Chapter 9

Riddick let out a growl and knocked harder. A beep sounded, the comm camera, he supposed, and then the door rattled, a startled gasp leaving the lips of the short techie now shrinking at the sight of Riddick.

"Yes, sir?" the man stammered. Riddick scowled.

"Wanna let me in?" The man nodded quickly, stepping away from the door and heaving it open, shaking under Riddick's hard stare. "Close it," Riddick commanded, nodding at the door. The man complied and pressed back into the hard metal. "Relax," he snorted, walking away slowly, "I'm just here to pick up a few things."

"Pick up…?" the man trailed off. "This isn't a storage facility, Lord Marshall." Riddick turned quickly, his not-so-happy-face back in place.

"There's a girl that used to live in that darkened hallway. What happened to her personal effects?"

"Personal effects, sir?"

"Yeah, the shit you took from her when she was kidnapped and locked up in that hallway," Riddick growled.

"Um, I'm not allowed to—"

"Where is it?" Riddick barked loudly, making the other servants jump and stare. The man took a few deep, calming breaths.

"Um, which girl, sir?"

"Her name is Sevic," Riddick answered, arms hanging loosely, but somehow still menacingly, at his sides. A brow was perched high on his forehead, as though daring the man to challenge him.

"I don't know them by names," the man said quickly. "Sir," he added after a beat.

"What, you want me to call up the 'menu' and point her out?" Riddick asked slowly. The man nodded, a jerky, hurried movement that almost made Riddick laugh. Almost. He obliged the servant, who then ushered him down a series of hallways, shelves lining the walls floor to ceiling.

"Here it is, sir," he said quietly, pointing to a small metal box. Riddick extracted it from its resting place, blowing the dust into a cloud in the air. The servant coughed.

"You got the key?" The servant nodded, that quick, seizure-like nod, and led him back down the hallway. Riddick read him the number on the box, and he fished through a cabinet of keys, finally producing one and handing it to Riddick with a trembling limb. Riddick snatched it from his bony fingers and grunted. "Just a number to you, huh?" The servant stammered, but Riddick's glare silenced him, and he only stared at the hulking man's back as he stalked from the room.

Riddick paused, just outside the bedroom door, listening to her deep even breathing. Good, still asleep. He sighed and plopped into an over stuffed chair, running his fingers over the metal box sitting in his lap. To snoop or not to snoop, he thought, a pensive expression on his face. Eh, what the hell. He shrugged and stuck the key into the box, pausing as it squealed loudly with the turn. No change in sounds. He continued, lifting back the hinged lid. A dress was neatly folded, wrapped in a plastic bag, and he undid the seal, running his fingers over the soft material. Velvet. Nice. He resealed the bag and sat it on the box's lid A simple bracelet, a hairpin much like the ones she now wore, though this looked like it was trimmed in abalone or something of the sort. He shook his head. Women and their fancy things, he thought with a mental snicker. He'd never understand it. His eyebrow rose. Now thatis interesting. He lifted the knife, still in its sheath and turned it over. The sheath was connected to a strap, which looked about the right size to fit around one of her slim thighs. The handle was decorated, though not ornately, with a thin, curling dragon. A gem was placed as it's eyes, and once again he wished he had color vision. His skin tingled at the sound the knife made when drawn from the sheath, and a small smirk played on his lips as he tested its sharpness. He licked his lips, replacing the knife and setting the whole package next to him on the arm of the chair. His face fell at the last remaining item. A small, carved ring. Fuck. He glanced at the door, and back to the cold metal object he turned around his finger. Hell, if they pillage the bodies like I bet they do, I might be able to find her husband's ring for her. He sighed heavily, quietly replacing the items in the box and locking it, standing and placing the box on the chair.

Her breathing changed the minute he opened the door, no longer deep and measured, but quick and shallow. He paused, once again just a silhouette in the doorframe, and she sat up slowly.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. She nodded slowly. For some reason, every time he spoke she got the urge to clear her throat. He stood there for a moment and then shut the door, but she wasn't sure if he'd left or closed it behind him.

"Lights dim," she called softly. The lights rose just enough for her to see without blinding either of them, but his eyes still narrowed. "I didn't know if you were still here," she explained quietly. He sat on the corner of the bed, rubbing his eyes. "I'm sorry." His head turned slightly toward her.

"For what?"

"This morning," she answered quietly. "I don't know what got into me, but you shouldn't have had to see that." She took a breath to continue, but he held a hand up, silencing her.

"You don't ever have to hide anything from me," he said gently. "Don't hold anything back on account of me."

"This is your suite," she protested.

"I don't care. You're living here too. And even if you weren't, I don't want you hiding anything from me." He turned to her, holding her eyes with his own. "Anything." Her eyebrow rose out of surprise. "Got it?" She nodded slowly, and he nodded once before turning back to the wall. An unsettled silence fell over them. She knew something was on his mind, but wasn't sure if she should ask. "There's something in there on the chair for you," he finally said. Her brows furled.

"What, you're buying me things now?" A touch of agitation in her voice.

"Just go look," he said with a sigh. She threw her legs over the side of the bed, adjusting the towel she'd been wearing when he put her back in bed, and reached for his robe, tying it tightly around her waist. He rose as she glanced over her shoulder at him, her hand hovering over the doorknob, and he nodded, following her into the other room.

"What's this?" she asked, picking up the key and turning it between her fingers. He only looked back at her. Her eyes narrowed. "What is it, Riddick?" His eyes closed, and he pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat opposite the room from her. A gesture of his hand was meant to encourage her to open it, but she only stared at him until his eyes opened again so she could send him a look. She sat slowly, still eyeing him as she placed the box in her lap. His jaw clenched as she turned the key and flipped the lid open, the breath leaving her in an audible sigh. "Riddick," she said, her tone slightly scolding, hands shaking as she removed the bagged dress. She slid the garment from its bag and shook it out, running her fingers over the embroidery. He watched her carefully as she smelled the fabric and the laid it over the arm of the chair. Her hands shook as she extracted the bracelet, slipping it over her hand and onto her wrist before removing it again and returning it to the box. Tears spilled onto her cheek as she lifted the wedding ring, turning it over in her fingers before dropping it with a ping back into the box. Her eyes lifted to Riddick's, and she forced a small smile.

"Is it all there?" he asked gently. She nodded, brushing the tears away with a brush of her fingers.

"Thank you," she whispered. He nodded, standing as she refolded the dress, slipped it back in the bag and placed it all back in the box. She locked it and set it on the floor, folding her hands in her lap, feeling his eyes on her again.

"I'll have the dress cleaned for you," he said quietly, walking to the comm unit.

"Why? I'm not going to wear it," she said slowly. He turned back to her, eyebrow arched. "Riddick, I can't put that stuff back on," she explained, voice still strained. "All of that stuff was what I was wearing when…" she trailed off, lowering her eyes.

"Which is exactly why you're going to wear it tonight." Her head rose again, confusion flashing in her eyes. "All of it," he added.

"What's tonight and why the fuck should I?" she demanded, voice rising angrily. "Why should I have to go back to that night?" She stood slowly, inching toward him. He sighed.

"Look, you were seen that night, right?" She blinked quickly, shaking her head slightly.

"Yeah, so?"

"Trust me, they'll know," he growled. Her eyebrows rose.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" she exclaimed.

"It's Sunday," he said slowly. She gestured for more explanation, and he sighed. Dumb fuck. Like she'd really know. "Every Sunday all the ranks have a formal dinner. I have to be there, and I want you there with me." The color drained from her face, and she fell back into the chair, her lip trembling.

"I can't do that, Riddick," she whispered, shaking her head slowly.

"You have to," he responded, closing the distance and crouching in front of her. "Listen to me. They'll know that dress. They'll recognize you, and the fact that you'll be with me will send a message."

"And what message would that be?" she asked slowly, voice still trembling.

"That I'll make things right if they fuck with me or mine," he rumbled. Her eyes widened, and she shoved him away from her, standing quickly.

"Let's get one thing straight, Riddick," she snapped. "I am not yours, and if you think you can—" She stopped, suddenly pinned against the wall with a not-so-happy Riddick glaring down at her.

"They think you're mine, and as long as they do, you're safe. Listen to me Sevic. You throw this in their faces and they'll know I'm serious when I warn them not to fuck with me. You get your vengeance, and your stability all in one." She shook her head, eyes still wide with fright. He sighed. "Their ranks don't mean shit to me," he continued. "The fact that I pulled you from that hallway and put you next to me at that table will let them know I don't give a fuck where they are in the hierarchy. If they cross me, I'll kill them." She swallowed. "Can you do that?" Her eyes reflected back to her in his. "For both of us, can you do that?" Her eyes closed, and she sighed.

"Put me down," she demanded quietly. He complied, setting her on her feet gently, still holding her shoulders loosely. Her hands pressed against his chest as she opened her eyes, staring up at him again. One instant she looked exhausted, and the next was nothing but rage as she shoved him away from her and snatched up the box, glaring up at him as she stomped into the bathroom and slammed the door. Again.