Page 3 of Blood Weaver
The whistle blew louder now that I was near, and my ears popped from the frequency. When I didn’t find Selene in all the chaos around me, I hurried to the second floor where the girls entertained privately, taking the stairs two at a time. Running and pushing my way past Crimson Clan members and pleasure house girls, I kicked open Selene’s door and stormed inside. My stomach dropped when I found her pinned down by three Crimson Clan members.
Selene wasn’t the type to cry. Her unfortunate life was already filled with so many horrors, she was practically a stone wall. But in that moment, her eyes glistened with unshed tears and fear.
Her vulnerable state kicked me into action as I ran toward them, drawing upon the energy within me. The room grew cold and the candles flickered out as darkness closed in. A force, invisible but palpable, radiated from me, pushing against everything in the room. The heavy wooden furniture groanedand slid, and the ornate tapestries flapped wildly in a turbulent wind. The three men pinning Selene were forced back, their grip releasing her as they struggled to maintain their footing.
The room was a maelstrom of raw power and chaos, and the very air seemed to shimmer and warp. I stood in the eye of this storm, my gaze locked onto Selene, ensuring her safety. As quickly as it started, the tempestuous energy receded, leaving the room in disarray.
Three men lay sprawled across the room, dazed and panting heavily. Selene, looking disheveled but otherwise unharmed, pushed herself up to a sitting position, her green eyes wide with a mix of relief and awe.
The energy that had surged through the room provided a momentary advantage, but it wouldn't last long. As Selene pushed to her feet, I positioned myself between her and the three Crimson Clan members who were regaining their senses and getting up.
The first one lunged at me, swinging a dagger. Relying on years of training and instinct, I sidestepped his assault, catching his wrist and using his momentum to send him crashing into a nearby wall. The impact was violent, causing plaster and wood to crack.
The second assailant was more cautious, circling me with a wary look in his crimson eyes. He was sizing me up, gauging my abilities. With a swift kick, I knocked the weapon from his hand, then closed the distance between us and delivered a series of strikes targeting his vulnerable points: the neck, kidneys, and knees. He stumbled back and gasped for breath.
The third, however, was the most skilled of them all. He advanced slowly, his eyes darting and analyzing my every move. We danced around the room, trading blows, each trying to find an opening in the other's defense. His movements were precise and calculated.
The size of Selene’s room was considerable, which allowed for this dance of death. Suddenly, with a feigned misstep, he lunged, trying to catch me off guard. But I saw through his ruse. Ducking under his swing, I grabbed his arm and pivoted on my heel, then used his own momentum to throw him to the ground. I quickly followed up with a swift kick to the head, rendering him unconscious.
I turned to Selene and sized her up and down to make sure she wasn’t hurt. Though bruises were starting to form on her wrists and neck, she seemed fine. “Are you okay?”
She nodded shakily but didn’t answer, still trying to compose herself. I was about to grab her and drag her out of this hell hole when Madam Rose waltzed in, looking furious.
Madam Rose was an imposing figure despite her middle-aged stature. Her raven-black hair, streaked with lines of silver, was pulled back into a severe bun, giving prominence to her sharp, hawk-like eyes. Every line and wrinkle on her face told a story of battles fought and won in the underbelly of Lomewood. Her lips, painted a deep shade of maroon, were set in a tight line of disapproval. Her silk robe, adorned with embroidered roses, flowed elegantly as she moved, barely making a whisper against the ornate rug. A thick gold necklace encircled her neck, reflecting the dim light and lending an almost regal aura.
She scanned the room silently, taking in the aftermath of the struggle. Her eyes settled on the unconscious Crimson Clan members before shifting to me, then to Selene. “What have you done?” she hissed, her voice dripping with venom.
“Protecting my friend,” I responded defiantly, standing between her and Selene. “It's more than what you've been doing. Isn’t she your most prized possession? Shouldn’tyoube protecting her?”
She narrowed her eyes and took a threatening step closer. “You've always been a thorn in my side, Leila. But this time, you've really outdone yourself.”
“Perhaps you should be more selective about the company you keep!” I shot back.
If Madam Rose had powers and wasn’t just a measly human, she would have killed me on the spot. I knew she wanted to. She probably dreamed about it every night. But alas, she couldn’t.
“Watch your words,” she gritted between her teeth, glancing slightly behind her back in case any of the Crimson Clan members overheard us.
I gently gripped Selene’s wrist without hurting her already bruised skin and dragged her behind me. “I’m taking her out of here,” I said. “You obviously don’t care what happens to your girls.”
“You’ll take her over my dead body!” she threatened.
“What seems to be the problem here?” a male voice boomed as he entered the room. His long hair, tattooed skin, and crimson eyes made it obvious he was a Crimson Clan member.
Madam Rose’s gaze swung to the newcomer and her body stiffened visibly. The room's energy intensified further as the weight of the situation pressed down on all of us.
The man was imposing, standing over six feet tall with a physique that was lean, but muscular. His presence filled the room with an undeniable aura. He was strikingly handsome, almost unfairly so. His strong jawline and sharp cheekbones lent him an aristocratic, regal look. Waves of jet-black hair cascaded back from his forehead, braided at the sides, stopping just short of his hips. Those crimson eyes, which would have been menacing on any other face, possessed a mischievous glint that hinted at a playful side, or perhaps a dangerous one, hidden beneath the surface.
His lips, full and shapely, curled into a smirk that could make anyone's heart flutter, albeit with a mixture of attraction and trepidation. Every feature of his face seemed perfectly crafted, as if he was the very embodiment of allure. The scars and tattoos that adorned his skin spoke of battles, wisdom, and experiences that only added depth to his beauty.
Even his posture was one of confident ease. The way he held himself, his every movement, suggested a deadly grace, like a predatory cat. When he spoke, his voice was deep and resonant, sending chills down the spine, not solely out of fear but also an inexplicable pull. There was something about him, an almost magnetic charm, that could draw someone in, despite the clear and evident danger that came with his affiliation to the Crimson Clan.
In any other situation, one could almost mistake him for a charming rogue or a misfit prince from a far-off land. But given the current circumstances, his beauty came with a foreboding sense of peril.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Madam Rose said hastily, waving off his concern. “Merely a personnel matter.”
The male looked from Madam Rose to his unconscious men on the floor, then to Selene, then me.
“That doesn’t seem to be the case, Madam. Why are my men unconscious?” He stepped further into the room to inspect the men on the floor.
