Legacy Of Blood

Chapter 5

The morning was grey again.

A mist was still clinging low over the estate grounds when Larry was marched out to the garden with a wheelbarrow, a set of shears, and a list of instructions barked at him by an older gardener who clearly resented having help forced on him.

Larry worked through it without complaint, his hands were still raw from the day before, muscles still aching from the current that had torn through him.

Every cut of the shears, every pull of a w**d from the soil, he did with his mind somewhere else entirely, running through the same thought over and over.

This was the price.

Gain Damon's trust.

Work his way up from nothing, from dirt and blisters and beatings, until he stood close enough to Damon and Joshua that neither of them would see the blade coming until it was too late.

That was the plan.

That had always been the plan, from the moment he decided against storming the gates.

He hadn't spent ten years building himself into a man other men feared just to end up disrespected on his knees in someone else's garden.

But he reminded himself, again and again, that this was temporary.

It was a means and not who he was.

It was just what he had to become for now.

By midmorning he had cleared a full bed of overgrown shrubs near the eastern wall.

Sweat soaked through his shirt, dirt packed under his fingernails.

He straightened to catch his breath and that was when Joshua's voice cut across the garden.

"What is this?"

Larry turned.

Joshua stood a few feet away, staring down at the cleared bed with open disgust.

"I cleared it like I was told, sir."

"You cleared it?" Joshua's voice rose.

"This was supposed to be reshaped, not stripped bare. You've ruined the whole design my father wanted here."

"Nobody told me…."

The slap landed before Larry finished the sentence, it was hard enough to snap his head sideways, hard enough that his ears rang from it.

"You must be mad," Joshua snapped, "thinking gardening like that is acceptable. Look at this mess you've made."

Larry stood there, jaw throbbing, forcing his hands to stay loose at his sides instead of curling into the fists every instinct screamed for.

"I'm sorry, sir. I'll fix it."

"You'll fix nothing." Joshua turned toward two guards standing near the garden path.

"Hold him."

The guards moved fast, gripping Larry's arms before he could react, pinning him in place, and Joshua stepped forward with his fist already c****d.

The first punch caught him across the cheekbone.

The second landed square in his ribs, right where the bruises from two nights before hadn't finished healing.

Joshua kept going, repeatedly, almost bored in the way he threw each punch, like this was simple maintenance rather than cruelty.

Larry absorbed it.

He locked his jaw and took every hit, tasting blood, feeling his lip split, feeling one eye already beginning to swell shut, and he said nothing.

Because saying anything now would only prove Joshua right about something.

By the time Joshua finally stopped,

His breathing was a little harder than before, Larry's face was slick with blood.

His one eye was swollen and nearly closed, ribs screaming with every breath.

"Clean this up properly this time," Joshua said, straightening his sleeves. "Or next time I won't have the guards hold you back before I finish."

He walked off without a second look, the guards releasing Larry's arms and following behind him, leaving Larry alone in the ruined garden bed, swaying on his feet before he finally dropped to his knees in the dirt.

He knelt there a moment, breathing hard, blood dripping steadily from his split lip into the soil beneath him.

Then he heard a small sound.

It was barely audible, coming from somewhere behind the hedge to his left.

A sob, quickly muffled.

He turned his head, and there she was.

Lira knelt a few feet away, half-hidden behind the hedge line, hand pressed over her mouth like she was trying to hold the sound in, eyes were wide and glassy with tears she hadn't let fall yet.

Larry's chest seized.

It was ten years since he'd seen her face, and here she was.

She was thinner than he remembered, and older in a way that had nothing to do with time passing normally.

She was dressed in a plain gray servant's uniform, her hair was pulled back tight, her eyes carried something haunted that hadn't been there the last time he saw her clawing at a car window screaming his name.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, voice trembling.

"He's always like that. You must be the new gardener."

Larry nodded, not trusting his voice yet, his throat was tight with everything he wasn't allowed to say.

"Let me get you cleaned up," she said, rising and moving toward him carefully, like she had learned exactly how to move around this estate without drawing attention.

She crouched beside him, pulling a cloth from her apron pocket, dipping it into a small bucket of water left near the garden shed, and began wiping the blood from his face with a gentleness that nearly undid him completely.

Every part of him wanted to grab her hands, wanted to say her name, wanted to tell her it was him.

That he had come for her finally, that the wait was over.

His whole body ached with the effort of not doing it.

But he knew what would happen if he did.

One wrong word, one sign of recognition caught by the wrong set of eyes watching from a window, and everything he had built toward this moment would collapse.

It could get worse and it could get her killed before he ever had the chance to get her out.

So he stayed silent, letting her clean the blood from his split lip, letting her dab carefully around his swollen eye.

He studied her face up close for the first time in six years, memorizing every detail he had missed.

The small scar near her eyebrow that hadn't been there before, the hollow tiredness behind her eyes that used to hold nothing but light.

"Thank you," he said finally, his voice rough, careful to keep it flat and unfamiliar.

"You'll get used to it here," Lira said quietly, not meeting his eyes, wringing the bloodied cloth out into the bucket.

"Everyone does eventually or they don't last long."

She rose to leave, and for one brief second her eyes lifted and met his directly, something flickering behind them, gone as quickly as it appeared.

Larry watched her walk away across the garden, her back was straight, her steps were careful.

She disappeared back into the house that had swallowed her whole for six long years.

He stayed kneeling in the dirt a moment longer, blood drying on his face, and made himself a silent promise all over again.

*Not much longer, Lira. I'm here now. I won't fail you again.*