I heard a low grumble and the clank of metal, or possibly keys jangling, as a shadow strode past our hiding spot. I thought I caught a glimpse of the man who I had seen escorting Borden back here after the fight, but I wasn’t sure. A door opened and closed, and I guessed the man had exited back out to the main floor.

In my mind, I could feel Skye monitoring everything that was happening to me. Right now, she seemed more amused than anything that Rake and I were hiding in a closet.

“I think he’s gone,” I whispered, trying valiantly to ignore my body’s reaction to being this close to Rake and being surrounded by his citrus and sage scent.

He nodded, obviously not as affected by our closeness as I was. “Follow me,” he murmured.

Then, apparently knowing where he was going, he strode confidently down the passageway before stopping at the closed door the man had just come from. He paused, listening as if to determine if anyone was on the other side.

I stopped beside him, hearing nothing.

He then peered down at me as he pulled something from his clothing.

I realized what they were a second before he placed the set of lock picks in my hand. “Care to demonstrate your talents, little thief?” he taunted. “Or are you too rusty?”

I stared up at him and smiled. I couldn’t help teasing him as I replied, “This lock a little beyond your skills, Commander?” One glance told me the lock was about as simple as they came, and we both knew it.

The look he gave me in return was full of mock censure and so much unexpected heat I fought not to expire on the spot. “Just open it.”

As I stuck first one pin then the second into the locking mechanism, I couldn’t help but think of that heated look and how it was getting harder and harder for me to deny what I saw in his eyes. Not to mention near impossible to fight my reaction to it. Mentally berating myself that this was neither the time nor place for these kinds of thoughts, I was glad when the tumblers finally unlocked with a quiet snick.

I rose to my feet and slipped the lockpicks discreetly into my cloak.

“I saw that,” he accused from directly behind me, and I shuddered a little as his warm breath danced down my neck.

Before I could respond, he moved around me and opened the door.

I’m not sure what I expected to see on the other side, but the simple, rundown office that was revealed when Rake finally moved aside was not it. The man sitting in the chair behind the chipped wooden desk with his hands tied behind his back however, was even more unexpected.

Borden sat there sedately, looking bored and slightly confused at our sudden appearance. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the fact that he was tied to a chair, or that he had crushed a man to death with his bare hands not ten minutes ago.

“Who are y-you?” he demanded, his question coming out slightly slurred.

If it was possible, he looked even worse than he had during the fight; still pale, with that slightly dazed and feverish look, but now beads of sweat dripped down his face, and his eyes were extremely bloodshot. I wondered if he had taken something.

“We’re here to ask you a few questions, Borden,” Rake said, purposely not answering him as we both stepped inside. I gently closed the door behind us.

One lone candelabra sat on the edge of the desk, and it was the only light in the room. The sounds coming from the current fight were now only a muffled rumble in the background.

The man shook his head. “No, you can’t be here. It’s not safe . . . I’m not safe. You should leave.”

Not safe? I opened my mouth to ask him what he meant, but Rake spoke up first.

“A month ago, you were commissioned to create a large order of thick, heavy chains,” Rake stated. “Do you remember?”

Borden looked confused at the change of subject, but then his expression shifted. “My brother was commissioned,” he corrected. “It’s his business. He gave me a job when no one else would. Had a weakness for drink since before I can remember, see . . . my brother took me in . . . gave me a chance . . . and I messed it all up.”

“What do you mean, you messed it all up?” Rake asked. “Do you remember the order or not?”

“Of course, I remember. The man said they needed to be strong . . . unbreakable.”

“This man, did he say what he needed them for?”

Borden shook his head. “I didn’t ask. Not my business, and the man didn’t seem the type to like a lot of questions.”

“Who was he?” Rake demanded, his gaze intent. “Who ordered you to make those chains?”

“Don’t know,” Borden wheezed out, bending forward slightly in the chair as if suddenly in pain. A slight tremor wracked his large frame. Rake and I shared a glance.

Something was wrong with him. And why was he tied up?

Borden seemed to get ahold of himself after a few seconds and sat back up. “I—I think he came from the castle.”

“Why do you think that?” Rake prodded, his voice surprisingly calm now.

Borden scrunched up his nose as if he had to think hard. “The man wore expensive clothing . . . and he had a large oval ring on a chain around his neck. Saw it when his cloak parted. Some kind of crest. Almost looked like the tree of Andor.”

Everything in me went still.

Rake took a step forward. “This man, he carried the royal seal?”

Borden shook his head, sweat dripping down the side of his face. His breath was coming even more heavily now, and his skin looked almost opaque in the candlelight, his veins more pronounced. “Not sure about that, but it—it looked official. I figured he must be someone important up at the castle. A lord or something . . .” He trailed off, appearing to lose his train of thought.

“What did this man look like?” Rake persisted.

Borden coughed, then shook his head as if trying to clear it. “I—I don’t remember. I want to say he was older, but I can’t recall. My head is pounding.”

Rake looked frustrated with this response. Then a strange look crossed his face, as if something had just occurred to him. He pulled an ornate silver ring off his finger and held it up for the man to see.

“Did the ring look like this?”

Borden squinted in the dim light and Rake took a step closer. “Maybe—yes. Yes, I think so. But I . . . I didn’t get a close look at it. But yes, it could have been a ring like that."

Rake’s face went slightly ashen. I instantly wondered at the significance of the ring and why Rake’s was similar.

“What color was the ring? Was it gold or silver?” Rake questioned, urgency in his tone.

Borden shrugged and coughed. “I can’t remember. Silver, maybe? As I said, it was just a glance.”

Lowering his hand and clutching the ring in his fist, something ticked in Rake’s jaw. After a moment of silence that felt too heavy, Rake cleared his expression of all emotion, back to that impenetrable mask. When he changed the subject again, I wondered if it was some kind of interrogation tactic.

“Where have you been, Borden?” he asked softly.

The man had begun breathing hard, as if he had just run a mile, and once more shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“That’s a lie, Borden,” Rake accused, voice still smooth as silk. “How can you not know where you’ve been for over a month?”

“You don’t understand,” he pleaded desperately. “I don’t remember. I can’t remember anything after I delivered the chains. It’s foggy . . .”

Rake’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean? Where did you deliver the chains?”

Borden took in a gasping breath of air. “We received a message that someone would pick up the order just outside the eastern city gate. It was the middle of the day, so I didn’t think anything of it when I volunteered to make the delivery. But when I arrived, no one was there to meet me. Then . . . then I think I was struck from behind, and I can’t—I can’t remember . . .” He swallowed hard. “Next thing I knew, I woke up in the street. My wrists were bleeding and rubbed raw like—like I had been chained. And I didn’t—don’t feel right. I haven’t since . . .” His eyes took on that slightly glazed look again. “I close my eyes and smell rotten smoke and hear crying . . . a woman’s voice . . .”

There was a long silence, and when Borden didn’t go on, I cleared my throat. “Borden, why do they have you bound? Are you here against your will?”

Rake glanced at me, but he didn’t stop my line of questioning.

“No,” Borden gasped out, suddenly looking like he was in pain as a spasm wracked his entire body. When he got control of himself again, he continued in a rasping voice, “I—I asked them to.”

Confusion swept through me. “You asked them to tie you up? Why?”

Another shudder wracked him, and I could see foam gathering at the corners of his mouth. His giant arms bulged as if he was tugging at the restraints. The chair creaked beneath him.

“Rin,” Rake’s voice was low and held a warning as he watched the man closely.

I sent him a look that said I could see for myself that something was wrong. “Borden, why did you ask to be tied up?” I repeated.

The man’s head thrashed from side to side and his chest rose and fell rapidly with how hard he was breathing. “Not . . . safe,” he gritted out.

So, he was afraid of himself? Of what he might do? Was the man truly insane and having some kind of episode before our eyes? I mean, he was obviously ill, but from what? Did wherever he’d been taken have something to do with his current state? Had something been done to him?

Before I got a chance to ask any of these questions, the man lurched forward, nearly coming out of his chair. In an instant, Rake was in front of me with a dagger drawn and angled in the thrashing man’s direction.

I was about to remind Rake that I could defend myself, and he didn’t need to jump in front of me like I was some helpless maiden from the old tales, when Borden suddenly let out a ferocious roar that didn’t sound human.

I glanced to him and for the first time noticed what looked to be visible red veins pulsing under his skin. They extended down his arms and up from the neckline of his shirt. It reminded me of something I had seen once. A homeless man who worked one of the market street corners had come down with an infection of the blood. Just before he died, his veins had looked like that.

Borden’s back arched. He let out another gurgling shout, and foam dripped down the sides of his mouth. “It hurts!” he cried, agony plain on his features.

Then his eyes rolled back in his head and his entire body went limp in the restraints. He gave one last guttural sigh and went still.

We stood there in shock for a moment before I stammered stupidly, “He’s—he’s dead.”

Rake said nothing as he moved closer to Borden’s now lifeless frame. He gave the man a once-over, likely memorizing every detail of what he saw.

I heard a noise outside in the corridor.

“We should go,” I said, gulping past the lump in my throat. Someone had to have heard Borden’s screams.

Rake looked at me and nodded just as the door opened.

A middle-aged man walked in, quickly shutting the door behind him.

I froze, not sure what to do. Then quickly decided to knock him out so Rake and I could try and slip out unseen.

But before I could even reach for my dagger, planning to use the hilt to knock the man out, he surprised me by saying, “I got your message, sir. Saw you come back here and thought I’d lend a hand if you needed it. Make sure no one followed you.”

It took me a second before I realized he was looking past me and speaking to Rake.

Rake relaxed as he nodded and sheathed his knife. “Thank you, D.” Rake met my confused stare and gestured to the man at the door. “Rin, this is D. One of my informants. D, this is—”

“I know who she is,” the man interrupted, grinning. “I was in the crowd that day in the square. Not something I’m likely to forget.” He bowed his head respectfully. “And I never forget a face, milady. Especially not one like yours.”

I took a second look at the man, not sure how to respond as I simply nodded.

He was of an average height and build, with brown hair and nothing too distinguishable about his features. Nothing memorable. Perfect for a spy, I realized.

“I need this body disposed of quietly,” Rake ordered, gesturing to Borden. “Take it somewhere outside the city and burn it. Get someone to help you.”

D gave no reaction as he took in the gruesome sight of the dead man in the chair. “Yes, sir. I think T is here tonight. We’ll see it done.”

D? T? They must be abbreviated names.

Rake came to stand at my side once again. “Let me know if you run into any trouble.”

D nodded. “Will do.”

Without another word, Rake took my arm and led me from the room.