Lithe but toned. Garik didn’t dare think he was the weakest of the three. This guard carried his weight on the balls of his booted feet, hands braced at his hips where a holstered laser rested on each side. He appeared trained and fully prepared to take Garik on if necessary.
Garik withheld a snarl of frustration. Fucking Dedrin. To Maurin, he said, “What are the odds we both walk away from this and pretend it never happened?”
Laughter exploded from the others but Maurin stared at Garik. Amusement was replaced by avid curiosity and a hint of cruelty.
Garik stilled. He’d faced corrupt and evil men across more worlds than he could count but Maurin was on another level. Garik ran several scenarios through his head and all of them ended up with him dead. Since he rather liked living, he controlled his instinct to fight back as one of Maurin’s men approached with a second set of restraints.
“Bring him to the dungeons,” Maurin ordered.
One of the guards surrounding them bound Garik’s ankles, immobilizing his ability to take large steps as another grabbed his elbow and jerked him forward.
The corners of Maurin’s eyes crinkled. Although he didn’t smile, there was an air of satisfaction about him. “Now, we will see how well one of the Guild does under torture.”
It was what Garik expected once he realized the trap that had been sprung. None of them spared a glance for Dedrin’s slain body as they left the back room of the bar Maurin frequented. It was where Garik had plotted to poison him. Clearly, Dedrin’s purpose in Maurin’s mind had already been filled.
Behind him, looters were already gathering around his slain peer to pick his pockets dry. The body would be disposed of at some point. Garik couldn’t find it in him to care. He risked one last glance around the rudimentary establishment. Worn clothing, rough mannerisms, eyes glittering with greed. A haven for those like-minded with an interest in dark activities without remorse or consequence.
There would be no one here coming to his aid. So Garik would have to wait. He was accustomed to waiting. Maurin didn’t know as much as he thought about the members of the Guild if he thought Garik would go down easily.
Outside, the air was heavy and thick with the arid feel of a weather change. It was common for severe dust storms to rise without warning on Quantoon. Though brief in time period, the deadly weather phenom had been known to destroy everything in its path.
The guard on the right smashed a meaty palm on top of Garik’s head and forced him in the backseat of the armored vehicle parked in front of the bar beneath a bright spotlight. He could have resisted and overpowered him but the odds were against him if he chose to fight back now.
The crowd lingering outside the establishment looked in their direction then quickly turned away when they noticed Maurin. Garik spread his legs wide and made himself comfortable on the cushioned synth leather seat. The interior was filled with buttons and gadgets, the expense obvious. A brawny weight settled on the right side of him as the door was slammed shut. The other burly guard sat on the bench seat across from Garik and growled low as he kicked one of Garik’s booted feet to the side to make room for his own.
Instead of reacting, Garik folded his restrained hands on his mid-section causing both to tense and place their hands on their weapon. He held in a snort of amusement and tipped his head back as if in casual regard. There was a thick clear partition separating the driver in the front from those in the back.
Maurin sat in the front with the lean watchful guard. Garik steeled his heart, muscles going lax as he reclined in the seat, drawing nervous stares. His spirit gained confidence with each mile they traversed assumedly to Maurin’s home and what would surely be his most painful trial yet.
Where Dedrin failed, where Maurin would fail as well, was in thinking that attaining the skill level Garik held as an assazi was about nothing more than sheer brute, physical strength.
They were wrong. It was about the mind and ones’ internal fortitude. Garik excelled in that arena because he had nothing to lose and everything to win. Dedrin had never understood that which ultimately led to his demise.
Garik inhaled and exhaled as they cross the courtyard from one complex to another. From the moment of his parents death to the time of Nevo Xyman offering him a chance with the Guild, all Garik had was himself and a belief if he could stand firm against uneven odds, he could stand firm against all else.
Training with the Guild had only solidified that belief. Now, indeed, Maurin would see that Garik was not defeated.
Nor was he prey to be so easily brought down.
Chapter 3
“We have orders to kill him in the morning,” the first voice said with a hint of glee in the tone.
“I know. Lord Maurin will prove to the Guild and their blind followers that we are not afraid of them. Others will soon see this too. Half of their success hinders on the terror they engender and the other half from unsubstantiated claims about their ability to kill and vanish without sign or trace,” the second voice added.
Saedra eased back further behind the door in the lower level living room as she kept her ear pressed to the frame and continued to listen. They were discussing her father and the man held prisoner in the dungeon beneath their home.
“The publically broadcasted execution should finally cripple the image the Assassins Guild has.” The first voice finished with a chuckle and the second joined in.
Hair crawling at her nape, Saedra back further from the doorway then lifted the hem of her skirts to turn and race away. Her slippers were silent on the stone floors and her gait lopsided but she’d perfected her own version of speed and managed to clear the stairs before the hint of the rough voices edged closer.
At the end of the hall on the second floor, she took a sharp left then a right until she passed several closed doors to reach her bedroom. Once inside, she closed the door and leaned back against the sturdy structure barring her from the evil on the other side. Her breath escaped in pants. It was time. The idea had been building for weeks from the moment she discovered the identity of the man her father held prisoner.
Tonight would be her best shot. Perhaps even her last chance to escape the future her father wanted to condemn her to with the vicious pirate as her husband. There had been a special dinner last night to introduce Saedra to Hritham. Aside from his appearance, the way his empty eyes gazed upon her scared Saedra more than anything her father had ever done. When he’d licked his lips and twirled his long tongue in her direction, she’d almost run from the room.
Sweat beaded on her temple at the thought of being forced to accept the tentacle pirate for her husband. Saedra swiped the moisture away and tried to calm her pounding her.
She had to act now. Pushing away from the door, Saedra glanced around her room and the familiar furnishings. Simple and without frills, her room was a reminder that Maurin provided only the basics. He didn’t care if she languished in his home or thrived. The only reason he hadn’t killed her was because he continued to hope he could use her to his advantage. With her marriage to Hritham, he’d have his wish.
Her lips pressed firmly together. She wasn’t willing to be a pawn any longer. A quick search of her closet provided a dark cloak with a hood that would fall low enough to cover her face. Saedra shrugged her arms into it, ignoring the scent of crushed flowers, which brought with it the memory of her deceased mother. Not today. She couldn’t afford those dark thoughts right now when her one chance at getting away was slipping away with each moment she wasted.