Playing The Victims [BL]

Chapter One Hundred & Twenty One | Fourth World

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On the rare occasion wherein Finch was allowed to poke his head outside of the hut, he found that the location wasn't where he had expected. When Falcon had yanked him along when fleeing the ceremony, he had chosen to wisely take them both off the beaten track.

The slave's huts were far from what Finch had previously been sleeping in. From what he could see, numerous people were crammed into one tiny space. They dragged their feet night and day as they returned long after the master's had gone to sleep and got up at the crack of dawn. Though many were devoted to their masters and the Viper clan as a whole, they lugged their aching bones around as they tirelessly worked without any rest bite.

When Finch had asked Falcon about why they had the hut all to themselves, he told him that this hut was owned by one of his men. One which went under the disguise of a slave, to ensure they had eyes and ears everywhere. But the man's beneficial sleight of hand was necessary to transport the goods, so he was currently travelling with the rest of Falcon's men.

Their hut was less than spectacular and tucked away; slaves tended to mind their own business in fear of being reprimanded so they weren't a potential threat. Each worked different shifts— so to speak— so it was rare that one slave saw another on a regular basis. This boded well for the two men trying to stay under the radar.

But judging by Falcon's shift in attitude when he returned that morning after scouting the area, Finch guessed that their period of relatively easy concealment was coming to an end.

Falcon stormed into the hut, wearing a set of menial clothing that was given to slaves to wear during the winter months. The most important part of his new uniform, was the hood which covered his revealing hair colour. Unfortunately, he was easily recognisable, but he had been doing the job for many years. Many years of going undetected, mapping out the new routes to dip in and out of when they moved. But now that the Viper Clan had settled in a location, it was easier to get a grasp of the layout.

Falcon was a tall man, and when he could he stayed directly out of eye-line, but when there was no other option he would hunch over. Intending to make himself as least appealing as possible, so it startled Finch when he suddenly appeared in the hut and straightened his back to his normal height, tossing away the hood that continued to irritate him and regarded him with a face of thunder.

They didn't say a word to one another, Falcon breezed past him and tore the fabric from his chest and threw it to the ground. He could have been simply dropping it, but under the grasp of a man with such defined muscles, it looked like he was taking his frustration out on the poor fabric. But Finch couldn't complain, nor would he if he had the balls to do so, as Falcon was every bit a feast for the eyes as most men within Viper Clan were.

The only person who bested him in that department had to be a deity himself.

His back muscles flexed as his expression became taut. Though his normal face usually carried a frown, he was evidently troubled. And when Finch intended to ask him, after a few moments of silence, Falcon decided it was the perfect time to rip the remaining item of clothing off.

Finch was left mid-step, mouth open to speak. But seeing the man's backside, something he had glimpsed only a few times out of fear of being caught, a sound of surprise left his mouth without the inability to stop it. It was loud enough to be heard, and as such Falcon gradually turned to face him.

What he saw was a young man gawking at him. When a furrowed brow steadily rose, Finch cleared his throat and looked at the suddenly-interesting dirt ground. His ears warmed as his words suddenly became jumbled. Not only had he been caught in a compromising position where it looked like he was ogling the man, it looked worse when Finch wasn't able to control his gaze as it flicked downwards.