Page 21 of Shadow

Still, there was something different inside the world of Shadow Warriors, something I hadn’t felt in years: safety. At the Federation, fear had been a constant companion. We had lived under the shadow of hellhounds breaking through our defenses and slaughtering us, or worse, losing our jobs and being shipped to the front lines to die. Dread followed me like a second shadow, never letting up. But here? Here, it felt somehow different.King, even with the threats, radiated protection. Not for me specifically, but his presence kept the true monsters at bay.

I stretched out on the bed, my long legs blissfully free to sprawl without dangling over the edge. For a tall girl, those cots at the Federation had been a literal pain in the back. I spread my arms wide, grateful no one could see me. I’d have looked like a flailing idiot to anyone watching. The thought made me laugh. First a chuckle, then a full-blown laugh that echoed through the room like I had lost my mind.

I survived that damn hot room, and maybe, just maybe, I’d survive the night too. I pulled the soft pillow closer, wrapping it around me like a shield, and rolled onto my side. I was doing something that mattered. Something good. And with that rare thought of purpose, I drifted into sleep.

∞∞∞

For five days, I was left to cool my recently unheeled feet. If my guards hadn’t dragged me through endless corridors for exercise or allowed brief moments on an outside patio, I would’ve lost my mind. Every attempt to request an audience with King was met with blank stares and outright silence. I may as well have been invisible. By the fifth night, my frustration peaked. Before falling asleep, I occupied my thoughts with an ever-growing list of creative ways to kill King. It was surprisingly therapeutic.

Morning light filtered through the thin curtains, waking me with its soft glow. A sharp knock at the door jolted me further awake, and I instinctively rolled over, pulling the blanket up to my chin like a scared kid hiding from the bogeyman. “Come in,” I said, forcing my voice to sound stronger than I felt.

When the door swung open, I recognized the driver who had shoved me into the green room to bake. He stood in the doorway, completely unaffected by his actions. Shame or regret? Nowhere to be found. Not that I had expected anything else from a Shadow Warrior.

“King says you need to come to breakfast. Now,” he barked, his voice grating on my sleepy nerves. Without sparing me a glance, he slammed the door behind him.

So, when King said jump, you jumped. Typical. Except I didn’t feel like jumping. Not yet, at least. If that was stupid of me, so be it. I was taking a shower and brushing my teeth before setting foot in the beastly den.

The toothpaste was a revelation, leagues better than the rationed sawdust the Federation had passed off as dental hygiene. I savored the minty taste before taking my time dressing in the provided clothes: soft jeans, a T-shirt, socks, and running shoes. Not that I planned to run. Knowing my coordination, I’d trip over my own feet and face-plant before I made it three steps.

I was just lacing up my second shoe when the door flew open without so much as a knock.

Ah, shit.

The driver’s lips pressed into a firm line, and his hard eyes made it clear he wasn’t pleased. “I’m in enough trouble because of you,” he grumbled, stalking toward me.

Before I could respond, I was hoisted off my feet and slung upside down over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. If you’ve never traveled this way, take my advice. Don’t. It wasn’t charming or romantic; it was awkward and uncomfortable.

“Hey!” I shouted, pounding my fists against his back as he strode out of the room.

The guards stationed outside my door fell into step behind us, their tight expressions leaving no doubt they wouldn’tbe coming to my rescue. Realizing the futility of my efforts, I went limp, letting my arms dangle while I watched the Spanish tile floor blur past.

The driver finally set me down. Not gently, but enough that I regained my footing without falling.

Anger flared, and before I could think better of it, I swung at him. To my surprise, my fist connected with the side of his jaw. Not that it mattered. He barely flinched. If anything, my effort probably felt like a gnat landing on him. Without a word or even a glance, he turned and strode out, leaving me to nurse my throbbing hand and fume at his retreating back.

I spun toward King, ready to unleash my fury, but the words caught in my throat when I saw the spread of food on the table. My anger fizzled as quickly as it had come.

The breakfast trays they had brought to my room so far had been simple: oatmeal and fresh fruit. I hadn’t complained. Before the war, I was vegetarian, and it was the kind of food I had missed. It had tasted better than anything I’d had in ages.

But this? It was a feast I couldn’t have dreamed I wanted. Fluffy scrambled eggs, golden-brown toast, a pitcher of orange juice, and, oh my God, bacon. Any thoughts of holding onto my vegetarianism flew out the window. It was the smell, something I had never enjoyed before, but now, I could’ve eaten an entire roasted pig. Something was seriously wrong with me, and I didn’t care. My nose caught up to my eyes, and the smoky, savory aroma had my stomach letting out an unladylike growl. I instinctively placed a hand over my belly, and King’s gaze followed the movement.

“I ate last night,” I mumbled, trying to sound nonchalant, “so I shouldn’t be this hungry. But is that bacon? Like, actual animal bacon?” My mouth weirdly watered at the thought. Bacon had been the first meat I tasted after realizing I had to abandon my vegetarian ways, and it was only twice. The memoryof its salty, crispy perfection flooded back, and I couldn’t help but stare.

King kicked a chair out with his foot and nodded toward it. There was no mistaking the command, so I sat down, grabbing a piece of bacon before my butt even touched the seat.

“Oh. My. God,” I said, savoring the smoky, salty flavor as I chewed. “It’s real bacon.”

King didn’t respond immediately, but his eyes glinted with something unreadable. Finally, he spoke. “I’ll talk to Boot about carrying you. Unless you asked him to?”

The grumble in his voice was obvious, but I was too busy snagging another slice of bacon to care. “So, you have pigs?” I asked, trying to sound casual. His gaze sharpened, and I realized I might have touched a nerve. I held up my hands, one of which was now bacon-greased. “If the subject of pigs is taboo, I’ll pretend this is fake meat.” I dragged a finger across my chest in an exaggerated gesture. “Cross my heart and hope to die. I won’t tell the Federation, as long as I can have some eggs and toast to go with it.”

His lips twitched, barely, but it was enough to hint at a smile.

“Do you always think about food?”

I grinned, scooping some eggs onto my plate and grabbing two pieces of toast. “Did you, when you worked for our government?”

For a moment, he said nothing, and I swore that tiny curve of his lips almost became a full smile.

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