Chapter 2

Kimberley Oliver POV:

The sour stench of sweat and stale beer clung to the brute's clothes, turning my stomach as I stripped the filthy trousers off his heavy frame.

I dragged Cletus by his ankles toward the wooden bed.

This body lacked the raw muscle I was used to, and my biceps burned with sharp, stinging exhaustion by the time I hoisted his two-hundred-pound deadweight onto the stained mattress.

Next came Brenda.

I gripped the hem of her black maid uniform, tearing the fabric down the seam until she was completely bare. I hauled her onto the bed, arranging her limp arms around Cletus's neck and slinging his heavy leg across her bare hips in an unmistakable tangle of sweaty limbs.

To finish the scene, I grabbed a half-empty jug of sour blackberry wine from the rickety side table and tipped it across the sheets, letting the dark red liquid pool like the messy remnants of a drunken orgy.

The hurried clatter of boots and the crackle of pine torches echoed from the courtyard outside.

They were coming.

I hurried to the shadowed corner between the wardrobe and the crumbling wall. I dragged my fingernails through my tangled silver hair, making it a wild, disheveled mess, then pinched my thighs hard enough to bruise, forcing hot tears to well up in my eyes.

I pulled my knees tightly against my chest, lowered my chin, and let my shoulders tremble like a cornered rabbit facing a pack of wolves.

"Move! Break the latch!" Gertrude's shrill, grating voice carried through the oak panels. "The shameful little whore is inside with her street mongrel! Let the whole pack see what kind of trash Jeremiah left behind!"

A heavy boot slammed into the weakened wood.

The door burst inward with a splintering crash, bouncing off the stone wall and showering the entryway with dust.

Gertrude marched into the room like a vulture spotting fresh carrion, flanked by five armed house guards holding flaming torches and two stout washerwomen.

Her broad, heavily powdered face was twisted in triumphant malice.

"Kimberley, you wretched disgrace! Tonight the Oliver family strips you of your name and beats you within an inch of—"

The words choked in her throat.

The bright orange glare of the torches illuminated the bed, painting every inch of pale, naked flesh in stark relief.

There lay Brenda and Cletus, wrapped together in a grotesque, naked embrace, surrounded by dark stains and discarded clothing.

Gertrude's watery yellow eyes bugged out of their sockets. Her jaw went slack, the heavy layers of white cosmetic powder cracking around her gaping mouth.

"What... what is this?" she shrieked, her voice cracking into a high-pitched squeal. "Brenda? Cletus?"

A muffled snicker broke out among the guards behind her. Two of the men cleared their throats, hastily averting their gazes from the maid's exposed backside while still trying to steal a look.

From the dark corner, I let out a tiny, broken sob.

"Aunt... please..." I whimpered, keeping my voice raspy and choked with terror. "They... they broke in... they went crazy..."

Gertrude spun around, staring at me huddled in the shadows.

Her expression was pure disbelief. I was certain she remembered personally slipping a lethal dose of paralytic powder into my tea just three hours ago. By all accounts, I should have been pinned beneath that thug, weeping and ruined.

"You... you little monster!" she hissed, pointing a quivering, ring-laden finger at my face. "What did you do?"

Before she could step forward, a woman stepped out from behind the guards.

Martha Hayes, the second branch's favored concubine and Gertrude's primary enforcer in the household, narrowed her sly eyes.

"Madam, do not listen to her lies," Martha said smoothly, stepping into the light with a cruel smirk. "This wolfless runt must have used some vile hedge-witch poison on them! Look at Sadie and Ruby—they are strong enough to drag her to the cells right now. We will beat the truth out of her before the Crown Prince arrives."

Gertrude grasped at the lifeline like a drowning dog.

"Yes! Sadie! Ruby!" she barked, her flabby jowls quivering with venom. "Bind this filthy creature! Drag her to the dungeon and hang her by her wrists until she confesses to bewitching my servants!"

Two massive, barrel-chested servants stepped forward from the back of the escort.

Sadie and Ruby were notorious in the estate for beating young maidservants with leather laundry paddles. Both carried thick hemp ropes, their sneering faces lit by the firelight as they stalked toward my corner.

"Get up, little lady," Sadie grunted, reaching out a massive, calloused hand to seize my torn collar. "You're going to regret waking up today."

I kept my head down, letting my body shake with pathetic spasms.

But beneath the shadow of my silver hair, my tears dried instantly, replaced by a gaze as cold as arctic ice.