Eyes Like The Ocean | A Culled Crown Novella

Chapter 9

A train.

Somewhere between Gazda and Varos.

Leighton reacted first. One hand moved to shove Viera back, towards the still crowded train car and away from the guards, while the other made to clear the crowd. He shoved people aside, shouldering other passengers and urging Viera away—as if there were someplace they could possibly go.

People screamed and yelled. Behind them, guards were shouting orders. She couldn't understand them, couldn't think past the terror rising in her chest. There had to be something she could do.

They made it to the end of the line, had just stumbled forward and tore away from the still reeling crowd when two men stepped onto the train, trapping them from the other end. Her heart plummeted. She tried to back away but there was nowhere to go. Everyone in the line had turned to watch and they were barricaded inside the train car.

Viera looked at Leighton. His gaze was straight ahead, locked on the two men, as he shook his head. No. No, he wouldn't accept this. This wasn't how it ended for them. Leighton forced himself to focus. Both men were around his height and build, broad shoulders and arms corded with well-earned muscle. The first man, the one closest to them, smiled widely. As if he knew Leighton was sizing them up—deciding the odds if he tried to fight their way out.

He said, "I wouldn't if I were you."

She heard Leighton's knuckles pop as his hand tightened into a fist.

The man looked to Viera then, his smile widening. It was a predatory stare—the one he cast over her body. It lingered against her skin like a crude caress. He was handsome, with perfectly styled blond hair, sharp angular cheekbones, and full lips—lips that he ran his tongue over as he watched her.

Contemplating.

He tested her name, pronouncing each syllable slowly. As if that too were a way of tasting her. "Viera Kevlar."

She did not like it. Did not like how he smiled at her as he held out a hand, beckoning for her to step closer. Viera did not move an inch, but Leighton did. He stepped forward, his arm moving to push her back, so he was angled in front of her.

The man tsked and shook his head. "Mr. Seidel," he said, addressing Leighton, "you are under arrest for attempted manslaughter and theft." The man's smile only grew as confusion bloomed across Leighton's face.

Leighton shook his head. "I've never—"

The man continued speaking, "Miss Kevlar, you will be transported back to Gazda where you will announce yourself into the Culling."

She looked at him, taking in the lack of guard uniform and the arrogant way he stood—his feet shoulder width apart, his hands clasped behind his back. He looked as if he owned the world, owned her. As if she were a misbehaving pet.

Viera forced herself to stand a bit straighter. It took work to keep her voice steady as she said, "With what authority?"

The man nodded as if he'd expected the question, welcomed it, even. "With the authority of The Crown, of course."

Leighton spat on the floor between them. "The Crown can go to hell. And you with it."

The man's smile only grew, those dark brown eyes sparkling with malice. "Oh," he sighed and shook his head. "Mr. Seidel, I'm afraid that was a mistake."

Guards grabbed Leighton from behind.

People started screaming again, darting like frightened mice, as Leighton whirled on the men, his fists flying. He shoved Viera back, away from the fighting. Next to her, Leighton struggled, twisting and kicking at the guards as they took hold of his arms and wrists. There were too many of them. And while he managed to get a few hits, he was overtaken in seconds.