Page 10 of Saved By The King's Gamma

“I won’t harm you; I am here to help,” I reassure him.

“My brother, please help my brother,” he whimpers, flinching away as I break the front door of his cage open. Taking a step closer, I extend my hand toward him.

“Who put you in here? Was it Katrina? I promise I won’t let them harm you,” I say, removing my jacket and draping it around his emaciated frame. He hesitates for a moment before finally placing his hand in mine, allowing me to pull him out of the cramped enclosure.

“How old are you?” I ask softly.

“Eight, sir,” he replies meekly. Nodding in understanding, I notice his bare feet and swiftly scoop him into my arms.

“So was it Katrina?”

“No, she tried to help me.”

“Who brought you out here, then? Daley couldn’t have. She wouldn’t have got down the back steps.”

“The butcher did, sir,” he says as he stares at me, his entire body trembling.

“Come on, you and your brother are coming home with me; I won’t hurt you, but I need you to come inside where it is warm; Liam is inside. You will like Liam; he is making pancakes,” I tell him.

I carry him inside before stepping into the kitchen.

“Where’s Daley?” I inquire, noting her absence and Liam turns to face me, his eyes take in the boy, but he says nothing about his state.

“She went to get more flour,” Liam informs me, offering a sly wink.

I smirk, taking Logan to the living room, where I wrap him in the warmth of a blanket retrieved from the couch. Returning outside, I gather firewood and stoke all the fireplaces, trying to get some heat flowing throughout the space. The aroma of pancakes wafts through the air. Just as I finish setting up the living room fireplace, a woman who must be Katrina walks in, her presence announced by a sniff of the air. She glances at me nervously, her gaze fixating on my face.

“Who are you?” she inquires, her voice tinged with apprehension. Catching a whiff of her fear, I glance at her.

“I’m Gannon. Liam is out there. I assume you’re Katrina?” I respond.

She nods in confirmation as I set the fire poker down.

“Where’s Mrs. Daley?” she asks nervously.

“In the basement, getting flour for the pancakes,” I inform her, prompting a flicker of concern to cross her features. She opens her mouth to speak, but abruptly halts upon spotting Logan by the fire, causing her eyes to widen with surprise. Rushing toward him, she attempts to grab both him and Oliver. Instinctively, I reach out and grasp her arm.

“I won’t harm them; I’m not like Daley,” she assures me firmly, I release my grip. She hurriedly tends to the boys. Letting out a sigh, I make my way toward the door.

“Assist Liam in feeding the children; consider yourself promoted to headmistress,” I instruct Katrina, receiving a nod of acknowledgment from her. As I stride toward the kitchen, the anguished groans and cries emanating from the basement grow louder.

“Do you need any help?” Liam offers, his body covered in a dusting of flour and pancake batter covering his hands.

“Nope,” I reply curtly, seizing the knives from the counter before swinging open the basement door. The sound of the radio suddenly fills the kitchen as Liam switches it on, music blaring from its speakers.

Descending the stairs, I discover Mrs. Daley sprawled on the ground, desperately attempting to crawl away. Her legs tangled in the wheelchair, she claws at the floor in a futile attempt to escape.

“Change of plans. I want to hear you scream,” I proclaim, my voice dripping with venom. Reaching down, I seize her hair and yanking her head back. “And trust me, you will scream,” I snarl, relishing the fear in her gaze.

7

Liam had to repeatedly crank the volume to drown out the shrill cries emanating from the basement. Mrs. Daley’s blood-curdling screams reverberated around the dimly lit space.

Eventually, her cries ceased altogether, replaced by a ghastly silence. The stone floor is now a bright canvas, painted with the remnants of her life. The scent of raw meat permeates the air, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh blood. Her body is bloody and lifeless, having skinned the bitch alive. Oh, how I love hearing them scream. Although I could have gone without the erection it gave me.

Washing my hands in the filthy sink, I dry them on a hessian bag I find before staring at the old hag’s pelt hanging on a hook from the ceiling, admiring my handiwork. I head for the stairs with a shrug. The rickety old steps creak under my weight as I climb them. Opening the door, I shake my head when I see Liam shaking his ass and dancing to the music he has blaring loudly. Liam is still wearing his floral apron, only now he is doing the dishes.

Katrina comes into the kitchen with another pile of plates clutched in her hands, a tea towel draped over her shoulder. She gives me a wary look. She hesitates for a second, then hurries past me toward the small kitchen. She sets the plates on the bench beside Liam. He grabs her hand and twirls her around, pulling her to dance with him, tugging her body flush against his.

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