Chapter Ten
888 Words
I was working on a comeback when everything changed.
The guards arrived seconds later—boots hammering the tarmac, shoulders squared for violence. Twelve in full gear. Formation tight. Intent unmistakable.
She still hadn’t moved. She knelt behind the blast shield on scorched concrete, trembling but silent.
Her hair was wild and unbraided, tangled and streaked with soot. It fell in chaotic strands across her face, obscuring her expression but not her intent. Her hands rested on her thighs, open but empty—fingers twitching with the effort to stay still. Her shirt was torn at the hem. One sleeve looked scorched. And her face…
Gods, her face looked like someone who’d made peace with death before she ever crossed the line.
The air was thick with engine heat and chemical haze—remnants of Vulkarin’s departure still clinging to the launch bay. The place reeked of scorched fuel and adrenaline. Not a sanctuary. A pressure point.
The guards didn’t shout. Didn’t posture. Just moved in—clinical and silent. One took her bag. Another cut the lining. A third scanned her mouth and scalp. Hands pulled her sleeves up. Checked her waistband. Lifted her shirt just high enough to search for wires or bruises.
She didn’t resist. Didn’t speak. No resistance, no voice, only compliance. She let them strip the secrets from her body like she was already someone else’s problem.
She looked at me once.
Not for help. Just for a verdict. Anything.
I had none to give.
Then came the stillness. Not silence—stillness. Like the air knew someone important was about to walk through it.
Lord Raven arrived.
He didn’t stride. He didn’t slow. He just moved like the weight of the House followed him with every step. Gabriella was one pace behind, hand near her blade, posture alert but composed. Judy straightened instantly, hands behind her back, spine aligned with command.
Lord Raven stopped at the edge of the cordon. His gaze fixed on the girl, then on me. His tone didn’t rise, but it didn’t need to.
“What’s a scavenger House sub doing on my tarmac?”
I swallowed.
“She asked for Sanctuary, my Lord… Beyond that, I know as much as you do.”
He walked forward slowly. The guards stepped aside as if moved by unseen force. Gabriella mirrored him, eyes never still, body coiled for anything.
He stopped just in front of her. The girl didn’t move.
“Name. House. Purpose.”
Her lips parted. It took effort to find voice.
“My name is…” She swallowed. “Ciara. House of Vaskra.”
The air tensed.
Judy spoke quietly from behind. “Minor House. Vulkarin-controlled. Known for violence. Loyal to power, not principle.”
Lord Raven didn’t respond to Judy. He was still watching Ciara.
“And what does a submissive from a scavenger House, aligned with my enemy, want from me?”
She didn’t flinch.
“My Master—Lord Kael—believed domination wouldn’t win this war. He planned a rebellion. Recruited from inside. They were going to strike today.”
“Were?”
She nodded once, eyes burning. “He was taken this morning. Vulkarin hit our gates. No warning. He’s alive—but not for long.”
She hesitated, then reached slowly toward the torn remains of her satchel. A guard intercepted, retrieving the paper tucked in the inner fold. He passed it up the chain.
Lord Raven scanned the names. His brow furrowed.
“These are real.”
He turned toward the command officer. “Yellow Alert. Lock the perimeter. No exits, no comms, no deliveries. House lockdown.”
The officer was already moving.
Gabriella hadn’t taken her eyes off Ciara.
She stepped slightly to the side, just enough to shield Lord Raven’s flank if needed.
And still Ciara knelt.
No protest. No plea.
Only the weight of waiting.
Judy spoke again.
“My Lord… what designation should she carry?”
The launch bay held its breath.
Lord Raven looked at her fully now.
Stepped forward.
He reached down—not roughly, not gently—and took a handful of her hair, lifting her face to meet his.
What he saw made something in his jaw tighten. A flare at the nostrils. A ghost flickering behind the eyes.
No mercy.
But recognition.
“I was a boy when I first saw someone kneel like that,” he said quietly. “My father called them ghosts.”
He let her hair go.
“She carries nothing until I say otherwise. And I don’t trust her.”
Judy bowed her head. “Yes, my Lord. I cannot proceed without direct command.”
He stood over Ciara another moment.
Then looked at me.
“She’s your problem now.”
I nodded once, unsure what that even meant.
Gabriella hadn’t moved. But I saw the tension in her jaw—the kind that comes from holding back more than just movement. The war between duty, loyalty, and the ache of seeing a broken submissive brought this low.
She didn’t argue.
Didn’t flinch.
But I could feel it.
This hit every sub hard.
Ciara didn’t beg.
Didn’t thank.
She just stayed kneeling. Waiting to see if she’d be branded traitor or spared as a survivor.
Lord Raven gave his final command.
“Black Disc.”
- Writer
