Eight Years as His Bodyguard

Chapter 6

The moment she saw the object, Ava's eyes flew open in shock.

She cut in before Eric could speak. "No! That's mine!"

It was the first gift she'd received after leaving the slave market.

That day, Daniel had told her, "Everything will get better, Ava. Your future will be one of daily freedom and brightness."

He'd said butterflies must struggle free from their cocoons before becoming butterflies, but once they succeed, they become the sun itself. He hoped she wouldn't remain trapped in an alley like him. When she soared, she could taste freedom for them both.

After Daniel's death, when the house was taken, this became the only remnant of him she could protect.

Now Ava's lips quivered in desperation as she reached to reclaim it, only to be violently restrained.

"Ava, have you forgotten my words?" Eric's voice carried a barely concealed threat, but Ava was too frantic to care.

Her gaze remained locked on the cocoon butterfly until a brutal kick to her knees sent her buckling to the floor.

Then, in a sickeningly sweet tone, Eric added. "Of course, from now on, everything here is yours. Take whatever you want."

Hearing him casually give away her possession, Ava clenched her fists, eyes welling with furious tears.

"Mr. Harris, it's just a worthless scrap. Let Ms. Smith pick something else." She shot Eric a pleading look, begging for his help just once.

Instead of relenting, his expression turned colder at her defiance.

"Ava, I won't repeat myself. Know your place." His words struck her like a slap. His meaning was unmistakable.

She was just a bodyguard. At best, a convenient f**k. She didn't get to negotiate.

Ava clenched her teeth, realizing her foolishness in seeking Eric's help. She'd known he was a beast all along, yet still played the vulnerable fool before him every time.

Her reaction drew a glint of triumph from Stella. With a calculated glance, she said, "Well, since Ms. Scott treasures this trinket so much, I'd hate to be unreasonable."

"Here's an idea. They say you're Norbridge's top female bodyguard, and I know some moves myself. Let's go a few rounds. Win, and I'll return it."

Ava agreed immediately.

Years in the slave arena, brawling past countless bodyguards to earn her place at Eric's side. She trusted few could match her.

But as she stood, Eric hauled her back. "Don't."

Her laugh was razor-edged, eyes glacial as they met his. He shielded Stella for his own gain, but she, too, had something worth protecting.

Only in the courtyard did she faintly grasp his warning's meaning.

Whip—

The air split. Before she could brace, it was on her.

She caught it midair, only for the spikes to impale her palm. Blood welled as she choked out a groan.

Another lash split her side before she could react.

"You're fighting dirty, Ms. Smith," Ava managed through clenched teeth.

Stella's answering sneer was met with equal coldness from Eric's watching figure. Like she deserved this.

Then twin whips lashed out. Ava barely moved before the flogging drove her knees into stone. The whip seemed coated with salt, each lash bringing searing, bone-deep pain.

Her concussion hadn't fully healed when the whip struck her ear, and Ava's world was instantly swallowed by a deafening roar. She'd barely managed to shake her head before a kick sent her sprawling.

As she fell, she remembered the day Daniel brought her home—how she'd writhed under the whip's bite then, too.

But midway, the whip was suddenly seized, and a voice, steel-edged yet unexpectedly tender, declared, "She's mine."

The pain sent Ava's consciousness reeling, and for a moment she mistook Eric for Daniel.

Her gaze drifted toward him, her voice breaking with childlike hurt. "Daniel, why won't you save me?"

Only to receive an icy reply. "Ava, didn't you bring this upon yourself?"

The words still hung in the air when another stinging lash jolted her back to the present.

Looking up, she saw what Stella held, and white-hot fury exploded through her.

With the desperate strength of the dying, she gripped both whips with one hand, ignoring how the barbs tore through her palm, and lunged for Stella's throat.

A mere inch away, a vise-like grip clamped her wrist.

"You want to die, Ava?"