Lord of London Town - Tillie Cole Page 0,79

the contract when they joined the firm. They broke it. They invited their own deaths.”

This was the world he lived in, a world I thought existed only in nightmares. In truth, it was at all of our doorsteps, just waiting to catch us off guard and drag us down to their fucked-up level. I had lived a “normal” life, and yet I’d found myself at the mercy of traffickers. Evil waited for any opportunity to sink in its claws. At least in Arthur’s cruel kingdom, there was some semblance of code and honour.

I knew something depraved must have burrowed its way into my soul when I realised I yearned to see the men who had murdered my family on the end of Arthur’s blood-soiled sword. I craved to see them beg at his feet for mercy and be prescribed pain and agony instead.

I heard a door shut. Casting my eyes around the warehouse, I realised we were all alone. Arthur still hadn’t moved. He still stood with a cigarette balancing on his bottom lip, his muscles ripped and shredded from the fights, his skin smothered in cooling blood.

And he was still watching me. He was waiting for what I would do.

This is it, I thought as I got to my feet. The choice. The decision I had to make. Arthur or my old life.

There was no contest.

I walked to the stairs that led down to the pit. Arthur scanned me the entire way down. I saw myself in his glasses as I approached, not even flinching when my stiletto heels landed on the pit’s sandy floor and the coppery stench of blood and cigarette smoke permeated the air.

The pit seemed much bigger when I was standing inside it. The table of weapons was beside me. I ran my hand along the weapons, most of which I had never seen before. It was like something from the Grand Inquisitor’s torture chamber.

I circled the pit, Arthur tracking my every move.

Finally, I drew to a stop in front of him. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out the ivory queen piece from his chessboard. I had taken it last night when he had left the study. After he had provoked me and I had provoked him right back, setting off tonight’s chain of events. The smudge from the cigarette still stained my queen’s chest.

I took the cigarette hanging from Arthur’s mouth, put it between my lips and took a long, drawn-out drag. The smoke filled my lungs and I tasted Arthur on my tongue. I blew the smoke into his face. Then I placed the queen at the base of Arthur’s throat.

Fixing my gaze on his, I dragged her down through the thick layer of blood on his skin, sullying her remaining cleanliness. Smearing the evidence of death and torture on her smooth, polished surface.

I stopped when I reached the waistband of his trousers. They had dropped low on his hips, the V leading to his prominent cock, a perfect gutter for the blood and sweat that dripped down his body.

Stepping closer, so close that I could feel the blazing heat pulsing from his skin, I tucked the queen into his trouser pocket, his hard cock brushing against my hand as I did. I released the queen, then wrapped my hands around his length through the fine material and gave him a slow, hard stroke before pulling my hand away.

I finished the cigarette, blowing the smoke over Arthur’s face one last time before flicking the butt to the floor. Arthur’s jaw clenched, then he placed his hand around my throat and pushed me back a few feet until my back slammed against the wall.

His eyes were wild and his nostrils flared. He was breathing hard, pants ripping between his lips, yet the hold on my throat was not tight, just a placeholder, a way to keep me still and obedient as he exerted his dominance. Arthur raised the sword he still held and placed the tip at my throat, above the hand that held me in place.

“Are you scared?” he asked, his voice dropping an octave. The low light in the pit glimmered off the few remaining slivers of clean steel on the sword’s blade.

“No,” I said, nothing but truth in my response. “You won’t hurt me.”

“Are you sure about that? I could kill you,” he said, pressing the tip harder against my skin. I could feel its sharpness, how easily it could slit my throat, pierce through my flesh.

“You won’t,” I said,

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