Guardian (Sequel to Fearless)

Chapter Fifty One

Elizabeth hadn't stayed long in Hench's office after that, only long enough to share updates before returning to the military entourage she'd arrived with. The new information unsettled Rhalla to a degree that made her stomach turn knots. By Elizabeth's account, the number of captives had over quadrupled since she'd been there. That meant five hundred --at the very least-- women were being trafficked out. Including Sunny. Oh, Sunny.

Hench almost felt guilty at the fact that she'd been able to get free when Sunny hadn't gotten the same treatment. She cast the feeling away. She was going to save them all. That oath was just about the only thing kept the powerful Rhalla from absolutely losing her shit and smashing everything in the room.

When did I get such a terrible temper? she thought to herself. She'd been a relatively calm person once she'd regained her mind from the savagery of living in the wilds. She had far since entertained the thought that she was entirely level-headed. That was shit now. Rhalla couldn't even remember the last time she was at an even keel.

For the past few months, she felt she was constantly alternating between complete enraged barbarian and a weeping, gods damned namby-pamby. Her best lately hadn't even been good, as her best was being a complete milksop when it came to Iris. Something about that girl made her heart grow in size, and she couldn't help but be overly proud at everything her little sister did.

Hench's lips twitched, and an odd desire passed through her. A vice she hadn't visited for quite some time surged up and took hold of her. She wasn't going to act on it... but then she remembered Sunny and why the fuck not? There was no one to tell her no and she had time before the meeting began. Hench opened her bottom drawer and ruffled through her things to find an old friend hidden at the bottom: a smoking pipe.

She took it between her fingers and stared at it intently. After a second, she laid it down on the desk in front of her and found what little she had left of her smoke-root. It wasn't a drug, per se, like fiddler's weed. All it had ever done was calm her. Hench stuffed the pipe and took it between her teeth. She used a sheet of parchment and her desk candle to light the thing. She sat back, propped her large boots on her desk, and breathed in her personal fumes.

Ah, fuck all of this. She thought to herself. Just fuck it. She let out a smoky breath. She didn't have time to even enjoy the taste.

Two loud raps came at her office door. Not even a moment's peace at this sodding place. "What the hell do you want?" came her response, though it was more an exasperated one than an angry one.

The door opened to reveal Cane, one of her two best mates here. He was only half the size of Brawler, and not nearly as bald... but he was still as tough as nails and smart to boot. He was a secretary of sorts here at the sanctuary.

He shut the door behind him and narrowed his eyes at Hench. "That's bad for you."

"Uh huh," Rhalla took another pointed draw, just for his sake. "Remind me again, and I'll show you what's bad for you." It was an empty threat, one that made Cane snort. Hench finally took her feet off her desk and leaned forward. "What can I do for you? Why are you here, lad?"

"Meeting starts in half an hour. Whole sanctuary is gathering in the Great Hall now. Master sent me to make sure you're ready," he answered, but then narrowed his gaze. When he saw Hench take yet another huff, he had to ask. "What happened?"

"What do you mean what happened?" The smoke danced around her lips.

"You're smoking again," he pointed out. "You stressed?" He took a seat.