Page 70 of Enchantment of Silver and Sea
“I like your euphemisms.” He finished buttoning his pants and strode back to where I stood, still clutching my nightgown. “Almost makes you feel like you’re notabout to be captured and held hostage against your will by a bunch of grown men that feel the need to point their big, bad guns at one of their own defenseless citizens.”
At his words, Zander quickly scanned his fellow Enforcers then locked eyes with the two who were bringing up the rear. Their guns were, in fact, pointed at me. Without a word, they shifted so they were trained on Kieran instead.
“You don’t want to put on a shirt?” Zander asked flatly.
The tall Enforcer snorted. “I’m sure she”—he pointed in my direction—“would rather he didn’t.”
Zander’s answering expression had enough venom in it that theEnforcerclamped his mouth shut. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Kieran tense slightly. Zander’s protective attitude toward me wasn’t lost on him.
“My shirt is in the bathroom hanging over the edge of the tub,” Kieran said. He added, his tone saccharine, “If one of you would be so kind as to grab it for me.”
After a moment of hesitation, one of theEnforcerstoward the back rolled his eyes and stomped into the bathroom, returning with Kieran’s blood-stained shirt. He tossed it at his feet and seemed miffed when Kieran actually caught it.
Kieran shrugged the shirt over his head then slipped on his boots. “I think the lady would like some privacy,” he said without looking up.
I was still frozen in place.
“I think ‘the lady’ forfeited her right to privacy when she decided to harbor a Stranger in her home,” the round-faced Enforcer fired back. Zander glared at him, but unlike his comrades, the Enforcer pretended not to see it. He gestured to my clothes with his gun. “Hurry up.”
My body felt like it was moving of its own accord as I turned away from them. I slipped on my underwear and pulled my nightgown over my head. Pins and needles were making their way up my arms and legs.
I was going to pass out.
But before I had time even to faint, our wrists were bound with thick pieces of plastic, tight enough that it hurt. Zander refused to look at me as he tied mine.
We were ushered out of the apartment and into the hall. As we crossed through the open doorway, I realized we were stepping on my door. The crash from earlier had been theEnforcersbreaking it down.
Thankfully, none of my neighbors were gathered to witness the spectacle. I wondered if they had actually managed to sleep through my door being kicked in. More likely, they were pressed against the inside of their doors, watching through the peephole.
We went in the opposite direction of the main staircase, which I assumed was an attempt at discretion. The main staircase had multiple landings and was visible from different vantage points on all floors. We walked instead toward the less grandiose stairs at the other end of the hall which were intended to be an emergency exit. The tallEnforcerheld the door to the stairwell as we all passed through. We walked down the concrete stairs in silence, our footsteps echoing. When we reached the landing, the round-facedEnforcerheld the door this time. Then we were headed down the hall on the ground floor.
As we approached the foot of the main staircase, I wondered vaguely what the purpose was of bypassing it to begin with, if we were just going to circle back to it. Obviously, we were about to leave out the main entrance and head to theEnforcers’ headquarters in the city.
But right before we reached the landing, theEnforcerscame to a halt, stopping us with them. We were standing in front of an inconspicuous wooden door in a series of doors that led to rooms I had never been in before.
Zander ushered us inside, still refusing to make eye contact with me.
The room we entered was spacious, with plain white walls and diamond-patterned carpet. It was mostly empty, save for more Enforcers. They were standing in a semicircle around along table where five people sat. Kieran and I were led to folding chairs in front of the table, with Zander and his four colleagues taking positions behind us.
Once seated, I finally took in the faces across the table from me.
On the far left was a middle-aged woman with meticulously coiffed black hair, tawny skin, and a smile that didn’t quite meet her green eyes.
Next to her was a slight man of indeterminate age, with pale skin and equally pale eyes. His voluminous red hair was half-heartedly styled, with tufts sticking out in odd places.
Then came a man who appeared to be in his late fifties or early sixties, with white hair and kind brown eyes. He was handsome and polished, and something about his placement in the center of the group seemed to signal his importance.
Next to him was Cato. His dark eyes, always expressive, looked deeply pained.
And finally, seated at the end of the line, was another familiar face.
The person who used to cook us dinner several times a week after our parents died.
The man who patched our roof after a particularly bad storm, showed me how to play chess, and taught Irene how to do pull-ups.
The Enforcers’ Mentor.
Leon.
