The Russian Fighter (Mafia Men #1)

A Solace

Chapter 24

Edited

He was dead.

He wasn't moving.

The crash of his bleeding body alerted Gold Eyes and his men, who didn't appear surprised about the mess as much as the Slaves. I, too, became expressionless while two men dragged Whipping Boy's limp body out.

Gold Eyes sat on the edge of the bed, taking my face in his hands and wiping the blood from my eyes. "Did he take you?"

I stared blankly at nothing.

Gold Eyes didn't need me to clarify. He knew the minute he saw the blade in the guy's throat. Lifting me in his arms he ordered nurses to clean up the mess as he lead me out the doors. Immediately a team started on removing the bloody sheet and mattress while the other Slaves stared on in terror.

"I need to get you clean," he whispered to me.

"What about Whipping Boy?" I asked nimbly.

"He's dead."

"Oh."

"Don't be surprised. Your blade pierced an artery."

Gold Eyes carried me to a room in one of the upstairs offices. I presumed it was his when nothing but weapons condoned the walls in cabinets, a wall of armory befitting to a man with a skull mask and danger beaming off him in waves.

From the small office he put me on my feet and dragged me to the back door that was stationed as a second room. There was a bed with its sheets untouched, a target board set across the room with several throwing knives caught on the bullseye.

Must be a hobby, I thought.

"Sit down," he shoved me onto his silky comfortable mattress as he went to the bathroom for supplies. "We need to get you clean."

He turned on his heels, hurrying back with a bowl of water and several white towels. I gasped as he set the damp, cold cloth upon my hands first, which instantly soothed me. He dropped to his knees and dipped the towel, swirling to a pool of red like the Whipping Boy's blood had flowed out of his neck.

Slaves were not allowed to shower unless they obeyed, so dirt and sweat mixed in the water. I hadn't worried about my hygiene, but now I was considering the horrible smell pouring from me.

Clearly I didn't fall in the category of obedience.

This feeling was so overwhelming that I started to cry.

I felt him behind me before his arms stole me by the waist. He was still fully clothed. The white dress shirt, crow suspenders and jeans plastered to every inch of his thick, muscled limbs. His patch of hair darkened in the light of the ceiling chandelier, as my blonde turned brunette, hiding my bloody face.

"Look at me, Rapunzel."

Rapunzel? Why not Slave?

I looked up at him.

Gold Eyes caged my head in his big hands. "Fight it. Don't let this break you. If you are to be broken, it is by my methods. Don't let that bastard win!"

I closed my eyes. "I can't. All I see, feel, hear is him."

"Open your eyes, Rapunzel. Open them!"