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A giant figure stood over the blonde girl’s bed on the other side of the room where the moonlight barely reached.
“Get off of her!” I roared as I ran toward them.
I raised my gun to the back of the man, but confusion stopped me when I saw Petra sitting in the shadow beside her cot with her knees drawn up, pressed against her chest, her nightgown stretched down over them—the man in her bed was on top of someone else.
I raised my gun to the back of one head.
“Get to your feet, soldier!”
Hands rose in surrender, and as I took a few steps back to put space between us, the man stood slowly and turned around. A malicious smile twisted Private Masters’ features; blood, more black than red in the moonlight, covered the front of his shirt and stained his hands.
I glanced down at the unmoving body on the cot lying in a pool of blood; he was exposed, his pants pooled around his knees; his bright green eyes stared off at nothing. It was Private Brock, the soldier I’d commissioned to guard the room at night while I slept.
“Just doin’ your job, sir,” Private Masters said with thick sarcasm and an even thicker smile.
I looked to and from him and Private Brock, trying to piece together what had happened.
“You have ten seconds to explain yourself,” I warned, “or I put a bullet in your head.” I kept the gun trained on Private Masters.
“Well, while you were getting your beauty sleep, sir,” he began, “Private Dumbass here was fuckin’ one of Rafe’s potential wives. Now how do you think Rafe’ll react to that?” He pointed at me with a bloody finger; his smile turned into a grin, revealing the gap between his yellowed teeth. “You’re the one he’ll be looking to for retribution now—when he finds out, of course.”
I stepped into Private Masters’ space and shoved the barrel of my gun underneath his chin.
“Are you threatening me?” I growled, sweat dripped from my hairline. “Because if you are and you really want to dance this dance with me, I’ll make sure you’re buried in the same pit Private Brock here will be buried in come the morning.” I shoved the gun deeper into his throat, forcing his boxy head backwards on his tree-trunk neck.
Private Masters smiled, but he backed down.
I held my position before slowly dropping the gun.
“You aren’t even supposed to be in this building—my building,” I said, “much less on this floor with these two particular women.” I glanced at Petra, and then at Thais, for the first time wondering which of the two women Private Brock had been screwing.
“I was only protecting my property, sir,” Private Masters said, his dark eyes passing over Thais. “I didn’t trust him or any other man here to be alone with these women—and I was right not to.”
I looked at the body on the cot, and then again at Petra who’d slept there. “Did you let Private Brock into your bed?” I asked her, assuming she was the one.
“What does that matter?” Private Masters said with laughter. “Either way it happened, it happened, and Rafe won’t want her.”
I kept my attention on Petra still trembling on the floor; she wouldn’t answer.
“Yes, the bitch let him fuck her!” Private Masters interjected. “Since you really want to know: I’ve been watching him for three days, listening to the two of them whispering like sex-crazed love birds with an ass fetish.”
“Three days?” I asked.
“Yeah—I wanted to make sure it was that one he was talking to”—he pointed at Petra, and then looked over at Thais again and smiled—“because if mine had turned out to be such a whore, I wouldn’t want her as my wife.”
I glanced at a traumatized Thais. She wouldn’t even raise her eyes, and her hands were still clutched against her ears like a child trying to shut out the fighting of two violent parents.
I turned to Petra then, but said to Private Masters, “Escort her to the brothel. And when you’re done with that, come back here and get rid of this body—I don’t want it stinking up my building.”
“No! Please! I don’t want to go to the brothel! I want to be the Overseer’s wife!” Petra pleaded. She crawled across the floor on her hands and knees toward me, and she grabbed my leg but I stepped back. “I’m begging you, sir!”
Private Masters lifted her into the air and tucked her underneath his arm. She kicked and screamed until his hand came down across the side of her face and stunned her into submission.
“Why send her to the brothel?” he asked. “Rafe’ll find out what she did for sure then.”
“Because I’m going to tell him myself,” I said. “Better that I don’t present him a woman with the knowledge that she’d already been violated by one of his men, don’t you think?”
Private Masters snarled and rounded his chin, trying to muster what pride he had left.
