Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

TAVISH

I turn and run from him, fleeing as fast as my feet will move. Draven's bellows and the door smacking into the table as he tries to get through it provide a backdrop for my escape attempt.

"You best stop. You know what happens when you run from me."

"Screw you!" I scream, making a mad dash through the atrium toward what has to be the door out of here.

I dodge all matters of things as I run for the door. Anything and everything I can pick up and toss behind me as I go, I do, leaving a path of destruction behind me. Something has to slow him down or injure him enough he can't chase me down.

My hand wraps around the handle with a sigh of relief and I yank it open.

A fucking closet.

My eyes flood as defeat swarms me like a hive of angry bees attacking from every angle. I look around the tiny room. There's nothing I can use to protect myself. It's just an empty closet that smells of soil and fertilizer. Samuel bears down on me, so I step inside and pull the door closed.

Or try to.

The door that opened easily enough sticks as I try to pull it closed. It's almost like something's wedged in the hinges.

"Please, please, please," I beg, but no matter how much I yank on it, it won't shut.

Letting go of the door, sobs overwhelm me, and I let them have a moment, but that's all they get. When I hear Samuel's feet approaching, I suck it up and dash the tears from my face. I'm not the same boy I was when I was with him. I'll not let him push me back there.

The sound of Draven beating on the door, trying to get to me, reminds me of who I am now.

I am Tavish Buchanan.

A founder of Societas Exspiravit.

But most importantly, I'm Draven and Simon Helvig's boy. It doesn't matter whether Simon is with us. That changes nothing. I'm still his because I'm Draven's and so was he. I'll be damned if I let Samuel take me without a fight, covered in tears and snot, begging for mercy. I'll do my Daddies proud. Both of them, the one who loves me and the one who didn't get the chance.

Samuel appears in the doorway, a smug smirk painted on his ugly mug. His eyes run up and down as if he's appraising me. It leaves me feeling cold and used.

"You know better than to hide yourself from me."

I did know better. But that was old Tavish. New and improved Tavish wants to tell him to go fuck himself. But I don't think I have the courage, not yet. So, instead I whisper it. Something I know he hates.

"What was that? Get out here, boy."

I still don't answer. I keep my gaze on his face, my mouth shut, and I watch him stew, growing angrier and angrier.

He reaches into the closet and snatches hold of my arm, pulling me toward him. The touch of his skin against mine has my stomach churning with the need to puke. He's always disgusted me. Now that I've met Draven, I feel even more turned off by the man in front of me than I ever have before. He's vile, evil, and not worth the money he spent on his expensive shoes.

"You know how to behave. I expect you to do exactly as you've been taught."

That order is not a new one. It's something he's told me every single time I didn't do as he expected me to. But he can kiss my ass. Better yet, he can go suck himself. And this time, I suck it up, and I tell him so.

"Go fuck yourself. You're not the boss of me. And you're definitely not my owner, my daddy, or my Dom. You are nothing."

"Boy, I suggest you remember your place in this world. It wouldn't take much for me to put you at auction."

Howling with laughter, I look at him and ask, "What auction block? Your auction block and the Order all went up in flames because I blew it the fuck up."

His hand comes from nowhere, smacking me across my cheekbones, his knuckles breaking the skin beneath the outer corner of my eye. He's hit me so hard I can taste the blood in my mouth where my cheek has cut across my teeth. The coppery smell and taste add to the churning in my gut, and I'm certain I'm going to puke. Instead of showing him weakness, I gathered all the blood in my mouth and I spit it at him, covering his face in the reddish slime.

It runs down his face, dripping off the edge of his jawline onto his shirt. The droplets paint a gruesome picture. Looking at it and him, I cannot help but be proud, especially considering the look of disbelief on his face. It's one of the funniest things I have ever seen.

I'm guessing he didn't think I would ever fight back. But Draven taught me to fight back, and I'll be damned if I go down without giving it my all, just like my daddy taught me.

He wipes his hand over his face, smearing the bloody saliva down into his beard and onto his shirt. His face is still incredulous and laughter bubbles up from within me. It's not long until I'm cackling the picture he paints. My laughter washes over him. Rage fills him. I watch it happen as if he's an empty vessel, and it's being poured into him. His body goes stiff, his eyes harden, his mouth sets in a firm, flat line. I know what's coming. Pain. A lot of it. I don't care. He can beat me. He can rape me. He can sell me. But he will not break me.

This time, he telegraphs his punch, and I see it coming. I duck out of the way, slipping underneath his arm and squeezing between him and the door. He howls as his fist strikes the stone wall of the castle inside the closet. I run as fast as I can towards the other door. I can still hear Draven beating on the door Samuel closed in his face. It sounds like he has his axes out and he's hacking away at the wood.

I scream, "I'm still here, Daddy! He's not caught me yet."

His deep voice rumbles through the door, but I can't make out what he said.

A bellow sounds behind me, and I know he's on me. I can feel him breathing down on me. I keep running, determined to get away from him. Trying to give Draven as much time as possible to get to me.

Running past several tall plants in pots, I pull them over, tossing several smaller ones behind me, throwing some of them at him when I think I can actually hit him. Despite that, he's closing in on me. I know it's just a matter of moments before he can get to me. Passing by a worktable covered in tools, I grab something up. I've not a clue what it is, some sorta blade or shovel.

Samuel grabs me, surprising me, even though I knew it would happen sooner than later. Swinging whatever I grabbed from the table at him, I catch him across the chest with the tip. Our gazes lock and his eyes widen before he looks down. My gaze follows to his chest. Blood blooms on his shirt. Frozen in place, I watch the blue hue of the fabric deepen and cling to him.

His hand wraps around my throat, jerking me to him as a loud crack comes from the door Draven's been beating against. My eyes fly to Samuel. Rage mottles his face, and he growls, "You're going to wish you hadn't done that."

I try to swallow the gulp his words trigger, but his fingers tighten around my neck, cutting off my oxygen. I struggle in his grasp, trying desperately to suck in some air as I stare into his smug fucking face. A smile creeps in, turning rage into glee.

Punching, slapping, and kicking him does nothing but make the smile grow and his hand tightens around my throat with every little bit of breath that leaks out of me like a boa constrictor strangling its prey.

The rhythmic thuds of Draven's axes cease, only to be replaced by his voice screaming, "Fuck!"

As my vision dims, pounding footsteps retreat from the door and slowly fall silent.

"Looks like your daddy just deserted you," Samuel sneers through a smirk.

He wraps his palm around my upper arm and drags me from the room. His nails bite into my skin, burrowing under the flesh painfully. I can already feel blood rushing to the surface and rolling down my arm.