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“I am really your king.”
“That’s what a bad man would say.”
“That’s right.”
“You are not helping!”
“I’m rescuing you, Paigelynn. I put my life on the line for you. I killed three people who were prepared to hurt you or let you be hurt. I’m on the run, under an assumed identity, and I have no idea how to get out of this mess the people behind your training have created.”
“My training?”
“Yes.”
“You’re my king.”
A sharp right makes the van lean a bit, the thump of bodies against the van sides making a sickening sound. Slick and viscous, blood provides a morbid lubricant.
“I am your king. But the people who have kept you captive and taught you for all these years weren’t always honest.”
She inhales with a shocked sound. “Like Rudy?”
“Yes.”
“You mean there are others?”
“Of course.”
“This – this Basher man?”
“He’s just a hired goon.”
“Goon?”
“Bad man.”
“Oh.” As the conversation continues, Paigelynn shifts in her seat, body language changing as she becomes more immersed in the topic. “How do I know who is bad and who is good?”
“That is a question we all ask ourselves.”
“Surely you know the answer if you are our king!”
I want to tell her to cut the crap. No one is this naive.
And yet she is.
My God, she really is.
“Paigelynn, do you remember the exact moment you realized Rudy was breaking the rules?”
She tenses. “Yes.”
“How did you feel?”
“Tingly and terrified.”
That’s not what I meant, but now I’m even more intrigued.
“Were you worried? Angry? Did you feel betrayed?”
