The Other Brother (Snow and Ash Book 3) by Heather Knight Page A

it. I struggle free of the soldier and dash for the relative safety of the bathroom. I slam the door behind me and my fingers shake as I search for a lock, but there isn’t one. With another sob I sink to the floor and use the weight of my body to block it from opening.
    I’ll leave you here for your husband to find, minus a steak or two. I press my face to the floor and black out.
    “Bianca? Open the door.”
    It’s just Kent, but I can’t move. I can’t. I just want to lie here on the cold bathroom tiles where it’s safe.
    Voices murmur outside the door, and after a while scraping sounds reach me. Then the door is lifted aside, and a bloodied Kent scoops me up in his arms.
    “All of you, out!” Kent’s voice is cold, crisp.
    “Sir—”
    “And get that thing out of here!” He turns to me. “Look at me.”
    I shake my head.
    “Did he hurt you?”
    “He was going to. He told me…”
    “He can’t do anything now. He’s dead.”
    Still my breath stutters, and I claw for a grip on his uniform.
    “Look at me, Bianca.” He sits on the toilet seat and secures me on his lap. He forces me to face him, tips my chin until there’s nowhere else to look. Savagery flickers in his eyes, and his scars seem particularly red.
    “I killed him.”
    I blink. I shudder. I avert my gaze.
    “Bianca!”
    It’s an order I cannot disobey. I meet his eyes.
    “He was a cannibal,” I tell him. “He was from that camp you just annihilated. He said you killed his family.”
    Kent blinks rapidly and looks away.
    “He came for you, but he said I’d do. He was only going to take a leg and leave the rest of me.” I squeeze my legs together, and a sob squeaks out of me. “He said he’d…just take a steak or two.” I tear my eyes away from his, so filled with disgust and fear that I want to escape being me.
    Kent smooths a hand over my hair. “Did he touch you?”
    I duck my head, and he seizes me by the shoulders. “Bianca, did he touch you?”
    Shame flips to rage, and I push at him. “Yes! With his knife! With his hands when he grabbed me by the throat and cut off my air. If you want to know if he raped me, no. Only with his words. If you think that makes everything okay, you know nothing about me.”
    I struggle to get up, but his arms are strong as tree trunks and he anchors me against his chest. “I’m sorry,” he mutters against my hair. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I never should have let this happen.”
    “You said I was safe!” I give him one last shove before defeat overcomes me. I duck my head, and the sobs take over. “You said I was safe.”
    He holds me. Rocks me. Whispers to me. He presses me to his blood-soaked chest. “I killed him, sweetie. I killed him with my bare hands.”
    I’m cold. My body is racked with violent shivers. Kent leans over and turns on the water, holds his hand under it for a few minutes, then switches it to a soft spray.
    Without a word he lifts me high against his chest and steps into the glass-walled shower. He’s fully clothed, but he doesn’t seem to care. Hot water stings my flesh and stabs into my eyes. Kent sits down back against the wall and adjusts me so I’m seated between his legs, his arms about my waist. He pets me like I’m a cat. He soothes away my tremors until I finally relax against him, until I accept that he surrounds me like a concrete barrier.
    When the water grows cold, he lifts me out and dries me off. Still whispering soothing words, he carries me to the bed and tucks me under the covers. I stare at the closets. “The guards,” I whisper as he strokes my hair. “He said he killed them and stuffed them in my closet.”
    Kent places a gentle kiss on my forehead. “We know. Everything’s gone now.”
    I lay still as Kent strips free of the wet uniform and climbs into bed beside me. He pulls me securely against his body, wraps a leg over me, and rests his head on top of mine. “That will never happen again,” he says. “No one will ever touch