by Penelope Sky
I just had to get through those thirty seconds.
And then it would be over.
My body would hang there until they cut me down and added me to the pile of other corpses, and no one would discover my bones for a long time. There would never be a grave. I would never have children to honor my memory until they were gone. My death would be like my life…like it never really mattered.
But if those were the last moments of my life, I would go with my head high, wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of my tears, of my pleas. I wouldn’t make a sound while that knife plunged into my intestines.
They could take my body…but never my mind.
Darkness descended, and then the torches were lit.
The executioner stepped into the clearing, the metal plate over the bottom half of his face. Every single week, he took his time in selecting the victim, but I knew it was all just for show. They just wanted to scare the shit out of everyone before they got to the main attraction.
He started to do the same, walking down every aisle.
There was no doubt that I was the sacrificial lamb this week, and I decided to take the situation into my own hands. I decided to show some power, to be brave, to stand straight and tall instead of being dragged from my seat.
I chose to be fearless.
Silently interrupting him, I rose to my feet.
All the stares initially had been on him, but the women started to look at me. Row by row, they turned my way, no longer paying attention to him…but me.
I stepped out of the bench and moved to the edge of the table, standing tall, not shaking, not giving in to the fear.
Melanie started to sob. “No!”
The girls at her sides covered her mouth and silenced her.
The executioner stopped and stared at me.
I stared back. My body gave me the last thrust of adrenaline I would ever have. It gave me all the courage it could produce, because it knew this was the last time I would ever need it. My body did everything it could to make this easier, to let me die with as much honor as possible.
He remained still as he looked at me, his eyes filled with ferocity, as if my actions really pissed him off.
Good. “I’m the one you want, so cut the shit.”
All the girls turned to look at him, to witness his reaction.
His eyes narrowed at my audacity.
I started to move to the noose on the other end.
Bethany’s hand reached out for mine and gave it a squeeze. Tears burned in her eyes before they fell down her cheeks. “I’ll see you on the other side.”
I squeezed her back before I moved forward, wearing a mask of stoicism, staring at my killer like he should be afraid of me instead of the other way around.
He watched me walk toward the noose, like he’d never seen anything like this as long as he’d been here.
The guards didn’t say anything either.
Then he moved toward me, his cloak billowing behind him, his monstrous eyes promising an even more painful death than usual.
I took it one step further and stood on the crate that they would kick from underneath me. My hands moved to my back, and I stared at the executioner as he walked toward me. “I know where I’m going, and we all know where you’re going when it’s your time, which means our paths won’t cross again.” I pulled the saliva from my throat then spat down at him, hitting him right on the metal plate.
The spit dripped down until it fell to the earth.
He grabbed a piece of rope and moved behind me, securing my wrists in place, tying the rope unnecessarily tight just to hurt me.
I didn’t make a sound.
My heart rate was slow…for the first time since I got here.
Then he came back around and put the noose over my neck.
Melanie cried out again, and her friends silenced her the best they could.
I stared straight ahead, putting on a brave front, hoping to inspire these women into defiance.
Then he kicked the crate.
My body fell, and the noose constricted around my throat. My air supply was taken from me, and I swung slightly left and right. But my body hung limply, and I didn’t try to resist, even though it was the most unnatural thing to do.
Not to fight.
At some point, my lungs would heave and I would automatically struggle, but I’d probably be dead from his knife before then.
He unsheathed his knife from his pocket.
I could feel my face already turning blue.
I wanted it to end already.
I wanted the pain to start so it could end.
My eyes became blurry, and I could make out his withdrawn arm as he prepared to stab me.
Melanie wailed.
Then I heard a voice I thought I’d never hear again.
“Stop!”
The executioner lowered the knife and turned to Magnus.
“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice was loud and scathing, full of a rage so fierce that it couldn’t be subdued. I could feel the energy of his power, feel the way the guards responded to his outburst. “She’s our best worker. Why are you hanging the strongest woman on the line?”
“Because she’s a fucking cunt,” my current guard said. “That’s why.”
This rescue was about to be pointless because I was slipping out of consciousness.
Then my feet touched the crate…and I could breathe.
I gasped for air, like I’d died and come back to life, like I’d crashed and the doctors put those paddles against my chest and shocked me until I returned.
“She’s weak,” my guard continued. “She dropped a whole box of cocaine. She’s the slowest one on the line—”
“Because you starved her.” Magnus pulled out a knife then cut at the rope.
I fell forward, landing on the snow and earth. I coughed hard as I collapsed on the ground. A knife cut the ropes from around my wrists. I reached for my already swollen neck and continued to heave, yanking that air into my lungs so my heart rate would slow once the oxygen had been replenished in my blood.
“You starved her like you’ve done to the others.” He sheathed his knife but didn’t lean down to comfort me. He stood next to me, addressing the guard who now got in his face. “She’s my prisoner, and I know that she busts her ass every goddamn day. You poisoned her like you did to the others. We’ve all looked away up until this point, but no more. I won’t let one of the strongest lifters on the line die just because you can’t get a woman to suck your dick.”
The coughs subsided, and I lay there, just breathing, feeling the flames from one of the nearby torches.
The guard stared down Magnus before he backed off. “Then we’ll pick someone else—”
“There’s no Red Snow this week.” Magnus came over to me, and like last time I fell in the snow, he extended his gloved hand. “They’ve seen it enough times. They know how it goes. They’ve already seen the show.”
I stared at his hand for a few seconds before I placed my palm in his.
He squeezed it before he pulled me up, squeezed me the way Bethany squeezed me, like he wanted me to know he was there…that he was my friend.
12
Hero to One, Villain to All
When I made it back to the cabin, I immediately collapsed on the bed. I was already so weak to begin with since I hadn’t eaten in five days, but after the adrenaline rushed through me during that critical moment, I was even more exhausted. My throat ached like it’d been burned, and I still needed to cough here and there. “Thank you…” I’d thought my life was over. I’d thought my sister would have to listen to the sound of the knife stabbing into my body over and over. But at the last possible second, he returned.
Magnus walked out.
“Wait, where are you—”
The door shut and locked.
I stared at it, so disappointed that I didn’t know what to do with myself. I wasn’t sure what I expected, but at least a few words, a conversation…som
ething. He saved my life, and then he just disappeared.
I lay on the bed and stared at the spine of my book.
It was as if it were talking to me, and not from the words on the page.
I grabbed it and pulled it to my chest, holding it like a stuffed animal, gripping it like a lifeline. Tears welled a moment later, a catharsis that came from nowhere. Every time I complained that my food wasn’t right at a restaurant, every time I groaned when I had to walk to work in the rain, every time I was annoyed when my date showed up late…all of it felt so fucking stupid.
I never should have taken anything for granted.
Never.
Fifteen minutes later, the door opened again.
I immediately sat up and abruptly wiped my eyes with the back of my jacket, cleaning myself up, embarrassed that someone would witness a moment of weakness.
The woman who ordinarily delivered dinner came in even though it was earlier than usual. She brought a tray that was overstuffed with food, everything piled high on the plate and toppling over. There were two bottles of water there too.
The second I looked at it, my stomach rumbled.
It was the first time the woman actually looked at me. She was several decades older, as if she could be my mother, and her eyes softened like she pitied me, like she wanted to place her palm against my cheek and tell me everything would be alright. But a look was enough to convey that kindness.
She walked away.
“Thank you.” I pulled the tray into my lap and ate at the edge of the bed, almost too tired to even eat.
Then Magnus entered, wearing the same jacket and cloak like the other guards. But this time, he lowered his hood once the door was shut behind him, revealing his face because I already knew exactly what he looked like.
I stopped eating.
He carried a mug of hot cocoa to my nightstand. Then he dug into his pockets and pulled out a tube of medicine to apply to my neck, a couple pain pills, and a medical ice pack. His head turned slightly, and he glanced at the book lying on the bed. “You’re reading it.”
“I’ve already read it. But I’m reading it again…” It was my bible, my therapy, my hope.
“Eat.” He didn’t look right at me, never giving me direct eye contact even though his hood was down. His brown hair was a little longer this time than it was weeks ago. His jaw was covered with a shadow because he’d ignored the shave for a few days. There were thick veins up his neck, like his skin was so tight that the rivers popped out. He moved to the chair against the wall near the door and took a seat.
His presence gave me more comfort than the food in my lap, but I was starving and weak, so I grabbed the fork and continued to eat.
He leaned back into the wall, his knees apart, his eyes looking at nothing in particular. He had masculine angles to his face, noticeable cheekbones, and his brown eyes conveyed a constant sense of indifference. He’d shouted in that clearing just minutes ago, but now he didn’t seem angry.
I continued to eat, my eyes down most of the time, though I couldn’t help but to sneak a glance at him from time to time.
He was still, as if he were encumbered by his thoughts. He didn’t say anything to me, but he lingered like he might.
I liked having him there. After being terrorized by that asshole for two weeks, I didn’t want Magnus to leave my cabin. He was the only power that I had, the only weapon in my arsenal. “Did you just get here…?”
He nodded.
If he’d arrived just thirty seconds later, he would have seen my dead body hanging from that noose, my guts spilled into the snow.
“Where were you?”
“Paris.”
I steadied my fork and looked at him. “That’s where I live. Well, where I lived…”
He kept his gaze on the wall. Despite his visual indifference, he remained.
“What were you doing there?”
“Work.”
“You have two jobs?” I asked in surprise.
“It’s the same job, just in a different place.”
There was no way there was a labor camp in Paris, so he must do other things there. “Do you distribute the coke?”
He shifted his gaze to me, eyes cold. “Do you really care?”
I stilled at the look then turned back to my food. “I just… I guess I don’t. I just haven’t really talked to anyone for the last few weeks. It’s been really hard…with you gone.”
“And of course, the second I leave, you get yourself in the noose.”
My head snapped in his direction. “I did nothing. Your…” I couldn’t find the right word to describe that asshole. “Colleague decided to torture me the second you were gone. He treated me like a dog, made me beg for my food, told me I had to suck his dick or I would starve. I did nothing. I carry no blame.”
He shifted his gaze away.
“He targeted me, for whatever reason.”
“Because you’re difficult to break.” He shifted back to me. “So, it’s fun to try.”
That explanation disgusted me.
He removed the gloves from his hands and stuffed them into his pocket. Then his chin tilted down slightly, his eyes on the floor.
“Magnus?”
He wouldn’t meet my look.
“Don’t leave me again…”
He inhaled a breath before he lifted his chin and looked at me. The expression in his eyes was different this time, absorbent, as if he took time to digest the request.
“Don’t leave me with anyone else but you.” I didn’t realize how much better my life was with Magnus. And just how I took things for granted back in Paris, I did the same with him. This man wouldn’t hurt me. He wouldn’t force me. He even protected me…
“I’m not a saint—trust me on that.”
“But you’re not evil either—trust me on that.” I’d seen evil with that guard. I’d seen evil with the executioner. I’d seen evil all over this place. But with Magnus…not really. He was guilty due to the fact that he worked here, but he didn’t get off on torture.
He stared at me again, his brown eyes warm like coffee that I hadn’t had in weeks. There were tendrils of vapor in his eyes, like the steam that rose from the surface of a freshly brewed cup of coffee on a cold morning.
I finished the mound of food on my plate, the most I’d eaten in any sitting, and set it to the side for him to take away when he left. I grabbed the mug of cocoa instead and brought it to my lips, feeling the warmth return to all my veins. “Help me.”
He stared me down without blinking. “I already did.”
“I know, and I’m grateful, but…please.”
He knew exactly what I was asking for. He regarded me stoically, like my request had no effect on his heart. “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can—”
“I said, I can’t.” His voice turned sterner, hard like steel.
My lungs sucked in more air on their own, the devastation painful as if that knife really had pierced my belly. “I deserve more, and you know it.”
“Doesn’t matter what you deserve. A lot of people deserve a lot of things. It doesn’t mean they’re entitled to have them.”
He wasn’t a white knight in shining armor. He wasn’t a hero. He just wasn’t a villain. I didn’t understand his motivation for things, why he helped me in so many ways, but he wouldn’t help me in the way I needed most. “Please.”
“I’ve done a lot for you. The only thing I should be hearing is your gratitude.”
“And I am grateful—”
He abruptly got to his feet and headed to the door.
“Wait. Please.”
He sighed loudly, like he hated himself for turning back to me. “I’ve got to deal with the aftermath of all this, while you sit here and sleep soundly tonight. I’ve got to justify my actions and somehow make it convincing, because a lot of women have been hung before you, women I’ve guarded, and I didn’t do a damn thing.” His brown eyes burned into mine, like the brown trees of a forest on fire
.
My palms squeezed the mug between my hands, the cocoa still warm but the marshmallows dissolved. “Why? Why did you help me?”
He stared me down, and it was obvious I wouldn’t get an answer.
“I’m going to get out of here whether you help me or not. But if you help me, I’m far more likely—”
“You won’t make it.” He dropped his hand from the knob and faced me. “The trip by wagon to get here is seven hours—and that’s if you know the way. You need to get it through your fucking head that there is no escape from this place—”
“I heard a bell.” I got to my feet and faced him, the mug still in my hands. “A church bell. I heard it on the wind… I know I did.”
He was still, his look cold.
“Tell me where it came from—”
“The wind likes to play tricks, especially in a place like this. Don’t put all your faith in a sound you may or may not have heard—”
“I heard it.”
He clenched his jaw tightly, like he was annoyed with this conversation.
“If you tell me the way, draw me a sketch—”
“They will hunt you down so goddamn fast, especially down the road they’ve trekked for years. Even on horseback, at a full sprint, you won’t make it. You can leave in the middle of the night, and it still wouldn’t make a difference. Do you understand what I’m saying? There’s nothing I can do for you.”
“You can tell me another way. Somewhere through the wilderness where it’ll be hard to find me—”
“You need to stop.” He raised his hand and regarded me coldly. Then he dropped his hand and pulled on his black gloves like he was about to depart. “There is no escape from this place. None.” He pulled up the hood to his cloak and grabbed the doorknob.
“If you won’t help me, please help my sister.”
He didn’t open the door, but he didn’t turn back to me either.
“This man came to the camp. I think he’s the boss, because he doesn’t wear your uniform and he doesn’t hide his face…”
He slowly turned back to me, but he didn’t pull down the hood again.
“They moved my sister out of her cabin. I think he took her. I think he’s…” I couldn’t finish the sentence. “If you won’t help me escape, then help me get her out of there. Help me get her away from him.”
