Kept By Her Obsessed Minotaurs

7. Mara

7

MARA

T he morning sun casts a harsh light on Garron's stony expression as he looms over me. His voice is a low rumble that shakes the very ground I sit on. "Your master already made an arrangement with us. Your little gold stash means nothing."

His words slice through me, sharp and unyielding. My mind races, desperation clawing at my throat. I look to Lazir, searching for some hint of reason in his amber eyes, but they're as cold and unreadable as ever. I turn to Calo, the one I'd foolishly hoped was an ally, but his gaze skitters away from mine, his jaw clenching in a clear dismissal of my silent plea.

Panic surges within me. I scramble backward. "No. No, that can't be true. I—" My protest is cut short by Garron's iron grip on my arm, his fingers biting into my flesh.

"Enough," he snarls, and there's a finality in his tone that chills me to the bone.

Lazir approaches, the frayed end of a rope dangling from his hand. I fight against their hold, my legs flailing, my heart pounding in my ears. Calo's hands join Garron's, his grip tentative yet unbreakable. "Don’t make this harder than it has to be," he mumbles, a hint of regret lacing his words, but he doesn't release me.

"You bastards!" I scream, my voice ragged with fury and fear. "You can't do this to me!" But they can, and they do. My feet are bound just as securely as my hands.

Garron's smirk is cruel as he says, "We already have." They toss me into the carriage, the slamming door echoing like a death knell in my ears.

Inside the carriage, the air is thick with the stench of old sweat and straw. I hurl myself against the walls, but the carriage lurches into motion, and I'm thrown to the floor, my bound limbs useless. The journey is a torturous blur of jostling movements and stifling heat, each bump on the road jarring my bones.

When the carriage finally comes to a halt, my mouth is dry, and my body aches with a deep, throbbing pain. The door creaks open, and Garron's hulking form fills the frame. His command is terse, his eyes warning me not to defy him. "Stay put."

I take in the squalor of the lowtown through the open door—a cacophony of hawkers and hagglers, the cloying stench of decay mingling with the aroma of cooking food. It's a world away from the cold elegance of Wlloza's estate, yet here I am, a captive once more.

I watch as the minotaurs confer amongst themselves, their voices too low for me to discern their words. Calo glances my way, his expression troubled, but he quickly averts his gaze. Lazir's gaze is inscrutable as ever, his thoughts hidden behind that stoic mask. And Garron—Garron's eyes are hard, his decision made.

As the three minotaurs finally step away from the carriage and into the bustling lowtown, I spring into action. My fingers fumble frantically with the ropes binding my wrists, nails scraping against the coarse fibers. Sweat beads on my brow as I work, my breath coming in sharp, shallow gasps.

Finally, by some miracle, the knots come undone, and the ropes fall away from my hands. I quickly untie the bindings at my feet, wasting no time. I slip out of the carriage and duck under a vendor's stall, my heart thundering in my ears.

Shouts erupt behind me—Garron's booming voice unmistakable. I don't dare look back. My feet pound against the cobblestones, my breath ragged as I weave through the throng of people. A glimpse over my shoulder reveals the three towering minotaurs pushing through the crowd, their forms impossible to miss.

Desperation fuels my every step as I dart into a narrow alley. The stench of rotting garbage stings my nose, but I don't stop. I find a barrel of rainwater and plunge my hands in, splashing the cool liquid over my face and arms to mask my scent.

The forest looms ahead at the other end of the alley, dark and foreboding. But I don't hesitate, plunging into the undergrowth.

Branches whip at my face and arms, the uneven ground treacherous beneath my feet. The sound of pursuit fades, but my relief is short-lived. A rustle to my left sends me spinning around, my hand instinctively reaching for a weapon I don't have.

Dark elves step out from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with cruel intent. One of them sneers, drawing a wicked-looking blade. "You've made this far too easy," he taunts.

"Stay back!" I snap, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound brave. They circle me like wolves, their movements fluid and predatory. I lash out, my fist connecting with one's jaw, but another grabs me from behind, pinning my arms.

"Alive, they said," one of them murmurs, inspecting me with a smirk. "But they didn't say unharmed." I thrash against his hold, a scream tearing from my throat as the blade presses against my neck, the cold steel biting into my skin.

A roar suddenly splits the forest air, deep and primal. The elves falter, their heads snapping toward the sound. My heart lodges in my throat as the three minotaurs crash through the trees like an unstoppable force, Garron at the forefront. His axe cleaves through the nearest elf, blood spraying across the forest floor in a grisly arc. Chaos erupts. Lazir moves with calculated precision, his twin blades flashing as he cuts down two more. Calo’s hammer swings in wide arcs, the impact shattering bones with sickening crunches.

In the confusion, I stumble free, my knees buckling beneath me. I watch in stunned silence as the minotaurs decimate the elves, their strength and ferocity unmatched. The last elf falls, Garron’s axe lodged in his chest. He yanks it free with a grunt, his gaze snapping to me, his eyes like chips of ice.

“You’re ours,” he growls, his voice low and menacing. “No one else gets the reward.”

My chest heaves, my body trembling not just from fear, but from the adrenaline coursing through my veins. “Please,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “I swear I’ll do whatever you want. Just… don’t turn me in. I’m telling the truth about the gold stash.” I can barely believe the words spilling from my lips, but desperation drives me on. “I swear it,” I say, my voice rising in desperation. “On my soul, I’ll serve you. However you want.”

He hesitates, his grip tightening on his axe, the muscles in his arm rippling with tension. I can see the war waging behind his eyes, the distrust battling with the promise of untold wealth.

“We accept,” Lazir interjects, stepping between us. His voice is calm, a stark contrast to the fury that still simmers in Garron’s gaze.

Garron’s glare shifts to Lazir, his fists clenching. “You don’t speak for me.”

Lazir doesn’t back down, his gaze steady and unwavering. “We made a decision,” he says, the certainty in his voice silencing any retort Garron might have mustered. “Calo and I. You’re not the only one in this.”

Garron’s jaw tightens, a muscle ticking in his cheek, but he doesn’t argue further. The tension in the air is palpable, a tangible thing that wraps around us, binding us together in this precarious alliance.

My vision blurs, relief washing over me in overwhelming waves. I don’t even feel myself hit the ground as darkness takes me, the shock of the past few moments finally pulling me under.