Page 27 of The Only Way Out Is Up

“You heard me.”

“I—”

“It is possible you misunderstand your position,” Pader interrupts. “You have two commodities to sell: your name, and your body. I know well what your name is worth, but my family did not get where we are today by half measures. I do not accept merchandise without a thorough inspection.” His deep-set eyes are hard. “Off. Now.”

Behind the sofa, I cringe, waiting for the explosion. Waiting for Ky to rip his cock off.

Instead, very slowly, she lowers her head and starts to worry at one long glove.

Pader smiles under his mustache and fingers the gold necklace that hangs heavy on his chest. Ky takes her time, but he doesn’t seem to mind. She pulls off one glove, then the other, dropping them in crumpled heaps on the floor. Then, with a final glance at Pader, she reaches behind her back and undoes whatever arcane magic holds that filmy dress against her body. It falls away, puddling around her feet. The outer folds take a few seconds to float gently downward.

Underneath she’s wearing only sheer silk bottoms. Her figure is almost boyish, narrow hips, toned muscles, slight breasts. I reflexively look away for a moment, but my eyes are drawn back as she steps over the fallen dress and looks Pader in the eye. He’s only a few centimeters taller than she is.

“Well?” she says. I can hear a quiver in her voice, but it’s well masked by a challenging tone. “Do I pass inspection?”

“Perhaps.” Pader gives a snort. “I admit I prefer a woman to be a bit more womanly. I shall have to make a closer examination.”

He reaches for her. Her hand comes up, snake-fast, and slaps his away. The crack of skin on skin seems far too loud in the quiet room.

“We’re not married yet,” Ky snaps. “You haven’t signed the deal. Does your family expect merchandise without payment?”

Something astonishing is happening to Pader’s face. Color rises up his neck, a red so deep it’s nearly purple, climbing rapidly over his cheeks and down his nose. His jaw clenches so tight I think his teeth are going to crack.

“You,” he gets out with an effort, “do not say no to me.”

“You haven’t—” Ky begins.

Pader’s thick-fingered hand snaps up, shockingly quick, and fastens itself around her throat. Ky’s words cut off into a gurgle as he squeezes.

“You never say no to me!” Pader roars. He’s lifting her off the ground, her toes kicking and scrabbling, barely touching the carpet. Ky’s mouth gapes like a dying fish, her cheeks flushing nearly the same color as his, eyes bulging. “You need to be taught a lesson!”

Kill him, I urge her silently. Come on, come on. She could wrap her legs around him and twist, kick him in the balls, break his elbow with a sharp backhand. Get her nails in his eyes, rip that bulbous nose off his face. Kill him, kill him!

She doesn’t do any of that. Her eyes are desperate, but there’s something else there, too. Something ugly.

Resignation. Defeat.

[Query?]

I meant for my thoughts to reach Ky, but of course Star is the only one listening inside my head. I can see him twitching forward under the cabinet.

Ky’s eyes are going dull. Her hands hang limp at her sides, fingers twitching. Her feet kick weakly.

Kill him.

Star skitters forward. Pader, intent on his prey, sees nothing. Star climbs him as easily as he climbed the wall outside. The big man is just starting to wonder about the prickling along his back when the runic makes it to the nape of his neck. One manipulator comes out and slides sideways in a fast, economical motion, the razor-sharp blade gliding smoothly through skin, fat, and muscle. Another heartbeat and a red torrent sprays out, painting Ky’s face in brilliant crimson.

ELEVEN

Pader gurgles and sags, gently depositing Ky on her feet as he kneels in front of her. His mouth is twisting, trying to speak, but I can’t make out the words. The weakening spray slicks the rest of Ky’s body, turning her breasts and stomach gory. Pader’s hand stays locked around her throat for a long moment, until at last he topples sideways and his fingers slip away. Ky takes shuddering, convulsive breaths, her hands clutching her neck.

I worm my way out from behind the sofa. Fuck if I know what to do now, but I have to do something. Ky doesn’t notice me, doesn’t seem to be seeing anything, her eyes staring blankly into the middle distance. I try touching two fingers to her bare, bloody shoulder.

That was not the right thing to do, apparently. She twists with all the sudden violence I remember from last time, fist swinging for my face. I try to duck away, lose my footing in the blood, and end up sprawled on the gory carpet. She freezes there, arm outstretched, gasping for breath. Her eyes meet mine and abruptly they regain focus.

You, she mouths.

“Me,” I say weakly.