I walked for a while until I realized I had no direction at all. The nausea hadn't passed; I took a deep breath—if I ate anything, I would vomit. My past was making me sick. Now that my mind seemed clearer, I noticed I was soaked. It was raining heavily—rare not to rain in London. The always cloudy sky confirmed that. I headed back to the investigation building; I had to report what I discovered. Gran Fort could be involved in the opium case. If that was true, I'd be digging deeper into this mess, and I was afraid of facing him—just like that man had predicted—unable to escape his grasp ever again.
"Blauth, Blauth." Eric was right in front of me—I hadn't even noticed when I got to the building. I definitely needed to pay more attention while walking.
"Something happened? You're drenched." He smiled, but there was no warmth in it. It could have been positive that the senior showed interest, but I quickly remembered what Félix thought of me.
I ended up following him without motivation. Honestly, I didn't know how to deal with the discovery. I just accepted the towel when he offered it. I took off only the top layer of my clothes to dry off. Eric didn't look at me while I did it. Was it because he touched me sensually as if it was bad for someone else—or simply irresistible?
"Grey's dead." His voice was dry, without a hint of sorrow. "He was murdered, to be clear. It was inevitable."
"I see." I hoped my voice didn't sound odd; honestly, I didn't care. Grey was disgusting—who would mourn him? I bet he'd end up in some ditch; no one would care for that man. "Did you find the guy who ambushed us at the dock?"
"Yes. He was found tied to the bridge, drowned when the water rose." I let the towel slip from my shoulders and met Eric's eyes. He seemed to want to know what was going on in my head. The thoughts weren't as pretty as I wanted to show.
"I..." I hesitated. I hated hesitation; I always wanted to sound confident.
"The boss said you went to talk to Rachel. Is that why you're reacting like this? What happened?" Félix walked toward me and sat in front of me. For someone who supposedly didn't want me as his partner anymore, he seemed too attentive. I didn't want that from him—not now.
"I was practically born in a castle, the cook's son. The owner of that place was Lord William Gran Fort II, the man who basically took care of me." I wouldn't say in what way—Félix didn't need to know the sordid details of my life. "As you probably know, that man owns some of London's most luxurious brothels. Rachel got the drug from the place where she worked to sell her body. Other girls got it the same way, with the same intention. Knowing that man was involved disturbed me." I sighed. Admitting that was hard; it felt like it hurt my pride. But I still had to remember it was my job—I owed William nothing anymore.
"He was like a father to you, that's why you feel bad. It's understandable." Félix said, crossing his arms, convinced of it. I almost laughed at the sentence. I tried to relax around him, but it was impossible.
"Yeah..." I hoped he didn't catch the sarcasm in my voice. A father wouldn't have sex with his own son or dominate him in every possible way—though he never had my heart. How would Félix react if he knew how filthy I was? How stained I had been by that man? I couldn't imagine. I painted him with my colors—no one could erase that, because you were stained by me. Again, those possessive words I was starting to think were serious. I lowered my gaze, and that's when I felt Eric's hand on my shoulder.
"I can handle this alone, Blauth. There's no reason for you to be like this." Eric looked worried, but maybe his words were meant to push me away, to leave him alone. What a Machiavellian man.
"I'm not going to give you that satisfaction. If the Lord is involved, I want to find out." I stood up, feeling stronger. I didn't know why, but talking to the investigator revived my will and aspirations. Even though I was hurt that his words might mean he wanted me out of the investigation, that thought was disturbing.
"Don't be impulsive." Seriously, I had to hear that from him? I put my shirt back on and followed him to the boss's office, who listened carefully to everything. Eric didn't mention my connection to Gran Fort. I felt relieved.
"The next step is Bartolomeu. We need to intercept the ship that man is responsible for. Tonight, the police will be with you. Be ready, and go change, Blauth—seeing you wet gives me a cold." The boss growled, and I left immediately. I wondered if that cold had something to do with desire—especially since he hadn't stopped staring at me the entire meeting. Maybe he was immune or just didn't care. I bumped into Taylor on the way—he almost fell, but I caught him before he hit the ground.
"S-sorry, Blauth." Oliver usually looked down, so bumping into people happened a lot. I'd noticed how shy he was, and he was adorable.
"Are you going to see the boss? Stay calm, Taylor. Breathe." I gave him a sympathetic smile. The boy stirred my libido in the wrong way—I felt like I could devour him. It was strange. He just nodded and kept going.
"Did he touch you?" Gran Fort had tied me up, suspended, whipped me with his three-pointed whip. It was the first time I'd been punished that way. Other "games" with that whip happened often, but this time it was different. I felt punishment—not pain for pleasure, but pain for pain. "Did Crow touch you?!" The man was furious. He knew he couldn't kill Bartolomeu, who was the subordinate of a very important associate, but he would tear off every finger of that man's hand if he knew he dared to touch me.
"N-no, he never touched me..." My voice was weak and tired. My back hurt and bled, and I cried a lot. Not satisfied, William gave me four more lashes, making my screams echo through the room, if not through the castle corridors. I don't remember how long it really lasted, but it felt like hours.
"You're mine." He said, exasperated. Then he cared for me, cleaned my wounds, and let me rest. I never forgot the pain. I'd never wanted to forget someone so badly as Bartolomeu Crow. When I woke the next day, I only remembered the pain—not the reason for feeling it.
I woke up being shaken by Eric. Normally, he wouldn't let me sleep, but he made an exception on the way to the port. I had dry clothes, but the rain didn't seem to let up. Bartolomeu Crow—I never thought I'd see him again—was responsible for my first and last punishment. That pain marked me so much that during those years of training, after leaving the mansion, I avoided anyone out of unconscious fear. However, Gran Fort wasn't my master, and I was determined to seduce Eric Félix, who was now leaving me behind in the carriage. I ran after him.
"Wait." I pouted, even knowing I didn't have to wait for the end of my wandering thoughts.
"Stop getting lost in unnecessary thoughts, Blauth." The sentence hurt, but it was assertive. I needed to focus more. This case was messing with my head even more. If before I often lost myself in thoughts, now it was almost impossible to ignore memories and the past.
The police moved with us. We had authorization to board Stan's ship in the harbor—that's where we'd find Bartolomeu Crow. Eric told me to stay back while they raided. I was allowed to carry a gun. It wasn't my first time holding a firearm—I'd done it only in training—but now, holding ammunition, it felt real. I was really an investigator.
I watched the men get captured and lined up. No sign of Crow. I was accompanied by five officers when I saw someone jump off the ship into the water, swimming to the shore, heading toward the factories.
"There." I said, running toward where I saw Bartolomeu go. We couldn't wait for Eric's orders if that man was going to escape. There were three factories, so we had to split up. With every step, my heart beat faster. I heard glass breaking—it came from a warehouse. I was alone, so I approached carefully, gun ready. Despite my caution, I was caught off guard when someone grabbed my arm and twisted it, making me drop the weapon. I screamed in pain as I was thrown to the uneven floor. Some shards of glass didn't cut me only because of my thick clothes. The man was behind me, grabbed something like wire, and wrapped it tightly around my wrists.
"Let me go! There's no way out! You're completely surrounded." I said, trying to buy time until the others arrived. In a few minutes, the place would be surrounded.
Despite my words, Bartolomeu dragged me toward the observation room. The window was boarded up. He grabbed the heaviest stick lying on the floor and wedged it against the door after throwing me down again. Too hostile—no way to lie. I was scared. Whoever would help me would take a while to break the door. Nervous, my face went pale, my messy hair fell over my face. Pulling my wrists only caused pain.
"Finally. I've been waiting for this day..." Obviously, Crow recognized me. That filthy man came toward me, ravenous. He tore open my shirt, exposing my chest. I tried to kick him, but he easily subdued me. I gasped, fear taking hold of me, even as he started to caress me. But he didn't waste time pulling down his own pants to penetrate me.
"N-no." I faltered, voice trembling. The disgust made me feel like vomiting. The sound of rain pounding the roof made me sure that even if I screamed, no one would hear me.
"That sweet voice makes me harder. Just thinking I'm finally going to fuck you makes all those years in prison worth it." He smiled, yellow, rotten teeth increasing my revulsion.
Just as I thought I'd be raped, the window shattered—like hammer blows against the wood. Then a shot rang out, hitting Bartolomeu's shoulder. The man twisted and screamed loudly in pain, falling unconscious. Blood stained my clothes. I looked up and saw Eric's face. I never imagined I'd see him with so much hatred. I was sure that if Bartolomeu weren't the key witness in the case, Eric would have emptied his gun on that unconscious man.
The door was broken down. The police grabbed the man on the floor and pressed on his wound to stop the bleeding. Someone helped me—I didn't even know his name. Some men there looked at me strangely, lasciviously, but I just ignored it, closed my coat, covering my nakedness so I wouldn't feel so defeated. As I left the warehouse, I noticed Eric holding his own shoulder, seeming to feel the pain now that adrenaline was gone. Suddenly, I remembered Félix was injured and went to check on him, worried—I almost forgot what had happened.
"Your shoulder is hurt, and you use brute force to break the window." My voice shook with concern—I might have made his injury worse.
"Did you want me to let you get raped?" Eric looked pissed. I lowered my eyes and shook my head no. Even though we caught Crow, I felt terrible—defeated, filthy, exposed.
"Get in the carriage."
I had no choice but to obey. The guilt of being ambushed was consuming me. I leaned against the carriage wall, refusing to stop staring at Eric. We were alone—they'd take care of Bartolomeu.
I kept looking at Eric throughout the trip. They'll just use you, nothing more—they only want you for their interest. Those words were lies. Félix wasn't interested in my body—he always protected me without asking for anything carnal in return. The feeling was so comforting and unique. Every action of his—even when he avoided me—was somehow caring. I think I'm falling in love for the first time.