The Uprising (GRIT Sector 1 Book 2)

by Rebecca Sherwin

  I'd given her space. I thought she'd need a night—one night—to lick her wounds and come to terms with what she'd done. I hadn't wallowed in guilt when I took my first life. Sure, Ruby had said it would be different with Trixie. Women have more empathy, she'd said. She'd told me it would take time for Trixie to come around. She was the one who had granted her as much time as she'd had, before Ambrose had forced my hand. Why had I listened? Why hadn’t I told him to fuck himself and go to my grandmother? Why hadn't she been present when he'd threatened me?

  It was fear that made me do it; fear of what would happen to Trixie if he took back control. Fear of what would happen to us if I wasn't there by her side when she stepped into her destiny. Our destiny. Only now she wasn't here. She hadn't come to find me and battle me with the feistiness I craved after our half-fight hate fuck last night. She hadn't come to my bed now she had the right to. She hadn't called for me. She hadn't cried my name in her sleep. Had she? Would I have heard her? I'd fallen asleep with agony in my soul because I wished there was a different future for us.

  There could be.

  But we had to work for it.

  We had to sacrifice.

  We had to stop fighting, throw away a fraction of the passion that made us want to tear each other apart, and find a rhythm that would end the suffering.

  I passed her bedroom as I headed downstairs, freshly showered, forgoing a workout with aching thighs and a heavy heart after our wedding night. There was no sound coming from inside. Trixie was still sleeping and I prayed she'd found some peace in slumber.

  Placing my palm on the door, I whispered, "I'm sorry," before I backed away and walked down the stairs towards a new day.

  "Good morning, son," Ambrose said as I stepped into the dining hall.

  Breakfast was set out across the table, a meal fit for an entire palace, and I felt the absence of my princess in the depths of my soul.

  "How was your wedding night?"

  He was taunting me, the bastard. I had to remind myself he was my father and not a criminal. If I thought about what he'd done, how he'd run GRIT when he was in charge. Things would be different now, but I wouldn't cut off the man who had gifted me with this life.

  "Good morning," I said, joining him at the table, taking a seat next to him at the head. "It's done."

  No sooner had I said the words, my phone rang. I took it out of my pocket and held it to my ear.

  "Sir?" Joe said on the other end. "We have a dead body in cell 7."

  "I know," I clipped. "What's your point?"

  "Ms Ashford did it?"

  "Yes, Lady Blackwood did it."

  "Wow." He huffed and I imagined him dragging his hand through his dirty locks. "She did it."

  "Is there a point to this call, Joe?"

  "Yes. Sorry, sir." He stuttered over the next part. Why, I didn't know. It wasn't the first body he'd walked in on. "What - how -" He cleared his throat. "How would you like me to dispose of the body, sir?"

  "I don't care. Burn it or don't, I don't care."

  "Does Lady Blackwood need to make the decision?"

  No. God, no. I just wanted to let her forget about it. I didn't want to take her to the body that she'd left there all night, reminding her of it, and educating her on our disposal methods. But—I sighed—it was custom. Trixie had to choose.

  "She'll be given the choice. Lock the cell, I'll be in touch when she wakes."

  "Yes, sir."

  I ended the call and placed my phone on the table.

  "Does that answer any questions you were going to ask next?"

  "It does." Ambrose slapped my back. "I'm proud of you, son."

  The fourth time he'd said it. I didn't feel anything now. Lucky number four, and Trixie—my love for my wife—had stripped me of my ability to absorb my father's pride. I no longer sought out his acceptance. I wanted my wife's.

  "Where is the delectable Trixie this morning?"

  "She's in bed, sleeping. She'll be left alone until she's ready to emerge."

  "Very well."

  My father flipped up the newspaper and opened it. Another idiotic move from the man who created my life. He never read the newspaper; he was skim reading it now so I couldn't. So I'd be forced to let my mind wander when I'd trained to distract it. Sighing, I put together my breakfast and ate it in silence, glancing up at the ceiling where my princess slept above me.

  Trixie still hadn't emerged when I stepped from the office after handling GRIT business. I should have held a meeting, should have brought everyone together on the morning after my wedding night, thanked them for their attendance and discussed the next step. I hadn't. I’d scanned through the folders I'd taken from the bank last time I was there, and tried to find a mild case to handle with Trixie. The best way to help her heal was to flush the wound out with more blood. I had to remind her why we did this—why she'd done what she'd done.

  Her avoidance was quickly becoming annoying. I needed her to step out of her room and greet me like a wife should, like my Ashford should have wanted to. It hurt that she didn't want to see me on our first day as man and wife, and in my world, hurt and abandonment morphed into rage. I pulled my jacket off, tossed it to the floor and untucked my shirt as I ran up the stairs.

  She couldn't lay in bed all day and avoid me. There was plenty of space for her outside if she wanted to get away, but I needed to know she was okay.

  I didn't knock or wake her gently with sweet words uttered through heavy wood. I opened the door wide, cracking it against the wall behind.

  She was gone.

  I roared.

  How long had she been gone? Where was she? Why the fuck had she run?

  Tearing from her room, I ran downstairs and into the foyer, calling for Christen and Chester. They flew from wherever they were hiding, their panic-stricken faces telling me everything I needed to know.

  "Where is she?" I asked anyway, hoping for a miracle.

  Christen shook his head and Chester muttered, "We don't know, sir."

  "You don't know?!" I tore my hands into my hair and pulled. "How can you not know? It's your job to know!"

  "It appears she snuck out of her chambers at dawn."

  "Dawn?"

  That was hours ago. I'd dined without her, sat in the office pining for her. I'd tried my best to make this easier for her, while she was...where?

  "Summon the dogs."

  Clive, our dog handler, strode towards the house as I stormed outside. He held eight leads in his hands, a rabid Rottweiler attached to the collar on the end of each one. They weren't police-trained sniffer dogs, but they would do. I'd already called for the hounds to arrive from Sector 3, but I needed a head start. Lola ran out from where she'd been summoned and handed me Trixie's clothes. I hadn't asked for specifics, just that they'd be dirty. I couldn't guarantee the items wouldn't be contaminated by my scent, but it would have to do. I tossed the clothes at Clive, who caught them and turned around before he could take another breath, offering them to the dogs. One by one he let seven of them off the leads, keeping one to lead us as the others ran ahead, in the same direction. I grabbed the eighth dog from him and let it run, pulling me along in frantic haste to catch up with Trixie before she did something stupid...stupider than attempting to run from me. The dog tore through the woodland, throwing up bark and dead wildflowers, pulling me along the path behind him. He barked. The others barked. Then silence.

  They'd found her.

  Beatrice was hesitant about me returning when I asked her if I could come back.

  "You don't have any mirrors," I said by way of persuasion. "I'd like to show the children what they look like. I just want to give them something in return for welcoming me today. All of you, really."

  "Appearances are not important. We don't have mirrors because they're not natural. The children, all of us, catch our reflections in the lake where we bathe and in the cutlery we polish, and that is enough for us." She cleared her throat, ready to condemn my way of living. "Self-consciousnes
s is not for children, ma'am. Judging themselves based on their appearance isn't how they've been brought up."

  "But they're different," I said, entirely unsure where I was going with this. "They're beautiful. Every person I've met today is stunning in their own way. Isn't it up to them to decide if they want to embrace the features they've been given?"

  Now I wanted to demand she stopped arguing. Now I wanted to tell her she had no choice—I was returning. But the old lady stood firm and shook her head.

  "I'd like to respectfully decline your offer, Lady Blackwood."

  I sighed, glancing around me at the village brimming with simple life. I didn't know if I'd remember how I got here. I didn't know if I'd be able to sneak up on them and capture their beauty without them knowing. I wanted to. Every single person in this village held a story and I wanted to capture it with art.

  "Beatrice-"

  Dog barks sounded out in the distance, from deep in the forest where I'd emerged from this morning. I turned to look for the source of the sound. Had someone tried to threaten the estate? I couldn't see anything, but I wasn't the only one who feared their presence. Beatrice froze on her chair next to me, and the village stilled with fear and obedience. One dog shot from the foliage. Another followed and another, until seven rabid beasts were bolting towards the village. Then they stopped. When they reached the threshold, they sat in a horizontal line and waited.

  Seven dogs.

  An uneven number.

  The eighth burst from the opening, barely restrained by a thick black leather lead, controlled by a man more menacing than all of these violent pets put together. His black eyes trained on me and the dog stopped next to the others, looking up at Elias for a pat on the head.

  "What are you doing here?" he yelled, not waiting to get closer to me before he let his anger free.

  "What does it look like I'm doing?"

  "I don't know, Trixie. I was convinced you'd been in bed all day." He stopped in front of me, hands balled into fists by his sides. "What are you doing?"

  "I went for a walk this morning and found the village. Beatrice showed me around and I ate some food. I was just saying goodbye when your fucking army turned up."

  "Watch your mouth."

  I rolled my eyes. Who did he think he was, bursting into this sanctuary and ruining the tranquillity here?

  "What are you doing here?" I asked, shoving my finger into his chest. "Afraid I'd ran away?"

  I saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the truth I knew he'd tried to hide. Yes, he was afraid. Had been. Now he was just angry and it collided with mine in a torrent of conflict and hate and lust.

  "You're a mile away from the house. That's more than just a walk for a woman who claims she's so unfit."

  I stared at him, the ache from last night suddenly returning with a heat that wasn't permitted after his intrusion, and the unwarranted anger that bubbled in his onyx eyes. I said nothing. He said nothing, his nostrils flaring as his anger mounted. I didn't care. I'd found a little bit of heaven here today and I wouldn't let Elias take it from me.

  "You should leave," I said, taking a step back.

  "Excuse me?"

  "I want to stay here."

  "Not happening." He grabbed my wrist, then his other hand clamped around my elbow and he yanked me towards him. "You're not to return here."

  "What?"

  I shrieked and tried to pull out of his hold, but he was too strong. The dogs growled their frustration, reacting to the intensity of the atmosphere and sensing danger. We'd kill each other, of that I had no doubt. I didn't want his hands on me. I didn't want his lies and manipulation. He was angry for whatever reason, not that he had one, and he was stubborn. He'd refuse to give it up until he felt like he'd won.

  Only, I didn't feel like a loser today. I wouldn't give into his will just because my body demanded to be closer to his and my heart hammered in my chest as it searched for its other half in him.

  "What the fuck is your problem?"

  I shoved at him again, trying to plant my feet in the gravel as he dragged me along the edge of the forest. The dogs followed closely behind and I didn't know if it were for my protection or Elias'. I looked behind me and saw the village silent and still. Sarah stood next to Beatrice, clutching the drawing to her chest. She waved, her little finger tickling in a sad farewell.

  "I swear to God, Ashford," he growled. "I'm this close to snapping. One more expletive and I'll hang you from a fucking tree."

  Death. He was threatening me with death. That was punishment for betrayal, right? That was the fate I'd suffer if I didn't bow to my husband and beg for his forgiveness when I wasn't the one in the wrong here.

  "Stop!" I cried, growing short of breath and heavy with sudden exhaustion. "Please, stop!"

  I shoved him again, the agony in my voice finally affecting him and making his step falter.

  The dogs pounced. One jumped me from behind, its giant paws on my shoulders as it crushed me to the ground. Elias still held me tightly and I swear, I felt my shoulder pop. Another set of paws clawed at my head, another on my legs as a set of hot teeth latched onto my t-shirt. I screamed and fought back, trying to get out from beneath the pack, but they were too strong. They'd received the training I'd been in the dark to.

  "Heel."

  One word from my husband and the dogs froze, their growling breaths ceasing to invade my ears and fill me with terror. They stepped off of me and once again, sat silently in a row.

  "Get up, Trixie." Elias grabbed my arm, ignoring my cry as he wrenched me to my feet. "I told you to be careful. They're trained to protect."

  "Shouldn't that include me? Shouldn't they protect me too, if I'm so precious."

  "Precious you are, my princess." He brushed some sand from my face and stroked my bottom lip with his thumb. "But you're not their master."

  "Who are you, Noah of the arc?"

  He laughed then, throwing his arm around my shoulder and urging me on with as much force as his possessive grip had held just moments ago.

  "Don't laugh at me. You control humans and you control animals, all on this grand quest to save us from our sins."

  "Then you may call me Noah, if it really tickles your fancy."

  "Nothing would tickle my fancy more than being a million miles away from you. You're a monster."

  "I warned you of that, too."

  Of course he had. Why hadn't I listened?

  "What's your problem?" I asked, deciding to stop fighting to go back to the village. They hadn't protected me either. "You said I wasn't trapped here. That I could come and go as I please."

  "You can." He shrugged, dragging me closer to him. "Just not there."

  "I couldn't find my way back if I tried."

  "Good."

  It was a lie. One he hadn't detected. I was honing in on instincts I thought I'd been denied, and memorising the way back. Elias wouldn't drag us through the forest; he'd show me an easier way to get home, and a simpler way to return.

  "So…?" I said. "What's your problem?"

  "You were gone. After everything that happened last night, you just left. You can't do that."

  "Why not? I can't walk out of the door without telling you exactly where I'm going?"

  "No." He shook his head. "There are things you can't see, Trixie. There are dangers here you know nothing about. The dogs are just the beginning. Why do you think I assigned you handlers?"

  Handlers? I had more than one? I knew I had one watching over me; I'd been granted mercy when he hadn't noticed me sneak out this morning. But multiple? Why did anyone need multiple handlers?

  "They're reporting back to you."

  "Yes. They are. Although they didn't do such a good job today."

  "What for? You don't trust me?"

  "I don't trust that you want to stay with me."

  "I can't deal with babying you today."

  God, why did I say that?

  I would have babied him every day of my life if he needed me to. I would
have licked his internal wounds and sewn his heart back together if he asked me to. Anything to prove to him how much I loved him, even if we both knew I shouldn't.

  "Elias, I'm your wife. You need to trust me."

  "And I'm your husband. You need to obey me."

  "We took that word out of our vows."

  "Doesn't make it any less significant."

  "Why can't I go to the village?"

  "Because I said you can't."

  "And that's it?" I tried to stop again, but stumbled, gripping onto him instead. "You do the 'because I said so' thing and I'm supposed to shrug off my desire to go back?"

  "There's nothing there for you."

  "The fact that you said that tells me there is."

  "Stop talking."

  We'd travelled back to the night we met, where my questions bored him because he couldn't be bothered to be honest with me. If he had, would we have been here?

  I'd do as he'd asked. I'd stop talking. I wouldn't force him into engaging in conversation he very clearly didn't want to have. But I'd continue to ignore and avoid him. This was no healthy way to start a marriage—shit—but what else was there to do?

  "Stop."

  I ground to a halt, mustering the strength from somewhere deep within to overpower him. He stopped, jolted back by my unexpected power.

  "We talk. Now. I'm not going home until you talk to me."

  Elias looked around him. We were in the middle of a field. Neutral ground. The village was in the distance, whatever threat he felt gone. The house hadn't yet come into sight, which meant I was safe—for now. I dropped to the ground and crossed my legs.

  "Why do you have to push?" he asked, dragging his hands through his hair.

  "It's my job to challenge you and you love it. Do as I'm asking, Elias."

  He turned his head to the side and took a deep breath as he looked around us. Finally, he sat on the ground opposite, whistling at the dogs. They fled the scene, back to wherever they sat on guard.

  "So talk."

  "I wanted to leave," I confessed. "I stumbled on the village when I was trying to escape."

  Elias scoffed. "There is no escape."