Chapter 13

  Unexpected Meetup and Rescue

  The guard stops just inside the doorway, turning to me with a hand raised."The Baron will speak with your master alone. You will wait here."

  Gerrick shoots me a quick look—part reassurance, part warning—before stepping inside. The doors close behind him with a heavy, muffled thud, leaving m alone in the wide, dimly lit hall.

  I lean back against the wall, letting my eyes wander over the carved paneling and faded portraits. The quiet hum of the manor surrounds me… until I hear it.Faint at first, almost hidden beneath the stillness:

  "Ah… ah… ah—no more, please… stop… ah… ah… ah—"

  The voice is feminine, breathless, but the tone isn’t just pleading—it’s pained. The sound seems to come from somewhere deeper in the manor, past the corridor’s far end.

  My heart gives a single, hard thump. I glance toward the guards stationed at the main junction—they haven’t moved, either too far away to hear or pretending not to.

  The voice comes again, just as faint, then falls into silence.

  I push off the wall, moving as quietly as i can along the corridor’s edge, keeping my steps light to avoid the creak of old wood. The sound draws me like a thread—faint, ragged breaths, a muffled plea, then nothing again.

  I round a corner into a narrower passage, and that’s when I see her.

  Luna.

  She’s just ahead, her lithe form half-hidden in shadow, moving with the kind of instinctive grace that makes no sound at all. I stop dead, eyes widening. I watched her slip into the bushes outside—how in the hell did she get this far inside the manor without a guard so much as blinking?

  She freezes mid-step, amber eyes locking onto mine. For a moment, neither of us moves. The dim lamplight catches the faint rise and fall of her chest, and I can see the sharp tension in her posture—like she’s caught between bolting and continuing whatever she came here to do.

  Somewhere deeper in the manor, the faint sound comes again—"Ah… ah… no more…"—and her ears flick toward it before snapping back to me.

  I hold her gaze, watching the subtle flick of her fingers as she shakes her head—once, sharp, deliberate. Then she raises her hand and makes a small, precise motion: two fingers pointing toward her own eyes, then sweeping toward the direction of the sound.

  Investigate. Together.

  It’s not exactly an invitation—it’s more like a reluctant allowance, a silent acknowledgment that im here now and she can’t just make me vanish. Her tail twitches low, her stance shifting to one ready to move.

  I give the faintest nod, careful not to draw attention from any unseen eyes. Luna waits until mr match her crouched, quiet pace before slipping forward again, hugging the wall. I follow, my footsteps muffled against the carpet runner.

  With every turn, the air feels heavier, the voices and movement of the manor fading behind us. Somewhere ahead, behind a set of ornate double doors, we hear it again—“No… no more…”—followed by the dull scrape of wood on stone, like a chair dragging.

  Luna stops just short of the doors, one ear angled toward the sound, her hand resting lightly on the frame.

  The words cut through the air like a blade."All you demi-human bitches are the same—can’t handle your betters. I should just blow my load in you and give you to the guards when I’m done."

  Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

  The voice is low, gruff, dripping with venom and authority. Even muffled through the door, it makes my stomach twist.

  Luna stiffens beside me, her claws flexing just enough to catch a glint of light. Her ears pin back flat against her head, and though her breathing is silent, I can feel the tension radiating from her like a drawn bowstring.

  For a moment, she doesn’t look at me—her eyes are fixed on the door, on the voice behind it. But then she glances sideways, just long enough for me to see the barely contained fury burning in her gaze. She wants to move. You can tell.

  The heavy scrape of a chair follows from inside, and there’s the sound of a body shifting on wood. Then—a muffled whimper.

  My hand shoots out, fingers closing gently but firmly around her forearm. Her muscles are tense as stone, ready to spring, and for a heartbeat I think she might just rip free.I lean in, and whisper a thin thread of sound. “We can’t. Not yet—”

  The words are cut short by the sharp, ugly crack of a slap from inside the room."I said open your damn mouth, you cat-eared bitch—or I’ll use your ass next."

  Luna’s ears flick back again, and I can feel her pulse hammering beneath my grip. Her breath comes in one sharp, silent exhale, almost like she’s trying to purge the sound from her body.

  My own stomach twists, heat rising in my chest. Every instinct says kick the door in now, but the rational part of my mind hisses warnings about guards, about what I could actually do once inside with nothing but a pocket knife.

  Inside, there’s another muffled whimper, then the sound of movement—boots scuffing across the floor, a chair’s legs grinding against stone.

  Luna’s gaze is locked on mine now, a silent demand in her eyes: Either we move, or we lose the chance.

  My pulse hammers so loud it nearly drowns out the memory—heat, dust, the concussive shock of explosions rolling over a ruined street. The sharp metallic sting of blood in the air.

  "Major Small! Use your knife!"

  The voice of my sgt roars through the chaos, and I feel the weight of an enemy pinned beneath me, struggling, snarling. My hand clenches around the blade, my muscles moving before my mind even catches up—sharp, practiced motions drilled into me by necessity, not choice.

  The vision snaps like a rubber band, and i'm back in the manor corridor, Luna’s amber eyes locked on mine.

  "If we do this," I whisper, voice low and steady, "we do it my way."

  Her ears twitch once—agreement.I count under my breath. One… two… three—

  The door bursts inward under our combined force, slamming against the wall. The scene sears into our vision instantly:

  A younger man—arrogant smirk frozen in shock—stands with his trousers half-down, a white-furred catgirl pinned to a heavy wooden chair. Her arms are bound, her legs tied to the legs of the chair, her body trembling as he forces himself down her throat.

  Her eyes are glassy, her fur matted from sweat and tears. She gags against him, gasping through her nose, but can’t turn away.

  The man turns his head toward me, his lips curling into something between a snarl and disbelief.

  I don’t hesitate.

  The man’s mouth opens—whether to shout, curse, or smirk again I don’t care—because I’m already moving. My hand slips into my pocket in one smooth motion, the familiar weight of the old knife pressing into my palm.

  My boots pound across the floor, and before he can react, I slam into him, driving him backward. The air leaves his lungs in a startled grunt as his back hits the floor hard.

  My knee pins his chest, the blade flashing once in the dim light before you drive it in deep, just under the ribs. His eyes widen, mouth gaping, but no sound comes out—just a wet gasp. I twist, sharp and clean, the way I learned when hesitation meant dying.

  By the time I pull the blade free, he’s gone slack beneath me, the last breath rattling out of him.

  Across the room, Luna is already at the catgirl’s side, her claws deftly slicing through the bindings at her wrists and ankles. The ropes fall away, and the girl curls in on herself, coughing violently, tears streaking down her cheeks. Her ears are flat, her voice hoarse as she gasps in air that isn’t choking her.

  Luna rests a hand lightly on her shoulder, murmuring something low and soothing in a tongue I don’t understand.

  The room smells of sweat, blood, and fear now.

  I wipe the blade quickly on the dead man’s shirt, my voice low but firm.

  "I don’t know who this is, but I’m going to hide the body. Luna—get her outside to the wagon and hide. I’ve got to get back to the hall and wait for Gerrick."

  Luna meets my eyes for a moment, no questions, no hesitation—just a sharp nod. She slips an arm under the white-furred girl’s to steady her, guiding her gently to her feet. The rescued catgirl still hasn’t spoken, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts, but she clings to Luna’s presence like it’s the only solid thing in the room.Without a word, Luna leads her toward the side door we noticed when we entered.

  Her tail flicks once in silent acknowledgment before they vanish into the corridor, their footfalls swallowed by the manor’s walls.

  I turn back to the body, already scanning the room for something—anything—to conceal it. A heavy woven curtain near the far wall catches my eye.

  I drag him across the floor, the sound of fabric and limp limbs muffled by the thick rug, then roll him up tightly in the curtain’s folds. It’s not perfect, but it will buy us time.

  With the last corner tucked in, I wipe my hands on my red trousers, force my breathing steady, and slip back toward the main corridor.

  By the time I reach the hall, the double doors open just enough for Gerrick to step out, his face tight but composed. He spots me immediately.

  "Still here? Good. Let’s go."