Corruption

Chapter 11

I'd been allowed to rest for a few days. None of the Knights seemed eager to touch me after the painkillers wore off and the reality of Cardo's barbaric restitching set in. But now, it was back to my duties. Back to tending to the Knights.

Ugh. My Knights. I hated the way that sounded.

"Undress, pet," Kuruk said casually, helping slide the fabric from my shoulders in the dim light of his quarters' bathroom.

"I can shower myself," I huffed, snatching the material away and stepping back. I peeled the rest of my clothes off and let them fall to the floor. The water hit my skin a moment later, warm and blissful, washing away the tension in my muscles.

Kuruk leaned into the stall, his gloved hand catching my waist as he looked over my side. "Healing well," he muttered, seemingly satisfied. "Hurry up and clean yourself. Your Knights have something they wish to show you."

He left, closing the door behind him with a soft hiss.

Despite his order to be quick, I took my time. I scrubbed every inch of my body like I could wash away everything—the filth of the man at the club, the floor I was always forced to kneel on, the shame of how easily I had bent to survive. The water dulled my scars, but it couldn't cleanse the memory of his hands or the sound of my own screams.

When I finally stepped out, the bathroom's air bit at my skin. I wrapped a towel around myself, eyes catching on something new: a pile of neatly folded clothes on the counter.

I hadn't heard anyone enter.

Curious, I lifted the dress. It was black, flowing, and soft to the touch. The bodice was delicately embroidered—elegant in a way nothing else I'd seen here had been. It was the kind of dress a princess might wear. The kind I used to wear. No shoes, as usual, but I took what victories I could get.

I smiled faintly as I pulled the garment on, brushed my hair, and stepped out into the common room.

"Oh good, it fits. That dress suits you much better, princess," Trudgen said with a nod. A murmur of approval followed from the others—low voices of agreement.

I blushed and looked down, fiddling with my fingers as I awaited whatever came next.

"Come now, princess," Kuruk said, his gloved hand resting lightly on the small of my back. "We have a gift for you."

The other Knights fell in step behind us as Kuruk led me through the dim corridors of the base. It didn't take long to realize where we were headed. My stomach turned at the sight of the familiar halls—interrogation rooms. Holding cells.

Surely they weren't locking me up again. I hadn't done anything wrong. Had I?

I followed quietly, chewing the inside of my cheek.

We stopped in front of a thick metal door. The Knights exchanged silent looks before it slid open. I froze in place, heart hammering.

Vicrul noticed my hesitation. His arm slipped around my waist and he pulled me gently inside. I tensed as my eyes adjusted to the sterile glow of the room—and locked on a man bound to a metal contraption.

Him.

The man from the club. Bader.

I recoiled, trying to retreat, but Vicrul blocked the door.

"I want to go. Please," I whispered, tears brimming in my eyes despite how hard I tried to blink them away.

"Do not cry, princess. Be patient," he said softly, turning me around and guiding me further into the cold room.

The others entered silently, surrounding the man like wolves. Vicrul raised a hand—and Bader jolted awake, gasping in terror, eyes darting from mask to mask.

"Good. You're awake," Vicrul said, voice calm but cold. He stepped forward, scythe in hand, his movements deliberate.

"Come here, princess," he beckoned. I didn't move.

So they moved me.

A strong arm wrapped around my torso and lifted me, carrying me across the room. I was set down directly in front of him—of him.

"Now, pet," Vicrul said, brushing a gloved hand through my hair, voice tender but coaxing. "Tell me what he did to you."

I wiped my tears away and stared hatefully at the man before me, refusing to flinch.

"Where did he touch you, my little princess?" he asked, his tone now velvet-soft.

I couldn't refuse him.

"He grabbed me," I said, voice trembling, "when I was trying to follow Ren's instructions."

"And then?"

"He dragged me outside... threw me on the ground."

Vicrul nodded once, turning to Ushar. A silent signal.

Ushar stepped forward, lifted his war club, and crack—brought it down on the man's ribs. The same spot where my scar hid beneath the dress.

Bader screamed, thrashing against his restraints. I gasped—but didn't look away. Part of me... enjoyed it. I would never say that out loud. Not even to myself.

"What happened next, little one?" Vicrul asked gently.

I didn't want to keep going. I didn't want to be seen as weak. But I knew they wouldn't stop until they heard everything.

"He grabbed my hair. Dragged me across the concrete."

Another brutal crack—Ushar shattered the man's kneecap. The scream that followed was inhuman, more a wail than a cry.

The Knights turned to me again, silent. Waiting.

"He said... he said he was going to use me," I whispered, the words thick with bile. "Said he wanted to see what kind of slave I'd be."

I couldn't stop the sob that broke through. Just speaking it aloud made my skin crawl.

The room grew darker, not in light but in feeling. The air turned electric, charged with fury.

"I don't much like when people touch what's mine," Vicrul said, and drove the blade of his scythe deep into the man's side.

Bader gurgled as blood spilled from his mouth, staining his clothes.

"Manhandling my frail princess. What a pathetic excuse for a man," Trudgen snarled before cleaving into Bader's arm with a clean, vicious strike.

It was carnage. Bloody, raw, and loud.

I should have turned away. But I didn't. I couldn't.

Ap'lek dragged the butt of his axe across the floor with a metallic scrape. "I would encourage you to beg," he said slowly, "but I don't wish to hear your voice."

Cardo seized Bader's head and pulled it back to bare his throat. "I take immense pleasure in watching you die," he whispered.

"Please... don't..." Bader choked out, barely conscious.

A hand found my arm—Trudgen.

"You don't have to watch, princess. He won't hurt you again."

I met his eyes. "I don't wish to look away."

Ap'lek raised the axe. With one clean motion, he brought it down.

The head fell. Rolled. Hit the far wall with a dull thud.

And just like that, it was over.

Relief washed over me like cold water. He was gone. He would never sell another girl. Never touch another soul.

Vicrul leaned close, a hand at my back. "Are you alright, little one?" he asked gently, lifting my chin to read my face.

A smile curved my lips—small but true.

"I'm better than alright," I said, eyes locked on the remains. "That pig got what he deserved."