Chapter Six – Disappointing My Master

I sluggishly opened my eyes and screwed them back shut when the ceiling started swirling. My stomach protested loudly, and I leaned over the side of my bed and vomited on the floor. My body shuddered and spasmed as I emptied the contents of my stomach.

I flopped against the mattress and tried to ignore the pain that wracked my body, but the pain couldn’t be ignored, just as I couldn’t ignore how my mission was an utter failure.

I blinked rapidly, clearing my blurry vision as I remembered what that monster did to me. The sedatives long wore off, and the throbbing between my legs was a cruel reminder of how I was viciously taken in the back of some seedy brothel.

I was defiled…tainted…unclean…used.

There’s no way my master will want me now.

My return home was nothing short of a miracle. I remembered staggering out of the brothel, limping from the brutal fucking and my broken ankle. I’d kept to the darkness, cradling my broken hand to my chest as I stumbled the mile to the retrieval zone. I called for assistance and managed to give the responder my code name before losing consciousness. I briefly woke when the responder swore as he loaded me into the back of the van. He muttered how Master Verano would flip out when he saw my condition, and I willed myself to pass out again. At least then, I couldn’t feel the bitter disgrace.

I need to get cleaned up and get medical treatment.

As if fate was working against me, the door to my bedroom opened, revealing Master Nicholas’s bulky frame. His shadow cast across the room, and I rushed to grab the blanket and cover my shame. He entered my bedroom, heavy boots thudding on the floor when he walked. He stopped before me and peered down at me. He wore an unreadable expression on his face, preventing me from predicting his next move.

I trembled when he reached out for me, fearful that he’d strike me for disappointing him. Instead, he grabbed the blanket and slowly tugged it out of my weak grasp. I shrank into myself and tried to cover the bruises and dried semen left behind by Anthony. Despite the warm room, my battered body shivered uncontrollably.

Silently, Master Nicholas scooped me up and carried me to the bathroom. He laid me in the tub and turned on the shower. He rolled the sleeves of his dress shirt up, exposing muscled forearms with tattoos I used to trace as a child with my fingers.

I miss those times. It was simpler then.

I closed my eyes as he delicately washed my body. He rubbed the soapy washcloth on my skin, washing away the dried traces of Anthony’s cum. He tapped my knee, and I instinctually closed them.

“I need to wash you,” he said gruffly. “It will be quick. Name the positions of The Federation as a distraction.”

I closed my eyes and parted my legs for him. I hissed when the towel made contact with my sore and swollen vagina. When he was done, I’d only made it to the Chief of Staff.

“You don’t appear to have any fatal injuries. However, your lower body did take quite the beating. Let’s get you into a treatment cabin.”

He dried me before carrying me to the treatment cabin in the corner of my bedroom. He waved a foot beneath a sensor and the lid to the cabin opened. He placed me gently on the mat and pressed a button for the clear lid to close. He tapped a few buttons before a red light scanned my body from head to toe.

Master Nicholas’s fingers flew across the panel as he selected options. Seconds later, the treatment cabin announced my injuries and confirmed it was initiating Repair Mode. Ten minutes later, a green light scanned me just as the red light did.

“No injuries detected,” the machine spoke before the lid lifted.

I swung my legs out of the machine and marveled at how I felt like I was at 100% again. It wasn’t my first time in the treatment cabin by any means necessary, but ten minutes ago, I had a broken hand and ankle, and they were now fully functional.

My eyes landed on Master Nicholas, who was sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. He was nothing more than a smoky haze as he smoked his favorite brand of cigarettes. I traversed the room and knelt in front of him. He didn’t have to say anything—I knew my place.

The smell of the smoke was pungent. It drilled into my nostrils and suffocated my lungs. The smoke reminded me of that damn brothel. I then realized that he and Anthony smoked the same brand of cigarettes.

I can’t help but think that Master Nicholas and Anthony Peterson are one and the same, or at the very least brothers, since the military academy. What else do the two men have in common?

I stared up at Master Nicholas, waiting for him to address my failure. He stared above my head at nothing in particular.

That’s how disgusted he is with me. He can’t even look at me. He rather look at a blank spot on the wall.

My breath hitched in my throat when I felt the cold muzzle of his gun pressed against my forehead. “My training over the years has been sufficient. Has it not?” I swallowed roughly as I attempted to maintain my composure. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes, sir. It has been sufficient.”

“Then why have you returned to me in this condition?”

“He was stronger than me, Master.”

“He might be stronger than you, but you should be quicker than him.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“Your sorry means nothing to me. I want results, Sloane.” I closed my eyes when he dug the gun deeper into my forehead. The sound of the hammer being pulled back on the revolver filled the room. It was deafening, and I wondered if I was about to take my last breath.