by E. S. Carter
“Two million,” the idiotic Frenchman continues. “And that is more than she’s fucking worth, but I’m feeling lavish, my friend. Plus, tonight has already had enough drama, don’t you think.”
“Remember what I told you, Cal,” Grim calls over his shoulder.
Close your eyes.
There’s no need for me to do so, but I obey because I promised him I would.
“What I think is,” Grim begins, his words followed by the Frenchman’s startled gasp. “I think, I told you to keep your fucking eyes off my property or you’d lose them.”
Through a squeezed throat I hear the Frenchman wheeze out, “I’m sorry, please don’t, I will give-”
Then he screams. Shrill, high and so deafening I’m forced to ball my fists and grit my teeth when what I want to do is cover my ears. A squelch followed by a wet pop accompanies the scream at its crescendo and my stomach plummets, bile rising in my throat at the unnatural sound.
“That’s one, shall we go for both?” Grim asks when the man’s voice breaks and his scream becomes a sob.
“No, no, please, I-”
“Too late, I’m a bit OCD and not a fan of odd numbers.”
The ear-splitting shrieking resumes, this time intermingled with Grim’s maniacal laughter.
“Hush, now. That wasn’t so bad.”
A second wet pop, this one, if possible, even more stomach churning than the first and it takes all my willpower not to expel the contents of my stomach all over the marble floor.
I hear a dull thud as the man hits the floor, the stench of warm urine hitting my nose and trying to take me back to dark memories. We are equals now, the Frenchman and I.
“I think I’ll keep these. You don’t mind, do you?”
The man whimpers brokenly, French prayers tumbling from his lips.
“Didn’t think so.”
I flinch when Grim’s hand wraps around my upper arm and he drags me to the door.
“I think we’d better go now,” he chuckles into my ear before unlocking the thick wooden doors and all but carrying me out into the cool night air.
He smells coppery and electric. The stench of the Frenchman’s screams covering him in a coat of vibrating energy.
A car door opens before us, a gentle hand landing on my head and guiding me into the vehicle.
Still, my eyes remain closed.
Grim enters behind me, his huge body pressing against mine before he pulls the door closed and taps twice on the ceiling. The car pulls off smoothly from the kerb and drives away from the market. Away from the newly blind man left whimpering in the exit hallway.
“Open your eyes, Cal,” he states calmly. “You’re safe now.”
I open them to darkness and feel his stare on my face.
“Here, a trophy.” He takes my hand and opens my palm.
“The Kingdom took so much from you, have something of theirs.”
Skin warmed metal touches my hand, my fingers wrapping around the handle of an implement that feels like a big spoon.
“It’ll need sterilising before use,” he chuckles darkly. “But I didn’t think you’d want to share the other trophies I took. Besides, it’d be a shame to split up a matching pair.”
I don’t respond because I know what else he took and it should repulse me.
It doesn’t.
I only wished that my eyes were open to see one of them pay the price for their sins. I wanted to look into the eyes of the Frenchman and know I’d be the last face he ever saw.
Instead, I curve my fingers around the metal gift, feeling a trickle of warm liquid running down the handle and over my skin, and I feel the power of justice.
An eye for an eye.
It’s time to make the whole world blind.
Grim
She clasped that melon baller like it was precious.
How sick was I to gift her with an implement, still warm with blood, that I had moments before used to remove a man’s eyes?
Yet, she held it like I’d given her the world.
“Were you not tempted for two million?”
Her question disarms me and my body, still buzzing with an adrenaline high, abruptly crashes as if we’ve hit a wall and exploded on impact.
“No. Money means nothing to me.” It’s the truth. I do not covet possessions or wealth. The few things I own are precious for their memories, and all are second-hand. My grandmother’s car the only item I own of any monetary worth and even that’s not much.
“What does mean something to you?” she asks, almost timidly.
“Revenge,” I quickly answer because it’s what has fuelled me for so long. “The Hunters,” I add truthfully before taking a deep breath and admitting something else, something crazy. “And you.”
I turn to stare out of the car window, the illuminated Parisian streets passing us by in blurs of colour.
A small, warm hand finds mine. Soft skin skates over my cracked knuckles, tentative fingers curling around my thick digits.
The delicate touch opens and expands something in my chest, and my next breath tastes sweeter. I’m about to move to face her when the car suddenly picks ups speed and takes a sharp right-hand turn before descending the ramp of an underground parking lot. Tyres screech, the vehicle lurches, and Cal ends up thrown flush against my body as my head cracks against the window.
I straighten and lean forward to bang on the partition dividing us from the driver. Nothing.
I press insistently on the intercom buzzer as we careen around more sharp bends, my hand gripping the ‘Oh, shit’ handle when all four wheels leave the asphalt at the end of one particularly steep up ramp. Cal’s soft body presses harder against mine, one of her hands curling into the fabric of my trousers, the other into my suit jacket.
“What the fuck!” I roar, when the car hand-break turns, wheels spinning across the tarmac, my head slamming into the side window once more. Cal is practically on my lap from the momentum, my free arm clutching her to my side.
The car comes to a halt, engine still running and my hand is on my knife when I hear the driver’s door open. A second later, my door gets yanked wide and I’m falling from the vehicle onto the hard floor outside. Cal, who had been leaning entirely on me, follows but catches herself in time to remain inside the car.
With a powerful flick of my legs, I’m on my feet and facing the last person I thought I’d see.
“Henry,” he smiles, his eyes never once looking at my knife raised high in my hand ready to strike. “I’m glad we finally get to meet. I’m-”
“James Renshaw,” I finish for him, my hand tightening on Missy’s handle.
“Ah,” he shakes his head lightly, his easy smile remaining. “I prefer Cooper.”
I scan his face, one that is so much like mine it’s unnerving. Had we grown up together we’d likely be thought of as twins. That observation would never be made now, though. His classic and strong good looks, nothing like my scarred and battle worn features.
I wonder if when he looks at me, he thinks the same. That we are so similar yet so different.
“Where the fuck is my driver?” I demand instead, my gaze flicking quickly over our surroundings and finding us alone in a dark and deserted multi-storey car park.
“He’s… taking a quick nap. In the boot,” he answers, his shoulders shrugging lightly and his grin widening as his hands relax into the pockets of his suit trousers and he leans back against the side of the front passenger door.
“Did you steal some of our property?” he questions, his tone light and unthreatening.
I glance through the wide-open door at Cal sat stiffly in the back seat. The metal melon baller rests against her shoe on the car floor, still coated in the remnants of Frenchy’s eye sockets.
“Just a small token,” I reply coolly, never once dropping my attack position.
His gaze falls to the open door, his view of Cal impeded by the metal.
“I’m not talking about what you took from Phillipe, that
man is an imbecile. I’m talking about the property you used to gain your entry.”
I glare at him, a pronounced show of teeth, a slight tilt of the knife in my hand, enough for the dim lights illuminating the space to glint on the steel blade.
“I am not property.”
We both turn to watch as Cal gracefully exits the car. The nerves she seemed to display earlier are long forgotten. Standing before us now is the girl I met at the water; fierce yet feminine, strong yet delicate, and breathtakingly beautiful.
“You wear our mark,” he replies, nodding towards the tattoo on her almost fully exposed breast. “That marks you as ours for eternity.”
Motherfucker.
“Don’t,” Cal quietly commands when I take an aggressive step forward, my torso resting against the inside of the open door, near enough to slam my knife into his jugular. I still at her request, my body primed and ready to continue, and my mind locked onto her will.
“I’ve already served you for an eternity. My freedom paid for in more than just blood.”
Her hand lands gently on my shoulder blade, my body begging to soften under her touch, my instincts telling me to remain prepared.
“Huh,” James replies with a nonchalant shrug. “I’ve got my wires crossed. I thought you owned her, Henry, when, in reality, she owns you.”
Son of a motherfucking, perverted bitch.
“Enough with the girly chit-chat, Mr Renshaw,” I all but growl, James’ eyes narrowing at the use of his given surname. “You want something, so spit it the fuck out so I can decide if I’m going to gut you or carve out your spine.”
He tuts. He fucking tuts, complete with an eye roll.
Cunting motherfucker.
“You wouldn’t want to do that, Henry,” he chastises, stepping forward challengingly to lean up against the outside of the open car door, putting us chest to chest, only metal between us. “You see, you and I are on the same team.”
“Oh,” I answer back calmly but unable to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “I’m sorry, but I don’t bat for that team. I’m flattered you think so, though. It was the sharp dress sense that fooled you, wasn’t it?”
He laughs then.
He fucking laughs.
Loudly, with his head thrown back, neck exposed just waiting for me to sink Missy into his flesh.
“You’re a King,” Cal interrupts, cutting off his deep laughter. “Why would you be on the same side as us?”
All humour fades from him to be replaced by a burning resolve.
“Because The Kingdom took something from me long ago, and now they must pay.”
Calliah
Lies.
Not even one to be found in James Cooper’s words.
His admission felt like a physical cord, binding the three of us in a tangled web of truths.
“I must leave before my attendance at the market is missed, but I’ll be in touch.” He speaks to Grim, but I feel his gaze focused on me.
“I don’t believe a word out of your filthy fucking mouth. Take a single step away from here, and I’ll decide real quick how you’re about to die.” Grim also doesn’t lie. He doesn’t threaten, every word spoken is a promise.
I step up to Grim’s side. My body wedged awkwardly between his massive frame and the car, my hand still firm against the defined muscles of his back.
“Let him go. He’s telling the truth. He wants to end them as much as we do.”
Grim all but stops breathing, his body locking up in tension and I know we are on a precipice. The three of us set to plummet to the jagged rocks below or drift gently down to the ground on the breeze.
He battles with his decision to step down. His distrust is evident, and his dislike of the man before him even clearer.
“You should know I planned to kill you first,” Grim admits, his back slowly relaxing, his stance softening slightly.
“Understandable,” James replies, unaffected by Grim’s admission.
“You should also know your name is still at the top of my list. In fact, it’s starred with a big fucking asterisk and highlighted in fluorescent green marker. This-” he indicates to the three of us with a tilt of his knife, “-changes nothing.”
James remains silent and unmoved.
“So toddle off and do whatever the fuck you gotta do, but know, I don’t trust you and I’m still coming for you.”
“I’m getting that loud and clear,” James states through a thin smile. “Now, if that’s settled, I must leave, but I have your contact details, and I’ll be in touch tomorrow.”
Then he takes a step back before turning and casually walking away. Each step he puts between us has Grim tensing more.
There’s still a huge chance Grim will attack, so I lean my head against his arm, my cheek pillowed by his hard bicep.
“Oh,” James calls back once he’s a fair distance away. “Tell Cole and Luke Hunter I said hello.”
Grim snarls. The sound rumbles through his body and vibrates against my cheek.
We stay in place for a long while, Grim still waiting for something to happen, still on guard, when a loud banging erupts from the boot of the car, muffled curses and threats coming from within and echoing out into the dark lot.
“We should let the driver out,” I state quietly. I’m more than ready for this night to end, for us to meet Luke at our rendezvous and for me to finally have the chance to digest everything that’s happened thus far.
“Nah,” Grim replies, his muscles slowly softening under my head, his body relaxing at my side. When he finally decides to move, he turns slowly, his arm wrapping around my shoulders to guide me towards the back seat. “That stupid bastard ended up in there-” he states loud enough for the man contained in the boot to hear, “-he can stay in there.”
Repeated dull thuds come in quick succession accompanied by louder muffled yelling. Grim ignores it, choosing instead to make sure I get settled comfortably in the back seat. Before he closes the door to make his way to the driver’s seat, he leans in towards me, and I can feel his warm breath on the side of my face.
“You, ah, did good tonight, Cal. I was, uh, wrong to think you couldn’t handle it.”
He hesitates for a moment before bending to retrieve something from the floor at my feet. Seconds later, the cold metal handle of the implement he gave me earlier, is in my palm.
“Don’t go losing your trophy, Cal. I don’t share my spoils with all the girls, you know.”
Then he’s gone, and I hear the driver’s door open. Seconds later the car rocks slightly as his heavy frame settles into the front seat.
That’s when I close my hand around the scoop and let go of the small smile I’ve been holding back.
I continue smiling to myself the entire short journey to our rendezvous with Luke. Once there, we swap cars. I’m not sure who let the guy out of the boot, or if anyone did because we’re pulling away once more. Within twenty minutes we have moved from the smooth French city roads to a dirt track covered in potholes, and it feels like we hit every single one as I get thrown around the big back seat.
I don’t know where Grim is, he could be driving, or in another vehicle debriefing with Luke. It’s likely the latter, knowing all the things he needs to share about tonight, including the King, James Cooper’s, shocking revelation that he too wants The Kingdom destroyed.
My bones are vibrating in my body by the time the car pulls to a stop and movement outside of my window gains my attention, but nobody comes for me.
Minutes pass in silence until my door suddenly opens and a man I do not know instructs me to get out.
“I’m to show you to your room. Please, follow me.”
He’s polite but abrupt and the scent of leather and fuel waft from him on the night air.
He leads me over some hard ground which makes way to grass, then onto a narrow gravel walkway. We stop, and I hear the creaking of a wooden door before he beckons me in.
“This cottage is yours, the others are all staying in t
he main house, but you are perfectly safe here. The grounds are patrolled and secure.”
I step forward and hit a short timber step, the edge catching my shin, but I manage to correct myself quickly and rise onto the creaky wooden porch.
“There’s food in the kitchen, but you’ll have to make the bed yourself,” he continues, oblivious to my covert assessment of my new surroundings. He misunderstands my delay and becomes irritated, “Listen, Princess, I know it’s not Hunter Lodge, but it’s clean and safe.”
“It’s fine,” I brush him off with a raised hand. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’m tired and would like to go to bed. Thank you for escorting me here.”
I close the door on him before he can say anymore, and lean back against the frame waiting to hear the creak of his steps as he leaves. Once I’m satisfied he’s gone, I wearily slide down to the ground, my bottom all but exposed since I’m still wearing this tiny dress, and my skin hits the cold wood floor causing me to shiver. I should get up and find the bed, but I’m too drained to bother. I pull my knees tight to my chest, wrap my arms around my shins to hold them in place, and slowly my head sinks until it’s resting on the unforgiving surface of my hard, bony knees. Many times, in my cell, I’d find myself in this position without a blanket or mattress on which to lie. It’s funny how I return to this default pose after just one night in The Kingdom’s clutches.
I’m asleep within moments, Damaris running through my dreams, calling for me to catch her.
“Can you see me now, Cal? – It’s a miracle,” she giggles as I chase her through grassy fields, yellow flowers peppering the greenest of grass, the hot summer sun beating down on our heads, insects buzzing around our shoulders tickling our skin and birds singing songs of freedom way up high.
“What does he look like?” she asks me when we take a tumble and sprawl hand in hand in the warm grass. I look over to her smiling face, her eyes wide and blue, her dark hair shining in the sun and her skin healthy and golden. It’s funny how I’ve never seen all this in life, yet in dreams, I know this is exactly how she looked.
