Broken Arrow

'affections' lay elsewhere — or at least her obsession. With Robert. With his downfall. With his death.

Tanek had even let her have a turn with the irons, sweet man that he was. Her father's second, and now her protector. They'd hardly had a chance to talk since meeting earlier that day, but they hadn't really needed to. Tanek recognised her almost immediately, knew that she was from the great man's stock. And that allegiance continued even after Daddy was gone. Murdered by Robert and his followers; including Jack. It brought her great satisfaction to torture the latter, chasing any last doubts from his mind that she might be talked around or turned.

Or be his.

'Y-You… traitorous s-slut,' Jack spat through clenched teeth, love turning to hatred.

She studied his face again, then she kissed him — because she knew that would cause more pain than she ever could with the irons. Adele bit his lip as she pulled away, laughing as the blood dribbled down Jack's chin. 'Poor, deluded idiot,' she said in her true accent, the one she'd been so careful to conceal during her time playing the helpless heroine.

'Where are the others going?' Tanek asked. Maybe he was uncomfortable with the way the session was going. Maybe he was just jealous. Was he hers for the taking as well? Adele had already observed the way The Tsar had been looking at her. But his time would come soon enough, she understood that. At some point she and Tanek would rule this army, or rather she would — with Tanek by her side. Whether that was as her willing slave, bodyguard or lover — or all three — remained to be seen.

'I saw how this went in Reservoir Dogs. Go screw yourself, pal,' Jack breathed. That earned him a slap in the face. Adele could still taste the copper in her mouth as she continued to watch Tanek at work; now picking precise spots on Jack's body and hammering in horseshoe nails. It wouldn't kill him, but would deliver the maximum amount of lasting pain. Tanek hammered them home until Jack passed out. Then he threw a bucket of cold water over him.

But they were getting nowhere. 'He'll never talk in the time we've got left,' Adele said, and Tanek could see that she was right. Given a couple of days, he could get anyone to talk, even someone as loyal as Jack. But The Tsar was breathing down their necks and, like it or not, he called the shots.

'Let me try a different tack.' She brushed a finger over one of the nails. 'If you'll pardon the pun.'

When Jack was awake, Adele ran a sharp fingernail down his cheek. 'If you don't tell us where your little friends have gone, we will execute Mary.'

Looking at her through a haze of anguish, Jack spluttered, 'Don't have her… Mark said…'

'Oh, in spite of my best efforts she's still alive. Just. But how long she stays that way depends on you, my dearest Jack.'

'How do I know you're telling the truth?'

She couldn't help but smile at that. 'You don't, mon cheri. But you have my word as a De Falaise that she will die if you do not co-operate. Now, that really does mean something. That is important to me.'

He thought about this for a second or two, weighing everything up and coming to the conclusion that if she'd done all this to avenge her father, then she would never take his name in vain.

'Tell us what we need to know,' she'd pressed.

So, hanging his head in shame, he did.

She remembered the shame.

The nights lying awake as he snored beside her. Spent, after he'd done whatever he pleased with her. Of all the places the soldiers could have stuck her.

Focus on Clive Jr, not the room. Not the bedroom where De Falaise kept you locked up, where they are keeping you locked up right now.

Gwen screwed her eyes shut, then opened them. It was just a room, just a room in the castle. At least it was on the ground floor, with no chance of rockets hitting the wall. Not that there was any fighting going on anymore. The Tsar's forces had won, swiftly and confidently.

Perhaps he'll be like the Frenchman, her mind whispered. Do you think he'll want to play games, as well? Dress you up and pretend, while you lay there, catatonic?

Gwen felt sick to her stomach. If Tate was here right now, she might just put her hands around his neck and squeezed. Reverend or no Reverend.

But it could be worse. She was still alive, and so was her son — her one connection to home, to New Hope, to Clive.

Could be in the same state as Mary, she said to herself. Gwen had seen her being carried in, helped by Lucy, the woman who'd assisted when Clive Jr was born. She'd been training as a nurse. And Mary looked like she needed one, looked like she was barely hanging on to life. Gwen had exchanged a brief look with Lucy as they'd passed, and could see pure terror in the woman's eyes. Like she knew it, too. Like she wasn't sure she could pull Mary through.

Gwen had been bundled into the room then, the door locked behind her. As far as she could tell there weren't many other survivors, unless they were being held in different parts of the castle? Perhaps The Tsar had shot them all?

She wondered what might have happened to Jack, Mark, Sophie… and, yes, Tate. She did still care about him, in spite of herself. Were they all dead, or in the same state as Mary?

But the room. Oh God this room.

It looked different; had no bed in it for a start and had been turned back into some sort of office. Probably where Robert organised his little missions. Just who did he think he was, appointing himself the guardian of this land, withholding vital things like weapons from people who just wanted to protect themselves? Leading suicide squads of young men to their doom? He was lucky they'd go with him, though she had to admit he had a way of sucking people in. Didn't work on her, of course. Too bloody-minded.

Gwen rocked Clive Jr on her knee. 'I won't let anything happen to you, sweetheart. Not while there's still breath in my body.'

The door lock clicked and Gwen jumped. She watched as the handle slowly turned. When the door opened she felt a lump rise in her throat.

'Remember me?' said the man standing there.

Gwen said nothing.

'I had to see if it was true, that you were back.' He grinned, but it came out more like a leer. A leer that stretched the scar across his jawline tight.

'Jace,' she said.

'That's right,' he chuckled. 'You haven't forgotten me, then?'

How could she? He'd been her means of escape, the guard posted to keep an eye on her. She'd lured him inside, then stolen his clothes and knocked him unconscious with the butt of his own gun.

'But you were-'

'A prisoner? Just like you were back then? Fucking locked away when I hadn't even done nothin'.'

Is that what you really believe? Yes, I think it is.

'Well, the new boss around here's letting all of the prisoners free who want to work for him. Good old Tanek vouched for me.'

Shit, he's here as well? One big, happy family reunion.

'Hey, it'll be just like the old days, 'cept for the fact you've got a sprog now, eh?'

Gwen stood, holding Clive Jr close to her. 'If you go near him, I'll-'

Jace pulled out a pistol and levelled it at her. 'You'll what, Duchess?'

Her eyes were fixed on the gun. Gwen was keenly aware that he'd pull the trigger in a heartbeat. He had a grudge not only against her, but this whole place.

'Now, take it easy and everything will be fine.' Jace's eyes were crawling downwards, over the front of her jumper, just as they had that day when she'd deliberately enticed him into the room. He'd been distracted then, the horny little shit, and she'd been able to get the better of him. How was she supposed to do that now, holding Clive Jr and with a handgun pointed at her?