BACK TO WHEN...2

Augusta's POV:

She had studied the pack for quite a long time, especially during the times when all the slaves laboured in the fields. She had been able to expand her knowledge of what route to take to escape. She was thrust into her cage, and this one was made of iron. Having been captured when she was six, she had spent a total sum of twelve years in this cage, and she had come to love it. The hays lying on the concrete floor had been her pillow of comfort, where she had shed silent tears. She reached for the pin at the back of her hair, which had fortunately not been cut short like that of others and she knew the reason they had not done so to her.

As though he had read her thoughts, a man appeared before her with incursion. She could have been fazed if it was the first time he had done this. But it was so often now. She raised her gaze to stare at his golden eyes with incuriosity, causing the smug on his face to become more prominent. She could have admitted how striking his appearance was if his heart perhaps matched his outlook. But it didn't. He wasn't a man to be toyed with. His piercing eyes bored into hers and she couldn't help but glance away.

"You still won't regard me, I see." He stretched his hand to caress her cheeks but she shifted away from his touch causing him to chuckle...it wasn't a happy one. "I see you're a feisty one. But this isn't the time to be vexed with me, Augusta. I would never harm you if you cooperate." He stated and she frowned at him. She had never heard anyone call him by name. And with the way he was dressed, she knew he was anonymous. The only privilege she had was seeing his eyes and eyebrows. They were so thick but she could tell he was a very attractive man. When she looked down and saw his hand, the tattoos that designed them just made a loud statement about him and it made her tremble.

This wasn't the first time he was going to approach her. She was desperate for it, for revenge. But she could not make it without him no matter how much she may try to deny it. The culture here was pathetic. She couldn't believe that in the 21st century, there were still places in the world that still denied women.

"Dante." He called and within a second his guard was beside him. "Take her to the servants to get cleaned up." With that, he straightened and walked away while she glared at his retreating figure.

The poor girl didn't know what to do, but she was quite aware that in this case there was nothing she could do. She didn't own herself, or her body. Her plan to escape had not even been executed before it was already aborted, because a so-called god had interrupted it. But there could be another way right? All she needed to do was to reason another way out.

"Why does he want me to get cleaned up?" She innocently questioned the guard with a blank face.

"It is not in my place to tell. But I would advise you to go along with whatever he desires. He doesn't let rebellion slide." He emphasized before grasping her hand, and in an instant, they were in the hallway.

And even though the area was quite underdeveloped with canopies and laid-out camps, the dust bounced as she was led towards one of the camps and she couldn't guess what was going to happen next. He was probably going to kill her if he wanted. When she was in, the servants had their heads low. She scanned their attires and understood it was a way of dressing in this place. They were both in scarves and long white gowns. They had their faces covered like every other woman in this place and it was strange to her compared to her torn trouser and shirt. They took her to the bathtub and there she cooperated with them. With how silent they were, she knew they were forced to be. They didn't wish to be.

"Let's get you dressed. The slave master's wrath isn't one to be tasted." For someone who lived in a kingdom where women had limited speech, she seemed pretty direct. She grasped her hand before leading her to the dressing closet once they had entered a room. "This is the room where all his mistresses, alive and not dressed up. You can't afford to mess anything up or you'll be dead before you know it. He doesn't hesitate to kill women who aren't to his taste." The girl looked at Augusta with pleading grey eyes.

"Don't depend on what you know. Know that you are to be seen and not heard, and you are to speak when spoken to, you are to be obedient and the one that most of the women have failed in is to be knowledgeable. The other options are easy, but being knowledgeable is the most essential. Follow all that I have told you, and you will be fine." The maid emphasized. Augusta was certain that they had told this thing so many times to the women who had come here. This was the principle they had to abide by in this province. It was so odd to her coming from a place where feminists reigned.

"Thank you." Was all she could say.

Within a few minutes, she cleaned up and dressed in a beautiful outfit, not too flashy nor too dull like the maid had said.

She walked into the room, to present herself before the man she wanted nothing to do with. His hands were stained with so much blood and most of them were from innocent bodies. He had his back turned to her, giving her the privilege to observe the tattoos and scars he had. She used to believe they were all myths but now she knew. He was a mafia man. The tattoos said it all, his aura made a statement of that. Even the rings on his finger made it clear. The slave trafficking was another proof and his face and accent didn't befit the indigenes of this place. He looked and sounded like an Italian. At this point, she dared not go against his demands. He terrified her to the core. Even her hands trembled and yet still his back was turned to her.

"Strip." He said. Her eyes widened because no man had ever told her that before. He slowly turned towards her. "You don't want me to repeat myself, trust me." She had no choice and began to strip till she was in her undergarment. Then he rolled the scarf off his head before dropping it on the floor. Her eyes widened when she saw his face and there, there was a smug on his features. She didn't want to know what was coming next.