Page 51 of Throne of Vengeance

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I’m about to call his name, but pause when his pants and boxers are pulled down to his knees. Instead of the penis I expected to see, there are…female genitals.

“Fucking shit. Jackpot, boss.” The guard grins. “It’s a woman.”

My incredulous gaze meets Aleksander’s, who lowers his eyes, a tear sliding down his cheek—or more accurately, her cheek.

She’s a woman. Aleksander has a been a woman all along.

I should’ve suspected it since the beginning considering her features, but she’s such an excellent guard, stronger than many of her male counterparts, that no one dared to question her gender, even when they joked about her looks.

“Have fun with her while I have fun with this one.” The bald guy runs his meaty fingers along my cheek.

The two other men flip Aleksander on her back, and something inside me snaps.

I grit my teeth, but I don’t open my mouth, not until I make sure Aleksander meets my gaze.

Now, I tell her.

Then I swallow the clog in my throat and open my mouth. Ever since that day I first gave Kyle a blowjob, I swore to never do it to any other man after him. Ever since that moment, I felt like every part of me belonged to him and him alone.

Now that I’m in the midst of this situation, I can only think of him and how much I wish he were here, because if he were, no one would ever touch me.

But since he’s not, I need to get this done myself.

As soon as the bald guy’s dick is inside my mouth, I bite down on it as hard as I can. A metallic taste explodes on my tongue. The guard by my side kicks me in the stomach so I release his boss.

I grunt as I push away from him. The bald man wails and I back up, using their distraction with their leader to reach Aleksander.

They’re too busy to notice me, one imprisoning her down and the other trying to shove his dick inside her. I use all my energy to kick the one holding her down and steal his gun.

Aleksander kicks the other one, then holds him in a headlock. As he screams, she steals his gun, then breaks his neck, the sickening crack echoing in the air.

I shoot one of the bald man’s minions in the leg, turn to the leader, and shoot him in the dick. Then one more time in the forehead, for good measure. We run out of there, back-to-back in case the others follow.

Aleksander holds her pants up with one hand and buttons them.

Wait, it’s not Aleksander, though.

“Is your name Aleksander?” I ask. “Do you prefer I call you that?”

“It’s Aleksandra,” she whispers, not meeting my gaze. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Any time.”

We sprint toward the nearest exit even though it feels like I’m about to collapse. My breathing is harsh and irregular, and the slightest movement feels like climbing a mountain. Both of us are panting by the time we hear distorted voices. They’re after us, and by the sound of the thudding footsteps, it seems as if the number doubled from when they first barged inside.

Aleksandra and I exchange a look and then we each hide behind a wall, across from one another. If we have to fight to the death, so be it.

We fire at the ones following us, then move positions so they don’t catch us. Our bullets are running out, though. At this rate, they will catch us again and it’ll be worse than the first time.

Bang!

Aleksandra and I freeze at the sound of the explosion. That was some sort of bomb. Sure enough, soon after, a multitude of gunshots follow.

No one is shooting at us anymore or following us, but the sound doesn’t cease.

Pop. Pop. Pop.

Then, we hear Russian voices. Aleksandra and I stare at each other and smile.

They came for us.

We carefully slide out of our hiding spot and follow the sound of the guns. Sure enough, Kirill and his men are at the front, eliminating anyone in their path. Damien is there, too, shooting out bullets like they’re candy, an ammunition belt slung casually over his shoulder.

My heart leaps out of my throat when I catch a glimpse of Kyle pushing a guard to the ground. He usually prefers sniping positions that are far away from any conflict. This is the first time he’s willingly gone into a battlefield.

He has three of the Albanians kneeling in front of him when his gaze meets mine.

They’re still as hypnotizing as ever, but they’re dark and enraged as if he’s been thrust into a different state of being. One where his main purpose is to kill and maim.

He places a gun at the back of the first guard’s head. “Did he touch you?”

I nod. He’s one of the two who held me down.


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