“Not really,” he replied and released his hand from mine, wandering off to God knows where. I just really hoped he wouldn’t mistakenly brush off shoulders with these soldiers and end up receiving the beating of his life.
Shaking my head at the boy who had disappeared behind a corner, I turned only to find Callan already watching me, his gaze dark.
“I’ll be gone for a couple of hours.” His voice was firm, sounding like a soldier commanding his army. “I’ll see you when I get back.”
“Is there a problem?” The question was out before I could stop it.
“Get some rest.” His expression didn’t waver. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
And then he was gone.
I stood there, fist clenched at my side, and finally, I allowed the uncertainty to truly creep in.
I should have really just let him go. Definitely, this wasn’t the same man who desperately wanted to be mine. This wasn’t the man who nearly died for me.
21
BETH
Until night fell and a new day began.
“Doesn’t the food look a bit too much?” I asked, my gaze shifting from the endless spread of different meals on the large table to Kenzo.
Even if I appeared less privileged, Kenzo at least didn’t. His clothes were designer brands and they saw his car that we drove around town with. So why were they trying to feed us like we were a couple of starving kids they generously picked from the street of Torvane?
Kenzo gave me a half-shrug in reply, then continued scrolling through his social media feed, replying to the thousands of comments on his latest post, giggling at the sheer love from his followers. Me with my 200 followers could never relate. I would post something I thought was nice and there would be just 2 likes. And for the 2 likes, one was from Kenzo and the secondwas from his spam account. How I often got commissioned on art was sheer miracle.
I turned to the table, my brows pulled together in calculation. I still wasn’t comfortable with how the whole table was covered with food. Did they think we were gluttons? I began to count. “You and I are already two,” I mused. “Callan makes us three. Who are the remaining two?”
“That’ll be Captain Razzo and Miss Ophelia,” Mr. Yulia answered, arriving at the table again with a stainless steel bowl, steam curling from its lid.
My mind immediately latched onto the names he just called. Razzo and Ophelia? Who were those people? Never heard of them.
If they were eating at the dining table that meant they couldn’t possibly be a staff, but a family member. How come it never came up in me and Callan’s conversations?
Wait, had I ever even asked him to tell me more about himself? I only knew about the family he came from and his job.
“Yulia.” A deep voice laced with Italian accent broke into my thoughts.
The sound of heavy boots followed, and then the owner of the voice appeared; an unfamiliar young man lowering himself into a chair with the easy confidence of someone who belonged.
His sharp eyes were the darkest shade of black I had ever seen; polished obsidian, piercing and unreadable. His onyx hair was styled into a messy pompadour, a silver ring gleaming at the corner of his lower lip.
Dark ink curled up his neck in the shape of a snarling snake–the exact tattoo I had seen a few times peeking from under the collar of Callan’s shirt.
My stomach twisted slightly at the sight of it. And thinking about it, all the soldiers I had been able to get a good look at since I arrived also had the same tattoo on the same spot.
What did it mean? Was that like the insignia of his group of soldiers?
“Well, I think your question is gonna be ans–”
“Yulia!”
Whatever Kenzo was saying got cut off by an irritated, high-pitched voice calling our Mr. Yulia.
The owner of the voice strode into the dining room too, her thigh-high leather boots clacking against the floor like the slow tick of a bomb. In full view, she was petite, the same height as me, yet she carried herself like she owned the universe.
Her feline eyes narrowed down on Kenzo and I immediately. “What’s happening here?” she demanded, voice cold and unwelcoming.
