A pair of red shoes comes into view, and I drop my arms to see the girl from one table over. “Are you okay?”
There’s so much kindness in her voice, so much sincerity, that tears begin to roll down my face. I don’t know how to answer. I want to tell her no. No, I’m not okay. I’m being held against my will. I’m being abused, starved, and beaten. But I’m so very afraid of what will happen if I open my mouth.
The girl nods.
“We are watching you, and my Klan is watching them,” she whispers, keeping her voice low. “I want to help. Here.” The girl hands me a piece of alien bread, still warm from her plate. “Stay strong. They aren’t all like this.” Then, with a kind smile, she walks away.
Now I’m left with indecisions. Should I eat the bread and risk them catching me, or should I toss it away like it never happened? Feverish desire for food consumes me, and I make the wrong decision, biting off a huge chunk of bread. I stifle the moan that wants to escape as I chew. My hunger is so fierce that I don’t even taste it, just trying to wolf it down as fast as I can before Gryme notices.
The glint of another golden tail between their legs makes me feel like I have more time. Maybe there are ten kings all walking down in a row. Taking the risk, I chew off another bite, but a moment later, I’m caught.
“What the vekk do you think you’re doing, droggov?” Gurk whispers, sinking down to my level. I feel the colour drain from my face, the food turning to ash in my mouth. His one, red eye narrows on the food, then focuses back on my face. “Did we say you could eat?”
“No, but—”
“And you thought you could blatantly disobey?”
“Well, no, but—”
“This is unacceptable.” Gurk snatches the bread from my hand and stands, then he tosses it to the ground and crushes it with his dirty boot. “You’ll pay for this, droggov. I’m going to make you wish you’d never been born.”
Seven
Harlow
The kings disappear, and in the horde of bodies in their wake, I’m dragged away from the woman who offered me food. I hear a scuffle, and when I glance back, I see her searching the crowd for me with her Klan. I daren’t call out, even as tears fall from my eyes. She was kind to me, so very kind. I hope she doesn’t blame herself.
I’m obviously not moving fast enough, because they yank on my leash again, and I stumble forward, my throat locking in a scream as I feel the spikes bite into my skin. Blood drips down between the spines and the material, making it chafe. I’m terrified as I’m dragged back through the city to the flying car. Once we get there, they launch me inside, and I tumble and roll until my back crashes against the vehicle’s wall, making me cry out when I feel something crack.
Probably a rib, I think almost numbly.
Curling into myself, not wanting to look at them, I breathe through the pain, but I feel their rancid breath waft over me as someone crouches behind me. “You should have done as you were told, human,” he snaps nastily.
A laugh sounds behind me. “This will be fun.”
“Teach the vekking droggov where it belongs!” one of them snarls, as we start to move, no doubt heading back to the house. With each passing minute, more panic settles into my bones, making it hard to breathe, to think. My eyes blur, and my ears ring as I try to keep the terror attack at bay.
This is going to be bad, I know it.
Can I survive it?
Do I even want to?
They chatter amongst themselves, getting worked up. I can feel their anger, aggression, and hatred aimed at me. They’re holding back for now, but I know once we get to the house, all bets are off. They might finally kill me…but that’s wishful thinking. I know they need me alive…but they clearly don’t care what state I’m in. It would be easy for them to go too far. I almost died of hypothermia already… It would be so much easier to just die…
To just let them kill me.
There would be no more pain, no more suffering. No more aching pit in my stomach from starvation. My head goes to a dark place as I wait for us to land. Normally, I