The Claimed: Rashika's Resistance

Chapter 17: The Hideaway

As soon as Denavin walked out the door, the hint of softness in Izra's eyes vanished. Raw power still flowed from her heaving chest, and blood dripped from her knuckles, but she gave her next order with the practiced calm of a priest orchestrating a ceremony.

"Remove the binds and gag."

Plu gave a strangled gulp and nudged one heel back, but Ru scrambled toward me and loosened the rope from my wrists. I drew my arms in front of me, wincing at the splitting pain as the motion drew the skin on my back tight. Blood trickled from my shoulder down my spine, hot and then cold.

Ru shuffled in front of me and crouched to draw the gag from my mouth. She shared Plu's stocky, muscular physique and blindingly pale skin, but where Plu's hair hung in greasy blonde strands, Ru shaved hers almost to the scalp under her earline and yanked the top part into a tight ponytail. Ru swung up to her feet and spun to face Izra.

"Izra, we didn't know you... Denavin swore this was your order."

"I know." The austere voice gave away nothing. "Ru, go fetch some hot water, bandages, and alcohol. Plu, bring Zander here."

Both sisters nodded and murmured unintelligible words as they scurried toward the door. When the door clicked shut behind them, I lifted my eyes to meet Izra's. Her gaze pinned me like heavy cuffs, and the cold, dank room suddenly grew hot — charged by the electric pulse between us. My gaze flicked down to her blood dripping from her mutilated still-clenched knuckles and then dropped to her motionless feet. Half-formed words battled for dominance in the chaotic warfield of my mind. Should I thank her? Apologize?

What finally emerged was neither.

"You shouldn't have sent Denavin away just for me."

Her feet remained motionless, but a slight hitch in her breath betrayed some reaction. "Oh, you think I did that just for you? You really still think I still care about you that much?"

Though Denavin had said basically the same words, my heart clenched differently this time, sharper than the relentless throb of my shoulder. "No. No, I just... she knows too much."

"She does." A quiet, resigned agreement. "I'll visit her tomorrow... smooth things over. I've done it before, and I can do it again."

"Smooth things over," I repeated, inexplicably bothered by this cool admission. "And how will you do that?"

"However she wants me to."

Her voice remained calm, but I thought I heard an undercurrent of dark bitterness. Unease tapped my spine as I reevaluated my first memory of seeing them together. Though Izra had emanated such confidence, I remembered Denavin's hand clamping over Izra's forearm, and Izra avoiding her gaze. I want to see her crawl, Denavin had said. But that was about me, an enemy who had betrayed them. Even if Izra had lashed out in the heat of the moment, Denavin would not retaliate harshly... would she?

After a moment of silence, Izra spoke once more, a bit unbalanced.

"You are... it's just your back, right? She didn't..."

I nodded, eyes still not moving from her feet. Stockings and soft trousers, I registered for the first time. "It's just my back."

Her stocking feet padded the dirt as she shifted and slipped toward the door. When her hand closed over the door handle, panic surged up in my chest. In just a moment, I would be alone again. Alone to remember the slow slice of the blade through my back and to contemplate the bleak future ahead. Alone to remember Pim's fate and to imagine Rona's.

"Izra, wait."

She froze, blood seeping through the cracks of her fingers to wet the door handle. I rolled words over on my tongue, but the plea that clawed my chest was nonsensical and unacceptable.