Chapter 6: Blood, Betrayal, and Victor’s Bargain

The room smelled of salt and oil, the river just beyond the windows. Evans lounged in a leather chair, his eyes never leaving me. I tried not to tremble.

Their laughter was cruel, mocking. I felt my cheeks burn, but I kept singing, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing me break. Not this time.

The words hit like a slap. I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep my composure.

For a moment, I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. The world narrowed to a single point of pain.

His command was sharp, brooking no argument. I crossed the stage, my steps measured, refusing to show fear.

The blow was sudden, jarring. Beads scattered across the floor, catching in my hair, pulling painfully at my scalp. I gasped, stunned by the humiliation.

I blinked back tears, refusing to let them fall. The humiliation burned, but I stood tall.

Their laughter was harsh, echoing off the walls. I felt small, powerless, but I refused to let them see me cry. Not again.

I braced myself, closing my eyes, waiting for the blow.

His footsteps were quick, purposeful. I felt a rush of relief, knowing he wouldn’t let anything happen to me. Thank God.

He stood tall, his presence commanding. The soldiers fell silent, their laughter dying on their lips. I could finally breathe.

The tension broke, and I let myself cry, the tears hot and silent. Victor’s hand found mine, squeezing gently. I squeezed back, grateful.

He switched to easy banter, his voice smooth and confident. The soldiers relaxed, but I could see the calculation in Victor’s eyes. He was always thinking ahead.

He played the diplomat, offering them a distraction. I watched him work, marveling at his skill.

His suspicion was clear, but Victor only smiled, unruffled.

His words were simple, but there was a weight behind them. I felt a surge of gratitude, knowing he was risking everything for me. I owed him more than I could say.

The words were meant to sting, but Victor only shrugged, his smile never wavering.

He produced a sheaf of papers, the gesture casual but calculated. Evans’s eyes lit up, greed winning out over suspicion.

The deal was struck in seconds, the fate of the troupe sealed with a signature. I watched, heart pounding, as Evans took the bait. Relief and dread warred in my chest.

He licked his lips, eyes darting between Victor and the papers. Finally, he nodded, signing with a flourish.

His hand was warm, steadying. I clung to him, feeling the tension drain from my body. Safe. For now.

His smile was oily, insincere. I felt a chill run down my spine, knowing this wasn’t over.

His words were a knife, twisting the truth to suit his own ends. I felt the room spin, the world narrowing to a single point of pain. Harrison—gone?

The question echoed in my mind, disbelief warring with grief.

The realization hit like a blow, knocking the air from my lungs. I stared at Evans, searching his face for any sign of a lie, but all I saw was smug satisfaction.

The world blurred, the tears coming faster than I could stop them. I felt Victor’s arm around me, pulling me close. I let myself lean on him, sobbing quietly.

He held me tight, his grip reassuring. I let myself lean on him, the weight of grief too much to bear alone. I buried my face in his chest.

The ride was silent, the city lights flickering past. I stared out the window, lost in thought, Victor’s hand resting gently on my knee. I didn’t know what to feel.

He stared straight ahead, jaw clenched. I could feel the anger radiating off him, but I didn’t know if it was meant for me or the world.

His movements were brusque, efficient. He didn’t speak, just guided me inside, his grip unyielding.

I stumbled, barely able to keep up. The house was grand, but it felt cold, empty.

His arms were strong, lifting me as if I weighed nothing. I clung to his neck, afraid to let go.

His voice was rough, but there was a tenderness beneath it. I tightened my grip, burying my face in his shoulder. I didn’t want to let go.

His eyes were dark, searching. I felt exposed, vulnerable, but I refused to look away.

The question was a challenge, a dare to admit the truth. I swallowed hard, unable to answer.

The silence stretched, heavy with everything left unsaid. I felt tears prick my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

His lips were harsh, desperate. I tried to push him away, but he only held me tighter, his need for control overwhelming. I felt trapped, helpless.

He knew exactly how to make me yield, but tonight I refused to give in. The tears came anyway, hot and silent.

The name slipped out, unbidden. Victor froze, his eyes darkening with anger and something else—hurt, maybe, or betrayal.

His touch was punishing, each movement a reminder of everything we’d lost. I bit my lip, tasting blood, but I refused to cry out.

The world faded, the pain a distant ache. I let the tears fall, silent and endless.