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I never officially asked if I could be her roommate. It was just unspoken. After being apart from each other for so long, I couldn’t imagine us wanting to be apart ever again. Raven went on a few dates, but I didn’t.
It just…didn’t feel right.
I thought about him often, wondering if someone had replaced me in his bed, if he was back to his French whores.
I wondered if he still thought about me. Often. Occasionally. Or not at all.
I expected retribution for what we’d done, but as the weeks trickled by, I started to wonder if it was really over. The camp was destroyed. The girls were free. It was too much work to start the business up again, so they must have chosen to retire.
I couldn’t picture a man like Fender retiring.
Raven walked through the door after work, carrying a bag of takeout. “Hungry?”
No. “Sure.” I left the couch and joined her at the kitchen island. We grabbed utensils and napkins then ate across from each other. “So, how’d your date go the other night?” We lived together, but there were times when we didn’t see each other because of our work schedules.
She shrugged. “Eh.”
“Eh doesn’t sound good.”
“There was just no chemistry.” She sliced her fork into the lasagna and scooped it into her mouth.
I pushed my food around with my fork, still missing the food from the palace even though I’d left months ago. Food never tasted as good. Wine was never strong enough. My bed was never warm. Arousal was never the same either. Attractive men hit on me at the café all the time, but their numbers were always tossed into the wastebin.
“You haven’t dated at all.” She took a bite then watched me as she chewed.
Like a deer in the headlights, I froze. Accusation blanketed me, like she was trying to make a point. My eyes moved down to my food, and I sliced my fork through the layers of pasta, sauce, and cheese. “Yeah, I…” My voice drifted away when I heard the sound of heavy footfall against the hardwood in the hallway.
Raven turned at the sound, the noise immediately triggering the same memories that jumped into my mind. Even though we had been in different cabins, we’d experienced the same terror, the sound of those heavy boots approaching the front door.
I held my breath and waited for the boots to move past our door.
But they stopped right outside, the shadow of the feet visible in the crack underneath the door.
Raven immediately spun and pulled out two knives from the drawer. One was slid across the surface of the counter to me. “Just like you did with the executioner, alright?”
I gripped the knife and nodded, but I was terrified, just like I had been on that cold night.
Raven grabbed my hand and pulled me behind the kitchen island so they wouldn’t see us.
They tried the knob discreetly, and then the knob turned slightly and shifted, like they were picking it the way Raven had done in the camp.
My heart pounded. The anxiety hit. But I gripped the knife tighter because I knew it would be either them or us—and it wouldn’t be us.
The door opened, and their boots stepped inside. There were three of them, as far as I could tell. One gave orders in French before the other two scattered, searching for us throughout the apartment.
I peeked around the corner at the door, hoping we could sneak out of the apartment. But the guy remained in place, blocking our exit. Raven moved around me then inched around the kitchen island, getting closer and closer to him so she could lunge out and catch him off guard.
I held my knife at the ready.
She went for it and slammed her blade into his stomach.
“Ahh! Bitch!”
I sprinted around the island and jumped on him, stabbing him just the way I did with the executioner. He collapsed to the floor in a bloody mess while the other two ran to us.
“Go!” Raven shoved me out the door.
I fell but quickly got to my feet, leaving the blade behind. But then I stopped.
Two men were stationed at each end of the hallway.
Raven knocked into me and grabbed my hand to prepare to run. But when she saw what we were up against, she stilled.
The two men stepped over their dead comrade and walked into the apartment, yelling in French.
We shouldn’t have gone back to the camp.
It was a mistake—a big fucking mistake.
Raven held on to me, protecting me even though there was nothing she could do.
The men marched toward us and grabbed Raven first. “Fucking cunt.” They shook her by the arms then threw her down. “You thought we wouldn’t come for you?” He pressed a boot to her back. “Tie up this bitch.”
Ropes were bound around her wrists, right there in the middle of the hallway, like they didn’t care if they were seen by anybody.
