Skye's Sanctuary (The Sanctuary Series Book 5)

by Nikita Slater

  Together we make our way out of the Warlord’s chambers, meeting with our escort as we descend the stairs to the lower levels of the building. The echo of our boots is the only thing we can hear as we walk together.

  A procession I’m proud to be a part of… proud to lead.

  When we reach the basement, Kingston pushes the door open for me. Wolfe is standing on the other side, waiting. He stands straight, his eyes ahead of him.

  I pass him without stopping, safe in the knowledge that he will fall into step behind me.

  He has my back, he will always have my back.

  Unfortunately, the attack comes from the front.

  No one is expecting it, which is how the attacker gets as close as he does. With a horrific scream, a man launches himself from behind Wolfe’s car, the vehicle that I’m supposed to take to the parliament grounds. He runs straight at me, his gun out, bullets firing wildly.

  I throw my wrist up, protecting my head with my metal plated wrist guard. A burning sensation across the back of my arm tells me he scored a hit.

  I drag my knife from its scabbard as Wolfe lunges between me and Hannah, shoving the other woman into the arms of one of the guards. Wolfe shoots the man in the chest as I run my long, curved knife through his stomach.

  “Shit,” I snarl as the man falls to the ground, critically wounded, his gun flying from his hand.

  I drop to my knees next to him while Wolfe stands over him, his gun trained on the man’s head.

  “Who are you?” I demand, gripping his shirt and dragging him up. “What do you want?”

  The man gives me a bloody grin and spits. “You are the blood traitor. We will kill you before you can drag us back into the dark ages.”

  “Anarchist,” Kingston says from behind me. “There’s a small group of them who believe the world is better this way.”

  I’ve heard of the Anarchists, but they’re usually Outsiders. I recognize this man from our Sanctuary; he’s not an Outsider.

  “How many of you are there?” I ask, shaking him.

  “Enough.” His answer is weak.

  I check his pulse. It’s thready and his skin is grey and clammy.

  “We need the doctor.”

  Wolfe shakes his head. “He’s already gone.”

  Sure enough, the man takes his last breath as I hold him. I drop him in disgust and stand, pacing away from him.

  “Is anyone hurt?” I ask, turning back to survey my people.

  “No, we’re fine, but it looks like he winged you,” Kingston points out.

  I looked down at my arm. A slow trickle of blood is making its way down my arm and into my leather cuff. Just what I need. More of a mess before the ceremony.

  “Come here,” Wolfe demands gruffly, and when I comply, he tears his shirt along the hem and uses it to bandage my arm. Blood soaks through the white material, staining it red.

  I stare down at the body. “He lived in Sanctuary.”

  “We’ll have the others rounded up and brought to you, Warlord.” Wolfe holds my gaze, his own implacable.

  “Have them taken to the jail unharmed. I want to interrogate them.” I stare coldly at the men standing around. “Remove this man so we can get to the ceremony on time.”

  I hold my composure until I get in the car. Wolfe climbs into the driver’s seat and guns it out of the garage. My guards, along with Hannah, take the rear vehicle.

  When we’re safely away from the others, I hit the dashboard and shake my head. “I don’t know if I can do this. There are people out there who want to kidnap me because of my blood. Now I find out there are people inside my Sanctuary who want to kill me for the same reason. I can’t win.”

  He looks at me, his gaze steady and serious. “You have no choice. You are our Warlord.”

  “I’m scared,” I admit.

  He brings the vehicle to a stop outside of the parliament grounds, ignoring the people who rush to look inside, to get a look at me, their new Warlord.

  He doesn’t coddle me or tell me not to be afraid. Instead, he says, “Trust me to protect you.”

  I gaze at his serious face, now beloved to me, absorbing the truth of his request. “You have my trust.”

  I reach for the door and step out of the car into a mob of well-wishers, the curious and probably a few Anarchists who are out for my blood.

  Eight

  Wolfe

  The ceremony is completed without incident. Skye is met by her council, including her newest member, Alfonso Delgado of the Mountain People. I keep the man in my sights, not trusting him. The councilwomen are excited to see Skye again and hug her as though they are long-lost sisters. I see the startled expression on her face, then the acceptance of their warm wishes.

  Skye’s guards take her to the lowest point of the ruins of the old city hall and help her to stand on top of a concrete block. The citizens of Sanctuary surround her, filling the ruins above her position so they’re looking down upon her. Her placement is symbolic, meant to show the people of her Sanctuary that she will rebuild their city alongside them. I chose her placement, knowing she would want to be with the people, not above or separate from them.

  She gracefully accepts the responsibility of Warlord when named by the oldest member of our Sanctuary, Dorian Milkstone. She gives a brief speech, promising the people that she will work tirelessly on their behalf and dedicate her life to the safety and prosperity of the Santa Fe Sanctuary. She then introduces her council members and steps down off the concrete block to accept congratulations from her new citizens.

  I had held my distance up to this point, but I can’t allow anyone to get close to her without me at her back. I quickly make my way to her side and subtly guide her to stand in the safest position, her spine against my chest, while greeting the people.

  After the ceremony finishes, I send Skye back to the palace with a guard and meet with my security forces. I give them orders to round up all the Anarchists. Though I would like to string them all from the walls surrounding our city as a warning to others, Skye will want to interrogate them and find a peaceful solution.

  When I made the decision to manoeuvre my woman into the position of Warlord, I knew this moment would come. The moment where I would have to concede some of the security decisions.

  I’d done it when Silas was Warlord, and Skye is a much better replacement for her bastard of an ex-husband. She is worth my concessions. Skye is the best choice for everyone. If we are to survive, then we need a leader who cares about the people. Skye is tough enough to make hard decisions, but she will also base her decisions on the health and happiness of the people of her Sanctuary.

  I climb the stairs of the palace, using the time to readjust my thinking. I am no longer the leader of this Sanctuary. I am the Warlord’s consort. A lesser man might have a problem bowing to a woman. There is no place in the world I want to be more than at Skye’s side, protecting her.

  I find her in our bedchamber, changing out of her armour. Her back is naked, and I trace her spine with my gaze. My feet move toward her as though they have a mind of their own, and soon I’m tracing her spine with my knuckle.

  She turns to smile at me, but her gaze is distant. She’s thinking.

  “Tell me.”

  She nods but takes several long seconds to gather her thoughts.

  “I was thinking about how much things have changed for us. I was kidnapped two days ago, then someone tried to take my life today. If these attacks continue, I won’t always get lucky. Someone will strike out at me when I’m not prepared. What happens to this Sanctuary if I fall? What happens to my friends and my council?” She looks up at me, her eyes suddenly sharp on my face. “What happens to you?”

  “Nothing,” I say simply. “You won’t be struck down.”

  She gives me a half smile that makes my heart stutter in my chest. I hope to see that smile and feel its effects until the day I die.

  “You won’t allow it, will you?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “
As long as I live, nothing will touch you.”

  “My Lancelot,” she murmurs.

  “Who?” I demand in annoyance. She should not have another man’s name is on her lips.

  “He’s fictional. Lancelot was a knight at King Arthur’s round table. He fell in love with Guinevere, King Arthur’s wife, and protected her until his dying day. When I was a child, I hated that Guinevere wasn’t faithful to her husband. Now… I feel differently.”

  I touch her face, running the pads of my fingers down her smooth skin before tucking her hair behind her ear. “One day you’ll have to tell me the entire story of Lancelot and his love.”

  She nods. “One day I will.”

  She reaches for a loose cotton shirt and pulls it over her head. I’m pleased to see that it’s one of mine. She pulls on a pair of black trousers that are tight enough to mould to her ass and thighs. The shirt hangs low enough that only I will be aware of the way her trousers lovingly hug her.

  She slings her gun belt around her hips and adds her knife.

  When she speaks, her tone has shifted away from concern to one of complete control. “I assume you gathered up the Anarchists?”

  I nod. “They await your judgement.”

  She turns to look at me.

  “You’ll accept my judgment, whatever it may be?”

  I give her question some thought, quickly go over every scenario, every judgment, and decide I can live with whatever decision she makes.

  “I will.”

  “Then let’s go.” She strides to the door, but before she can reach it, I grip her arm and swing her into my embrace.

  I take her lips in a plundering kiss that leaves no room for resistance. She’s stiff at first, but gradually submits. By the time I lift my head, she’s warm and willing in my arms.

  “Remember who you belong to,” I tell her, setting her away.

  She narrows her eyes, then straightens her clothes. “I belong to myself, Wolfe.” Her tone is annoyed and her eyes challenge me.

  I take her arm in a tight grip. “You may be Warlord now, but you belong to me alone. Not yourself, not this city, not its citizens. You are mine.”

  When she stares up at me defiantly, I give her a shake. “Say it.”

  She bares her teeth at me in a feral grin. “I belong to you.” Then she jabs her finger into my chest, hard enough to leave a mark. “And you belong to me.”

  When I do nothing but stare down at her, she snarls, “Say it.”

  I want to laugh, she’s so fucking adorable, baring her teeth like an angry wolf pup. Instead, I give her what she wants, because what Skye wants will always be my priority.

  “I belong to you,” I say seriously.

  She stands on her toes and presses her lips hard against mine.

  “Good,” she says and whirls away from me. “Now if you’re done with the caveman routine, lets go.”

  We drive to the security building together and enter. Skye has never been inside, so she looks around, absorbing yet another facet of the Sanctuary that now belongs to her. The building is utilitarian with a cold feel to it. Meant only to hold prisoners until judgement can be made.

  Many of the city’s security forces were at Skye’s swearing in ceremony. They watch her now with a combination of scepticism and wonder as she strides through the building as though she owns the place. She doesn’t know where she’s going and takes a wrong turn. I take her arm so stop her from making a public mistake.

  “This way, Warlord.”

  I take her down the hall toward the secure section housing the jail cells.

  Together we walk side by side and my sense of pride grows as I watch the men gaze after my woman, wondering about her. Soon they will see what she’s capable of and I will glory in her successes.

  We put the Anarchists, fifteen in total, in two side-by-side cells. Each had been frisked for weapons. There are eleven men and four women. They all have one thing in common. Their hostility is unmistakable and targeted at Skye.

  She wastes no time, looking around at the group before speaking in a loud voice, meant to ring through the concrete room with authority.

  “Listen up. One of your group has been killed already. If you want to survive the night, then you better come up with a reason for us to keep you alive.” She looks coldly at each person through the bars of the cells. “My understanding is that you want me dead. Why shouldn’t I have you all publicly executed?”

  The group falls silent as her brutal words reach through the bars and wraps around each one of them like a noose. I look around at the faces as she speaks, cataloguing reactions. Some are defiant, while some are genuinely fearful.

  One man steps toward the bars, his gaze focused on Skye.

  “Because you aren’t the type to kill innocent people.”

  Skye looks at the man and steps toward him. I move as she moves and insinuate myself to her front, without blocking her. She casts me a look but says nothing.

  “You think plotting my death is testimony of your innocence?” she demands. “I am fully capable of having you all killed, like I killed the man who attacked me this morning. Try again.”

  The man looks abashed and admits, “We didn’t know he was going to do that. We had no plans to do anything except talk to you about your plans involving the vaccine.”

  “Now’s your time,” Skye says impatiently. “Start talking.”

  He looks uncomfortable as he looks over his shoulder at the others in his group. An older woman steps up next to him, her eyes on Skye.

  “We have worries about the vaccine,” she says, putting her hand on the man’s arm. “My name is Erin, and this is Devon.”

  Skye nods, but doesn’t speak.

  Erin continues. “We started this movement when we heard the blood saviour… you… were coming to our Sanctuary.”

  “What are your concerns?” Skye asks.

  “Well,” Erin looks at the others, then back at Skye. “We don’t want to have to take the vaccine.”

  Skye looks at the woman curiously. “Why wouldn’t you want to take it? What if you’re bitten?”

  “Then we’ll turn,” Erin says simply.

  Skye frowns. “And you’re okay with that fate?”

  Erin shrugs. “This is the world we live in, why fight it?”

  “So, what I’m hearing is that you’re willing to put the citizens of Sanctuary at risk by refusing to take the vaccine?”

  Erin shakes her head. “No, we think you’re putting us at risk by handing out the vaccine.”

  “What exactly do you think is going to happen?” Skye frowns at Erin and steps closer to the bars.

  I edge further in front of her.

  “Eventually the vaccine will kill us all.”

  “How do you think it’ll do that?” Skye sounds genuinely curious.

  “It’ll turn us into zombies, of course.”

  Skye laughs, then abruptly stops when Erin and the people surrounding her look insulted.

  “Our concerns are not funny,” Erin says regally.

  Skye nods. “You’re right, my apologies.” She clears her throat and paces, thinking. “The vaccine is incapable of turning people into Primitives. We’ve engineered it using the antibodies in my blood. There is absolutely no Primitive virus in the vaccine. I don’t know enough behind the science to give you the specifics, but I know it can’t turn you into a Primitive.”

  “If you can’t explain it, then I don’t want it in my body.”

  Skye looks at Erin coldly. “No one is forcing you to take the vaccine.”

  Erin glares at Skye. “Can you promise never to force your citizens to take it?”

  “No.” Skye’s answer comes quickly. “I will do what is best for my Sanctuary and if we reach a day where the safest course of action is to make sure everyone is vaccinated, then that’s what I will do.”

  “I can’t agree with that,” Erin says with a shake of her head.

  “Then you can leave,” Skye says coldly, then looks a
round at the others. “You can all leave. This Sanctuary has fallen twice. Once during the Great Fall and once again during the Primitive attacks a year ago. I will not risk a third fall. Until we can sustain this city permanently, I will run it as I see fit.”

  “This is our home!” someone from the back says. “I don’t want to leave.”

  Skye looks at the young man. “Then you will obey the rules of the Sanctuary. I have no intention of becoming a despotic leader. I will work as hard as the hardest working citizen. I will take the time to listen to the concerns of my people. We’ve formed a council whose intention it is to make the best decisions for this Sanctuary. Currently, there are ten members of that council. While I will always have final say, I will defer to the opinions of my council.”

  “Why are you telling us this?” Erin asks suspiciously.

  “Because I’m going to give you a choice.” She glares at each person in the two cells, then refocuses on Erin. “You may stay and continue to live in this Sanctuary. If you choose to stay, then I will allow one member of your group to join my council.”

  Erin stares at Skye as though she’s grown another head. “Why would you do that? One of us tried to kill you this morning.”

  “As you have pointed out, you don’t all speak for one violent person.”

  Erin nods thoughtfully. “Alright, we’ll meet and decide who represents us.”

  “Before you decide, I have a few conditions. I will release you from this prison once you give security staff your full names and addresses. You will pledge to commit your time to bettering the community. While I will allow dissenting opinions, I won’t allow chaos. I’ll give you a voice if you promise to use it responsibly.”

  Erin nods but doesn’t say anything.

  Skye looks around, then steps back. “If you choose not to take my offer, then you will be expelled from Sanctuary. Where you go from there, I don’t care. If you choose to take my offer, then I will expect your representative tomorrow at the palace for their first council meeting.”

  Skye nods toward me, showing she’s ready to leave.