Page 114 of The Commons

His body jerks. He tries to fight it. He screams, “Shantavia!” my Pesh says my name, weak, out of breath, helpless.

“That’s right, she’s right there,” Londe taunts.

I struggle against the guards who are holding me, trying to release myself. With every ounce of my strength, I try. With every breath in my lungs, I try. With everything I have, I am trying. But I cannot break free. I am trying… and my Pesh is dying.

I try to scream, but it just escapes like mumbles. Just as I stomp on a guard, still trying to break free, Patron De Londe signals for them to remove the tie from my mouth.

As soon as they remove it, words crash out, wave by wave. “Pesh! I’m so sorry! I love you! I’m so sorry!” I scream. I do not know what to say. I just want him to know that I love him. I wish… tears drip down my face… I wish I can take away the pain. I wish…

I squirm, fighting their grip and struggling to free myself, but I am trapped. My bones recoil and anger rages through me as Patron De Londe suddenly stands, approaching me like a snake. I seeth, my gaze clashing into his like a fire as he slides a snake-like dagger to my neck.

I don’t move an inch. I do not want to be killed. I do not want Pesh to go through the pain of watching me suffer, of watching me die. I do not want to die, but I am not afraid of Londe. I am afraid of what he will do to the one I love. I despise everything he represents. Yet, I am not afraid of him. I am not afraid of his dagger. I am not afraid of death. I am afraid of losing Pesh. And Pesh is afraid for me.

Pesh moves on the floor instantly, struggling to speak. “I’ll... Tell… You… Please... Please... Don’t hurt... Her.”

Patron De Londe smiles, then drops the dagger. I watch him meticulously, looking for any blind spots to make a move, monitoring everything.

He bends, facing Pesh. “What was that I heard, Son? Was that the sweet sound of surrender? It seems so. And who has the backup files?” Londe asks.

I stare at the dagger Londe dropped. I look right, then left. I flip the dagger with my feet, and it strikes one of the guards holding me on his foot. He screams, falling to the floor as I pull myself out of the hold of the second guard—and flip the table with my legs to hit him. He also falls, and I run to the dagger, trying to cut the tie on my hands with my legs as support. Hands trembling, I nearly graze my hands as I notice Patron De Londe looking toward my direction, infuriated.

Suddenly, Beatrice walks in with two long sticks. Crap! Before I can get free, she hits me from the back.

“Arghhhh!” I fall to the ground.

Oh, how I despise this woman.

She lifts her stick to hit me again, swinging to crush my skull. Crap! I roll just in time, tumbling to the ground as the stick strikes the ground, mere inches from my head. Dust erupts from the ground as I lunge up in pain to see her snarling, flying toward me like a beast. Bloody woman!

I move quickly as Pesh’s words echo in my mind, you fall way too easily. I know I can’t afford to do that here. I cannot afford to fall.

I flex my right thigh just before pushing off, striking a controlled kick to her jaw. That was quite satisfying, actually.

But she gets up instantly.

My heel flies to her face again. And just as she stumbles, eyes widening like a demon in a trance, my eyes dart to the dagger on the floor in the same beat as her.

I’m getting that!

Hargh! We both break into a violent surge for the weapon. She dives forward frantically, her elbow moving to jab me, to shove me to the ground. Not happening. I dive down to the floor in a flash. “You have had me for the wrong girl.”

My tied fingers lightly graze the weapon as I slide it to my feet, kicking the dagger to slash her fingers in the same instant!

“You little deviant!” she snarls, hurling her hands to punch me.

“Say it again.” I kick the dagger up with my feet, and it slashes her brachium this time.

That was quite a nice aim.

She winces and lets out a guttural roar. A second later, she slams into the ground, squealing the moment she hits the floor. Perfect. I bolt, hurrying to grab the dagger on the floor.

Just as I do, my eyes shoot up to see she is already getting up, crawling against the hard floor. This bloody woman. I angle the blade, trying to cut off this nasty tie on my wrist. But it’s stubborn!

“No!” She seethes in realization, licking the blood gushing out her fingers.

Heart pounding, I avert my gaze from the weirdo, trying to angle the blade toward the tie again, but the cord resists—only scraping a little. What kind of tie is this?

I keep cutting, getting more frantic, trying to angle better as Beatrice now rises fully. And just as my movement falters, I hear Pesh whisper, “You got this.”