The Gadget: The Rondon Chronicles Book One by V. Timlin (speed reading book .TXT) 📕

the other two thugs. One of them lay sprawled on the cobblestones, face down. Nat was beating the other man’s head against the stone wall before letting him collapse next to his comrade.

Nat seized Anouk by her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

They broke into a run with Anouk clutching her katana. People jumped out of the way at the sight of the exposed weapon. Her heart hammered in her ears and tears burned her eyes. How had it come to this? Events were snowballing with increasing speed, and she was powerless to stop any of it. Not only did they have to catch Stalo without getting killed, they now had another nemesis to worry about—Madam Valeria.

She gritted her teeth, flogging her legs to get away from there. Her lungs burned, but she didn’t care. Nat’s broad back loomed in front of her like an emergency exit sign. She kept her eyes fixed on him and ran like hell.

After passing a few blocks, Nat slowed down and stopped. Anouk leaned against her knees, panting hard while Nat’s breathing normalised far quicker.

“Are you alright?” Nat looked at her, his brows furrowed with concern.

Anouk nodded, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Yeah.”

She took a handkerchief from her pocket and cleaned the blood off her sword. The simple task gave her time to gather herself. She shuddered. Apparently amputating hands holding guns was her speciality now. The one-eyed man would probably live if someone got him to a surgeon. Nevertheless, his missing hand would serve as a warning to Madam Valeria to leave Anouk alone. The thought gave her limited satisfaction.

Anouk sheathed her katana. “Is Madam Valeria always this persistent?”

Nat was purveying the scene, and his gaze stopped and focused on something. Anouk’s heart jumped. Had the madam sent more men after her? He waved at something, and Anouk turned to see what—a steam carriage headed their way. Anouk sighed in relief. He had signalled for a taxi.

“She’s persistent, alright,” Nat said.

“Well, let’s hope seeing her errand boy missing a hand will discourage her from further attempts.”

The taxi stopped next to them, and Nat opened its cabin door. He looked at Anouk and shook his head, his features dark. “Nope. She can buy thugs like those bastards for an hour with one of her girls.”

Anouk gaped at him, horrified. “You’re joking.”

“I’m afraid not. Now, climb in.”

She staggered up the step, almost hitting her head on the doorframe.

“The Royal Restroom,” Nat requested before boarding the vehicle after her.

She hugged herself tight, trying to stop her body from shaking. Her thoughts turned back to London and her former life. How carefree and safe it had been despite her mother’s death and the split with Owen at the worst possible moment. Overwhelming powerlessness hit her like a rugby player, knocking out her breath and tightening her throat.

“I miss home,” Anouk whispered. She leaned her head against the carriage’s wall and looked out of the window. Why had she confessed that? A warm hand touched hers, opening the floodgates.

“Hold me,” she said, sobbing. Nat moved to her and pulled her into his arms. Anouk pressed her face on his shoulder and cried for the second time in five days. He cradled her, offering his presence, support and companionship in silence.

Anouk pulled back after the tears had run out. “I’m sorry.” A dark, wet blotch on Nat’s shoulder made her wince. “And I ruined your coat.”

Nat shrugged, a soft smile on his face. “That’s fine.”

“You must be thinking I’m a massive wimp, which I probably am. It’s just that my life has been so sheltered and secure, and now suddenly…” She trembled. “Everyone wants me either dead or working as a prostitute.”

Nat took Anouk by her shoulders, levelling his eyes on hers. “You’re not a wimp, Anouk. It’s alright to be scared. And to be honest, you’ve managed remarkably well, considering the circumstances and your background. I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks.” She hesitated for a moment. “Are you ever afraid? Do you ever question yourself, that you can pull this off?”

Nat let go of Anouk’s shoulders and moved back to his side of the coach. “Sure, I get scared sometimes.”

Anouk’s eyebrows shot up. “You do?”

“Aye.” Nat smiled.

A smile briefly appeared on Anouk’s lips. It was good to hear Nat confessing he was afraid too. If not all the time, at least sometimes. Most of all, he hadn’t belittled her feelings.

“I doubt Stalo has such ignoble emotions as fear and self-doubt.”

Nat snorted. “Well, he’s special.”

“He was a brutal warlord?”

“Very.” Nat’s expression darkened.

“Tell me what happened… to your family.”

Nat turned to look out of the window. Anouk bit her lip. He didn’t want to talk about his family earlier when she had asked. It was clear he wouldn’t want to open up about it now either. She was about to apologise, but Nat shrugged and met her eyes.

He started with a low voice. “I was around thirteen years old. My father worked in a crystal mine close to our village; most of the village men did. It was a profitable mine. Stalo’s father, the warlord at that time, owned it like he owned most of our lands. He took a big portion of the profit, but let us keep enough to lead a decent life. He was hard, but just. Then the old lord died and Stalo inherited his title, lands, and fortune. Rumour had it that Stalo murdered his father, but there was no proof. He decided to keep all the profits the mine produced, leaving us nothing. The miners first sent a delegation to address the concerns.” Nat paused. Pain and vulnerability entered his dark eyes.

The cacophony of the traffic drifted inside loud and clear. The carriage stopped and Nat glanced out. With a sigh, he continued, “He whipped and hanged them as an example. That caused protests and strikes. Then one night Stalo attacked our village and burned it down, killing everyone, including my family. I happened to be in the backyard toilet, and I hid in the waste pit.” Nat looked