Page 96 of Wrath of the Fae

‘Ivan Walker is nothing compared to the King and his men,’ she whispers.

Of all the things I ever expected her to say, that’s the last.

She rushes close and grabs my shoulder. ‘You have to go.’

‘With you. I’m taking you all.’

She shakes her head.

‘I can’t. The vow. The others.’

The bathroom window breaks and a foot comes through the glass.

‘Fuck me,’ Lucca gasps, removing his helmet and wincing. ‘This uniform is pinching me in all the wrong places.’ His wings fade as he comes straight to me, pushing past Rhea to plant a big kiss on my forehead before wincing at the bruises and cuts. ‘Battered but alive. Good job, Pup.’ He turns to Rhea, and his smile falls. ‘Oh, yay. You’re alive too,’ he drawls.

I whack him, but Rhea throws her arms around him and sobs. Lucca stares at me, not knowing what he expected but certainly not that.

‘I’m so glad to see you,’ she weeps in his neck before kissing him on the cheek. ‘Reid said he got you out, but part of me thought you were long dead!’

Lucca looks at me. I see the realisation of her words.

Reid did get him out.

‘Just you two?’ He looks around the room as if expecting to see someone else lurking.

‘Just us,’ I reply. ‘What are you wearing? Your armour has boobs.’

‘I killed that female soldier that came after me and took her uniform,’ he says, rearranging his crotch area. ‘She’s petit.’ He then cups the breasts and smirks. ‘I could get used to these, though. I think they suit me.’

There’s a booming laugh from beyond the bedroom and the sound of someone opening the door.

‘Stay!’ Rhea mouths to us before taking a deep breath and entering her bedroom.

Lucca and I stay hidden.

‘Food,’ grunts a man. A tray clatters to the floor. ‘Say thank you.’

‘Thank you,’ Rhea replies in a timid voice.

‘Eat it then.’

‘I’m not hungry-’

‘Eat the food.’

‘It’s on the floor,’ Rhea says. ‘I don’t-’

‘Eat it, or I’ll add you to the entertainment tonight.’

The room falls silent as Lucca and I carefully peek through the gap in the door.

Rhea lowers herself and starts picking at the scraps littered all over the floor. A soldier stands over her and crushes a piece of bread under his boot before kicking it to her. The bread is covered in mud and dirt, but she picks it up and places it in her mouth. Lucca grabs my arm as I move and shakes his head, directing me to look at the door. There are two others there, watching.

‘See you later,’ the soldier laughs, leaving with the others. All of whom snort their amusement.

Lucca and I step out as she spits the food back onto the floor and turns to face us, still on her knees.

‘You can’t stay here,’ I insist.

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