Free Web NovelChapter 164: Chapter One-Hundred-Sixty-Four: Inn Keepers
//CLARA//
Minutes stretched into an eternity.
I sat frozen when the lock outside clicked.
The door swung open and Casimir climbed back inside. He didn’t say a word as he took his seat. The carriage remained stationary, bathed in the dim, yellow glare of the dockside lanterns filtering through the frost-streaked window.
I looked at him.
The pristine facade he wore was completely gone. In the low light, I noticed the dark specks on his jawline. More of it was smeared across the knuckles of his right hand.
Without even asking, I already know whose blood it belonged to.
My stomach twisted, but I didn’t flinch.
Instead, I asked, "Is he dead?"
I didn’t need to specify a name.
He leaned his head back against the upholstery, his dark eyes fixed on me through the shadows.
"Death would be too merciful for him. Why?" freeweɓnovēl.coɱ
I shrugged, testing the rigid give of the linen bindings.
"I’d hate to think his suffering ended so quickly while my dress is completely ruined."
His lips twitched.
"You’re a strange creature, Clara."
"I’m a practical one." I flexed my fingers. "That dress he ruined when he tried to put his hands on me cost more than most people in this city make in a year. He owed me at least that much."
"He owed you more than a dress."
"Obviously. But I’m starting with the wardrobe. One grievance at a time."
The silence stretched between us. Outside, the city was waking up in the fog.
"Did you enjoy it?" The question tore out of my throat before my brain could stop it.
His head tilted slightly. "Enjoy what?"
"Breaking him. Watching him beg."
"I enjoyed what it meant." His voice was flat. "That he will never touch you again. That every man who sees what’s left of him will think twice before coming near what’s mine."
"So it was about me."
"Everything is about you, Clara. I thought you’d learned that by now."
I yanked at the restraints. "Then untie me."
"Not yet."
"Casimir—"
His fist pounded against the carriage roof twice, cutting me off. The coachman snapped the reins, and we lurched forward.
Only then did he reach for the knot, pulling the fabric free.
I hissed, rubbing the red marks on my wrists. "You could have just asked me to stay."
"Would you have?"
"Probably not."
His lips twitched. "That’s what I thought."
I flexed my fingers, feeling the blood return to my hands.
"What are you going to do now?" I asked. "How about Elias?"
Casimir’s expression flickered.
"I need to send him away. He is too much of a risk."
"No." The word came out sharp and instant. "You cannot do that. You can’t just ship him off to another continent because it makes your ledger cleaner."
"And why is that?" His voice dropped. "I understand he is your childhood friend. But aren’t you doing a bit too much for him to be just friends?"
The accusation hung between us.
I opened my mouth to fire back an alibi, to invent some calculated lie about Gary’s family connections, but the words died in my throat.
Because here I was, furious at him for lying to me, for keeping secrets, for treating me like a child who couldn’t handle the truth. And I was doing the exact same thing to him.
I was a hypocrite. A liar. A coward wearing the skin of a woman who no longer exists.
"If I told you something... something that sounded completely crazy and unbelievable, would you believe me?"
Casimir’s eyes narrowed, studying me for a long moment.
"Trust me, little bird. In my line of work, I have seen and heard the most bizarre, corrupted things this world has to offer. Only you possess the ability to surprise me more."
I swallowed. This is it, then.
"Casimir, I—"
The carriage jolted violently.
I slammed against the side panel, my head cracking against the wood. Before Casimir could even catch me, the horse let out a shrill, panicked neigh, its hooves scrambling against the cobblestones. A muffled thump followed, and the carriage tilted sharply left, slamming to a halt.
Then silence.
"Stay inside."
"Casimir—"
"Stay. Inside. Don’t make a sound."
He was already moving, the door swinging open, his silhouette disappearing into the darkness. I heard boots on cobblestones. The metallic rasp of a blade being drawn. A wet, meaty crunch that I tried very hard not to interpret.
I pressed my back against the bench and forced myself to breathe.
Outside, hell broke loose. Grunts, curses, and the sickening thud of flesh hitting flesh.
The carriage rocked slightly with every impact against its outer frame.
When the silence returned, I crawled out of the tilted door into the freezing mud.
"Casimir?" I called out. "Casimir!"
A few feet away, illuminated by the dying glow of an overturned carriage lantern, I found him kneeling beside the coachman, whose throat had been opened from ear to ear.
The horse lay dead in its traces, a dark pool spreading beneath its body. Around them, five other bodies sprawled across the cobblestones in various states of broken.
I cupped my hands over my mouth to keep from screaming.
Blood pooled into the gutters, dark against the fresh snow.
Casimir stood slowly. His coat was soaked, dark patches spreading across the wool. His face was streaked with blood. He turned toward me, and even in the dim light, I could see the wound at his side.
The panic hit me like a wave.
"Oh God—Casimir, you’re bleeding—"
"It’s nothing." His hand firmly clutched over the wound. "We can’t stay here."
We were too far from the Guggenheim estate, isolated in the industrial docks. At this hour, no public cab would ever pass. We were sitting ducks.
"They might be back," Casimir muttered. "We need to take shelter. Now. Move, Clara."
I supported his uninjured side as we stumbled through the fog for three blocks. Ahead, the faint glow of a hanging sign cut through the mist.
An inn.
I shoved the door open, pushing Casimir inside. This place was different from the Gnarled Oak. The air smelled of pine and baked bread. The floors were swept clean. A massive fire crackled in the hearth.
An older couple rushed out, their eyes widening at the sight of us.
"Good heavens!" the woman gasped. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com
"Please," I blurted out. "We need assistance. A first aid kit. He’s been wounded."
Fortunately, the innkeeper’s wife didn’t hesitate. She ushered us into a private back room, returning seconds later with clean linens, boiling water, and spirits. She helped me peel back Casimir’s coat and cut through his linen shirt.
I held my breath as she washed the blood away. A shuddering sigh of relief escaped me when the wound was exposed. It looked brutal but was ultimately superficial.
As his wife began stitching and bandaging, the innkeeper stood near the door, arms crossed, expression wary but not unkind.
"The streets around the eastern docks have been getting worse," he eyed Casimir’s expensive clothes. "What happened to you folks?"
My mind immediately assembled a plausible cover story.
"We were heading toward the ferry when our carriage was suddenly ambushed on the road. Robbers. They killed our horse and took everything our driver had."
The innkeeper nodded slowly, the explanation entirely acceptable to him.
"Aye. You’re lucky to be alive, ma’am. The river rats out there will take a man’s life for a gold watch. You two can stay in the upstairs room tonight. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you."
"Thank you," I whispered.
Once the couple left, the room fell into quiet stillness. The iron stove radiated warmth, drying the edges of my soaked skirts.
Casimir sat on the edge of the bed, chest bare, white bandages stark against his scarred skin. He looked pale but out of immediate danger.
I wet a clean rag and gently wiped the remaining smudges of dried blood from his jaw.
"We can’t stay here long," I murmured. "The moment the sun rises, someone will find that carriage and those bodies."
He didn’t flinch. His bandaged hand wrapped around my wrist, halting my movements.
"And this is precisely why I kept you in the dark. The truth you were so desperate for. It bleeds, little bird. Now you know."
He was right, of course. I’d begged for the truth, fought for it, nearly died for it. Now, I was standing knee-deep in the middle of it.
But I’d sooner rot than give him the satisfaction of an I told you so.
So I just looked at him and said nothing. Because what was there left to say?
However, Casimir didn’t wait for an answer. His hand snapped to the back of my neck, fingers tangling in my damp hair as he yanked me forward into a rough, punishing kiss. I didn’t fight him this time.
When he finally let me go, his breath was ragged against my swollen lips.
"Let’s get some rest, little bird. I’ll send word for Higgins first thing in the morning."
