Curiosity Broke Kat - Chapter 5: Poised and Punished
Grabbing my clothes, I hurriedly clamber into them, not bothering with my bra and panties still lying in the bathroom, or even taking the time to button up my tight jeans. I sit on the bed, pulling the boots onto each foot before stumbling across the room. My red hair fans across my shoulders and face as I open the bedroom door, slowly peeking out into the corridor.
Leo stares back at me, arms crossed, back leaning against the wall as he shakes his head in dismay. "Morning, Mistress."
"Eww." Mistress? I shiver, slamming the door in his face, the sound of him muttering something rude only partially muted through the wood. Now what?
I head for the bathroom and close the door, rechecking the window. I could pick the lock if I had my tools...or even just two paperclips would do it. Marching back into the bedroom, I rifle through the vanity desk, finding nothing thin or pointy enough to do the trick. Moving on the the cupboard, then the chest of drawers, I finally come across a woman's purse and strike gold -- discovering several hair ties and bobby pins tucked away inside. Not allowing myself the time to ruminate on who that purse might belong to, I grab the chair beside the vanity and lean it against the bedroom door on its two back legs, the backrest tucked under the handle. It won't stop them, but it might slow them down. Back inside the bathroom, I pry open the pins and work away at the lock, holding my breath, listening for the sound of the mechanisms working.
Click.
I step back, somewhat surprised I was able to pop the lock without my gear. I pull the handle and the cool, fresh air hits me, morning dew coating the outside frame and wetting my jumper as I lean forward to peer outside. A pipe, likely a grey-water outlet runs from one of the rooms on the third floor, down the wall just parallel to the window...perhaps I can--
"Miss Bloomer?" Leo calls. The distinct sound of a metal handle striking wood sends tingles of alarm up my arms and legs. "Did you lock the door?" he asks, jiggling the handle once again.
No time to think. Need to act. Need to move. Climbing onto the sink, I crawl through the window up to my waist, leaning across to grab the pipe. Just as the sound of splintering wood rocks through me, I grip the pipe with both hands and haul the rest of my body through the window, holding on for dear life.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Leo calls angrily from the window.
I keep my eyes pinned shut, not wanting to look down, not wanting to look across. If this pipe had been plastic, I would have slipped and fallen by now. Thankfully, due to the age of the house, the pipes were in fact metal, possibly lead.
"You didn't exactly give me much of a choice," I grind out in return, concentrating on finding a foothold in the fastenings keeping the pipe to the wall. "None of you did. You just decided to kidnap me, then beat me in front of your little cronies."
Leo pauses long enough for me to turn my head and see the scrunched-up face he's making, "Nobody says cronies, please don't ever say that again."
I roll my eyes and start my decent, slipping slightly on the wet, crudely painted pipe. "You know," I mutter, grunting with the effort to keep from falling, "you should really get a plumber out to check these pipes, they're corroded to --" I glance up only to find the window now empty. "FUCK!"
Sliding, scraping and scurrying down the pipe, I drop the last few feet, rolling my ankle and cursing up a storm as I hotfoot it across the lawn. Shouts emerge from the manor, a familiar, deep voice barking orders to the others. Logan. He had taken a risk bringing me in, 'claiming me' as he had put it. But I'm a human being. I get to make my own choices. Fuck their organisation.
I make it to the garden wall and after tearing holes in my clothes and about three layers of skin off my knees and elbows, I tumble over the top and down onto the bushes below. Crawling through the undergrowth, I drag my bruised and battered limbs out of the foliage and begin picking my way through the forest adjacent to the manor, crossing my arms and tucking my hands into the warmth of my pits as I hobble over the uneven terrain. I really didn't really think this through. I should have gone south, towards the main road. If I'm stuck out here by the time it gets dark, I'll freeze my tits off.
Soft, far-away voices carry on the wind, Logan and his men searching the woods around the estate. They likely checked along the road first, so I'm well ahead, their shouts barely a whisper against the rustling of leaves in the breeze.
Shivering, hunching my shoulders and holding myself tight, I continue north, hoping my prior research was correct. Before stealing the ring I'd naturally done my homework on the surrounding area. About 5 miles ahead there's another main road...if I can reach it before Logan reaches me, I might have a chance.
A branch snaps somewhere behind and I turn so quickly I lose my footing, falling amongst the broken twigs and wet leaves. Dappled sunlight breaks through the foliage, but fails to touch the shadows, fails to show me who's watching.
"I knew you would run," a cold voice calls from behind the cover of trees. I don't need to see their face to know who it is.
"Michael," I breathe, fear coiling around my stomach.
"Logan's a fool. He should have let me kill you and just been done with it."
I raise a hand self-consciously to my neck, to the faint bruises that now pepper the skin from our first encounter earlier this morning. My mouth opens and closes, excuses and pleas on the tip of my tongue. When he steps into the light, his cool, hard expression tells me to save my breath. "I'm his," I whisper instead. "I'm under his--"
"Protection?" Michael finishes with a sneer. "You pissed that away the moment you took off." When I shake my head in denial, he rolls his eyes and stalks towards me. "Now you're all mine."
I scream, scrambling to my feet and ignoring the stab of pain in my ankle. Feet pound on the soft ground behind me, and I barely make it two steps before I'm tackled to the ground, my face crushed into the dirt as Michael's hands grip both of my wrists. I scream again as he pulls me to my feet, the sound cut short as he delivers a sharp, brutal slap across my face.
"One more sound and I'll cut your vocal cords," Michael seethes, fingers wrapping around my throat, his face inches from mine.
I close my eyes, a sob desperately trying to claw its way past my lips. I remain soundless, mirthless and numb as Michael removes his belt and wraps it around my wrists, tying both in front of me. If my ankle wasn't fucked, I might be able to take him. He isn't like Logan, he's smaller, more wiry...my skill would almost certainly outmatch his strength. Michael pulls out a blade and presses it to the hollow of my throat, dissolving any thought of fighting back.
"I will say one thing for my brother...he has good taste," Michael says, his eyes blazing a trail down my ripped jumper and jeans. His gaze pauses on the button of my trousers still undone, his eyebrow quirking in amusement. "How thoughtful of you, leaving the door unlocked," he coos, chuckling at his own witless banter.
"So, what now?" I ask, feigning bravery. "You kill me, bury me in the woods, and just hope Logan doesn't discover your betrayal?" It was a risk to talk at all, but I see the flash of hesitation in his eyes at that one word -- betrayal. "He trusted you to respect his wishes, to protect what he chose to claim." I fake a cynical laugh, my throat bobbing with the effort. "You're literally doing the opposite."
Michael's hand snaps up and once again strikes the side of my face in a punishing blow, knocking me to the ground. "Stupid bitch. Didn't I tell you to shut the hell up!?" he roars.
I smile. That's what I needed, for Michael to give away our position. Logan had been close enough for me to hear his shouts...now hopefully he's close enough to hear Michael's. "Does it make you feel like a man, beating on a defenceless woman?" I yell, smiling through the blood smearing my lips as I glare up at him.
"Do you have a fucking death wish?" he asks, no longer thinking about the volume of his voice. "I was going to make you cum before I cut you open," he says, his laugh maniacal. "But I think we'll just get straight to it."
I scream in a last ditch effort to call for Logan as Michael lunges forward with the blade outstretched. Kicking out with both feet, I manage to catch him in the groin, sending him tumbling to one side hunched over and gasping for breath. Clambering to my feet, I race through the trees, back towards the manor, towards the sound of an army of feet thundering towards me. Dark blonde hair ducks and weaves between branches ahead of me, Logan's tall and wide frame instantly recognisable.
He spots me running towards him and I note the relief overshadowing the fury in his eyes, the way his brow crumples in concern when I collapse into his arms in a flurry of tears. After squeezing me tight, he holds me at arm's length, his eyes assessing the bruises on my cheeks, ripped clothes and swollen ankle.
"Michael," I manage to say in between heaving sobs. "Michael is there, he has a knife!" I point with my bound hands back to where I'd come from. Logan begins untying my wrists, nodding to three of his men in a silent command. The trio take off, one drawing a gun while the other two ready their switch-blades.
Taking my face in his hands, Logan's gaze catches on the blood staining my lips, then crushes his mouth to mine in a fierce kiss. I lean into him, trying for the life of me to figure out why the fuck I'd run in the first place. Without a word, he lifts me into his arms, turning and walking with his lips still locked on mine, back towards the manor.
It's been several hours since my return to the house. Since then, a doctor, two nurses and a maid have all been by to see me, to tend to my wounds and help me bathe. Logan, however, had yet to make his return. After dropping me off in the same bedroom I'd managed my great escape from, he had called in the maids, ordering the doctor to be summoned and for updates regarding Michael's whereabouts. He had kissed my forehead, telling me he would be back, then he was gone.
I sit back on the bed, pulling my silk robe tight around me and rubbing my sore ankle. Reaching for the nightstand, I pop another prescribed paracetamol to help with the pain. I could do with wine...wine would help. A book would be great too. Fuck I'm bored. Using the table to aid me, I manage to stand and hobble over to the window seat. Outside the late afternoon sun is shining, but there's a crispness to the air. Cold, clear winter days like these are my favourite; when the ground is dry and slightly frosty, but the skies are clear and full of birdsong.
I watch, barely aware as life moves around outside, a gardener tending to the extensive manor grounds. Maids and butlers gossiping on their lunch breaks. I sit up straight, one palm pressing against the glass when Logan appears below, walking with obvious haste along the garden path with two of the men I'd seen in the woods. Dressed in a black shirt and slacks, he looks downright dangerous. Stopping just below the window, I have the rare opportunity to watch him while he's unaware, to see all of the little tells he might otherwise try and hide. The way he runs a hand through his hair when he's frustrated. The tick of his jaw. The soft clicking of his thumb and finger when he's impatient.
I squeak and turn my face from the window when he suddenly looks up my way. Slowly, I glance back, and am disappointed to find he's gone. Three years. That's what Logan said I would have to pay in return for stealing. Will it be three years of trying to glimpse him through a window? Three years of fighting to stay alive?
