Page 90

He was still considering whether to eat it—whether he could swallow his pride along with the bread—when the screech of hinges announced the opening of their cell door.

But this wasn’t on schedule. They’d already had both feedings for the day. Otherwise, the guards had never bothered them.

This time, it wasn’t just the usual solitary guard. Two men stepped through the doorway, their bulk filling the narrow room.

They completely ignored Gideon, stepping past him as if he weren’t even there. Instead, they moved directly toward Leila, their forms towering over her chained figure.

She looked so tiny in comparison that she shrank even further, pressing herself against the wall as they approached.

Every muscle in Gideon’s body tensed, coiling like a spring ready to explode into action. His hands clenched into fists, and he felt his heart rate spike.

But he couldn’t do anything. The iron shackles around his wrists held him fast to the stone floor, rendering him as helpless as a chained dog.

“The Cardinal said not to do you in,” one of the men said to Leila, his voice carrying the casual tone of someone discussing the weather.

Good to know.

“But he ain’t said naught ’bout not touchin’ ye,” the man continued. There was something hungry and predatory in his voice that made Gideon’s skin crawl. “Or makin’ ye touch us.”

The implication was crystal clear, sending a surge of murderous fury through Gideon.

“Three bloody days we been watchin’ ye, and for what?” the first man said, his outline moving closer to Leila in the darkness. “Yer kind knows how to serve. Let’s see how good ye really are.”

The sounds that followed were unmistakable—the rustle of fabric, the clink of a belt being undone, the whisper of trousers being pulled down.

The second man turned toward Gideon, and even in the dim light, his sneer was clearly visible. His voice dripped with venom as he said, “An’ you can watch.”

* * *

Leila froze in absolute horror as the man’s words sank in. The crude implications crashed over her in waves, and for a terrifying moment, she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. She could do nothing but stare at the approaching threat.

Instinctively, she pressed herself back against the cold stone wall, as if she could disappear into it entirely. The rough surface scraped against her shoulders through the thin fabric of her shirt, but she barely registered the discomfort. Her heart hammered against her ribs so violently that she was certain everyone in the cell could hear it.

Without thinking, she threw a brief, panicked glance toward Gideon across the cell. For just a moment, some desperate part of her hoped—prayed—that despite everything he’d said and thought of her, he might—

She caught herself immediately, forcing her expression back to neutral.

She couldn’t afford to expect a rescue. Even if Gideon could save her, he had made his position crystal clear: he wouldn’t.

There was nothing between them but loathing and mistrust. She was on her own, as she’d always been.

And even if he hadn’t loathed her, he couldn’t help her if he tried. He was shackled, just as helpless as she was.

She wouldn’t give these animals the satisfaction of seeing her panic, her fear, her terror. She’d learned long ago that showing weakness only made predators more vicious.

The familiar weight of resignation settled over her. She would do what was required of her, just as she always had.

The goal was to stay alive.

The goal was to somehow reach Emir, to see her little brother again, to keep him safe from the horrors that had claimed her.

If she died here, fighting these men in this wretched cell, who would take care of him? Who would ensure that the same fate that had befallen her would never touch her innocent little brother?

The thought of Emir alone and defenseless gave her the strength she needed to prepare for what was coming.

So she forced herself to move, rising slowly to her knees on the filthy stone floor. Her legs trembled, and she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from whimpering… crying… shouting.

She watched with growing revulsion as the man began lowering his trousers to his hips, revealing hairy, unwashed thighs, and the sight of him touching himself with obvious anticipation made her stomach lurch.