Page 14 of Retribution
He called out a verbal command and the door opened. He strode inside and the door immediately closed behind him, locking them in together. The room no longer felt quite as large as it had moments ago. General Zamek’s presence dominated the space, making her feel a bit claustrophobic, and she found herself struggling to take in air. He stood tall before her with an aura of cruel intent surrounding him, looking like the physical manifestation of wrath itself.
“Come here, human.” His deep voice reverberated through her.
She ought to obey him, but her legs wouldn’t budge. She stared at him as a full body tremble descended upon her.
“Please,” she whispered. “I-I need a moment.”
He lifted an eyebrow at her. “A moment? I’ve left you alone for eight days and now you suddenly need a moment?”
Only eight days? Apparently, she’d counted wrong.
She opened her mouth to respond but couldn’t form a single word, as her mouth had gone too dry. She pressed her lips together and pushed herself out of the corner, walking around the bed on shaky legs.
She glanced up and once again peered into General Zamek’s dark eyes. He looked more forbidding than he had in the courtroom. There was something about his manner today that made her blood run cold.
Standing before him, she lowered her head and awaited his next command. Her shaking increased when he started to circle her, and she felt the heat of his gaze burning into her.
She swallowed hard and prayed this ended quickly, though she had a bad feeling he meant to drag her torment out.
His next words shocked her to her very core.
“Remove your clothing. All of it.” He came to stand before her and gave her a dark but expectant look. “When I make you bleed, I want to see it.”
“Please. Please don’t...” Her voice trailed off, and she brought her arms up and hugged herself as a sense of helplessness fell over her.
“Remove your clothing,” he snapped. His eyes flashed with barely contained fury and his grip tightened on the strap.
“Th-this wo-won’t bring her ba-back,” she stammered. “Please have mercy.”
He closed the space between them and poked her stomach hard. She glanced down to see what he was doing. “One.” He poked her again. “Two.” Another poke. He continued, poking a different spot on her stomach as he counted, until he reached, “Ten.”
Realization dawned.Ten. Michael had stabbed Shessema in the stomachten times. She felt sick.
“Please know how sorry I am. But you must understand—I wasn’t the one who hurt her,” Layla whispered, “and I don’t condone what Michael did. Will beating me really make you feel better?”
His eyes flashed and his nostrils flared. His gaze dropped to her shirt. A second later, he grabbed the neckline and ripped the fabric from her body, shredding the garment.
“No!” she cried, jumping back. She scrambled around the bed, back to her corner, where for some absurd reason she felt safest, and tried to cover her nudity. She was wearing a bra, but still, she didn’t want to take any of her clothes off around him.
When her eyes landed on the remnants of her shirt on the floor, she almost burst into tears. She didn’t have a replacement and she doubted he would provide one. Maybe she ought to just remove the rest of her clothing, lest he rip her pants and undergarments off her body too. Given his strength, she knew he wouldn’t find it a challenge.
He rounded the bed, trapping her in the corner. “You will regret your disobedience,human, I assure you.”
“My name is Layla,” she said. “I’m a fucking person, and I didn’t have any part in what happened to your wife. This is wrong. Can’t you see how wrong this is?”
To her astonishment, his expression wavered. For a second or two, something akin to remorse shone in his dark eyes. But anger and determination soon fell back into place, and all traces of possible regret vanished. His face hardened.
“Remove your clothes,” he said, “or I will tear them from your body.”
A sense of betrayal filled her, though it was completely ludicrous. Somehow, she’d thought she might get through to him. She’d also been lulled into a false sense of security since he’d left her alone for so long. Being kept in the nicest cell in the brig had also given her hope that maybe, just maybe, General Zamek wasn’t as cruel as she’d originally thought.
“Very well,” she whispered as her hands moved to the front of her pants. She removed her pants and placed them on the bed. She trembled as she reached around to unhook her bra, then allowed the undergarment to slide off her arms to join her pants on the bed. Keeping her gaze low—she couldn’t bear to look at the general right now—she stepped out of her panties and tossed them aside.
Completely naked, she stood cowering in the corner. She felt vulnerable, stripped of her defenses. He held all the power, and she couldn’t stop him. She would have to endure.
She felt the wet warmth of her tears coating her face. She couldn’t help it, though she wished she could face General Zamek with bravery and take this beating without screaming out in pain. She didn’t want to give him the satisfaction, but she suspected more tears would soon follow and she wouldn’t manage to remain quiet. He would witness her sorrow and hear it. And that’s exactly why he was doing this—because he was a monster who wished to see her suffering.
He stepped closer, so near she could feel the heat of his body. She sucked in a shaky breath, once again praying this ended quickly.
