Corruption

Chapter 10

I awoke with a start, my chest heaving as memories of the assault flooded my mind in chaotic fragments—his hands, the knife, the concrete. The fear still clung to my skin like smoke.

Sweat slicked my body, soaking through the fabric of my dress and into the thin cot beneath me. My hands darted down to my side. The wound was bandaged now—clean, tight, and firm. I exhaled shakily, a quiet prayer of thanks slipping past my lips. They hadn't let me bleed out in some back alley like a stray dog. A small mercy.

"I stitched your wound."

The low, rough voice made me jump.

My head snapped to the corner of the room, where Cardo sat with his back slightly hunched, cleaning the heavy arm cannon that rarely left his side. His attention stayed fixed on the weapon, but I could feel his awareness of me like heat on the back of my neck.

"You must be more careful," he muttered, tone unreadable. "Next time, I'll cauterize it."

My stomach turned. He wasn't joking. I nodded faintly, wiping the sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand, trying to slow the pounding in my chest.

"I thought you quite useless, princess," he continued, his voice like gravel against stone. "But now that it seems every criminal in the galaxy wants to get their hands on you... maybe you're not entirely worthless."

I bit the inside of my cheek, wounded by the words even though I knew better than to expect kindness. Useful, sure. As bait. As leverage. Never as a person.

Cardo rose to his feet, the size of him filling the room as he stalked toward me—slow, deliberate, like a predator that didn't need to rush. My breath caught.

"And," he added, eyes finally lifting to mine, "I'm sure I could think of other uses for you, if I really tried."

He stopped a foot from the cot, towering over me. His gaze flicked down my face, to the pulse at my throat, then back up. My skin prickled beneath his stare, a strange cocktail of fear and something else.

I swallowed. "Is that meant to scare me?"

His lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. "No. If I wanted to scare you, you'd know."

His gloved hand reached out slowly—not threatening, but not gentle either. He brushed a damp strand of hair from my cheek, then let his knuckles trail down the side of my face, just over the scar. I stiffened, unsure if I should lean into the touch or flinch away.

"I was rough with you. During the mission," he said. "Dragged you too hard. Didn't think you'd actually tear open like that."

I blinked. Cardo wasn't the type to apologize. Ever. And yet...

"I've been in warzones that felt safer than watching you scream like that in the alley," he muttered. "Didn't sit right."

My heart stuttered.

He was close now—too close. The scent of metal, leather, and smoke clung to him, thick and grounding. I hated how comforted I felt in his presence. Or maybe I hated how much I didn't hate it.

"Why do you care?" I whispered, voice barely audible.

Cardo leaned down, his mouth near my ear. "I don't," he said lowly. "But I didn't like watching someone else try to break what already belongs to us."

His breath was warm against my skin. I shivered despite myself.

"You're not theirs. You're ours." He pulled back just enough to meet my eyes again, his expression unreadable. "Don't forget that."

Then he turned and walked away, leaving the room charged with something I didn't dare name.