6. AURORA
The sheet Taliesin tosses through into the cage is thin, gray, and reeks of chemicals.
But as I tie it around the bars near the ceiling, the three-foot-wide slice of privacy feels like a godsdamn luxury.
Now, on to the next problem. The one that’s currently making my face burn.
I look over at my captor, who is busy acting like I don’t exist. “Can you whistle or something? I need to use the… facilities.”
“So?” he grunts, not even looking up.
Fuckhead. “So I don’t want you to hear me. And I want a toothbrush. And a shower. Providing necessary hygiene is in the Geneva Convention.”
I have zero idea if that’s actually true, but if it isn’t, it should be—and yes, I’m aware I sound as whiney as Julian.
Taliesin’s gaze finally fixes on me, heavy and unreadable. “It’s your funeral, Princess. The showers are communal. I’m not stopping the rest of the Diggers from using them just so you can have some ‘me time.’”
Communal? My stomach drops to my bare feet. “You mean… like, unisex?”
“Yep. Still want that shower?”
I swallow hard, my skin literally crawling. I’m soaked in a layer of sweat and grime that feels like a second skin, and the thought of staying like this is almost as bad as the thought of being naked in a room full of strangers.
I can handle it, I tell myself, even though my hands are starting to shake.
Eyes on my body won’t actually hurt me. Probably.
Don’t freak out, Aurora. Do not let him see you freak out. I take a deep breath, forcing the unconcerned ice-mask into place. “Yes.”
He sighs, the sound clearly stabbing at his chest. “Fine. I’ll take you.” His amber eyes are bloodshot and heavy. “I’ll watch your back, but be quick and don’t say anything stupid. The Diggers have a no-rape rule, but the Guild doesn’t.”
Fuckkkkk.
“Duly noted, asshole.”
He doesn’t even look at me as he unlocks the gate. The heavy metal clack of the lock sounding so fucking ominous it’s not true. “Stay by my side. Do not look at anyone. Seriously, Aurora—eyes on the floor.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
In the main Digger corridor, pipes hum and rattle overhead, some leaking a slow, rhythmic drip-drip-drip of lime-scaled water onto the concrete.
A tall, skinny guy is leaning against the wall, watching me with eyes that are full of awful promises.
Should have kept my gaze on the floor.
“Mason,” Taliesin says, his voice dropping into a dangerous tone. “Get to work.”
“Yes, Boss.” Mason doesn’t move fast, but he moves.
The further we walk, the hotter it gets.
It’s like the building is trying to bake us alive.
Everywhere I look, there are guys hauling crates, cleaning vents, or dragging trash.
I know the age range here is sixteen to twenty-one, but most of them look like they’ve lived three lifetimes already.
I guess that’s what a hard life and no money does to one.
Nobody says a word. No catcalls, no comments. The silence is heavy and suffocating, and honestly? It’s almost worse than the yelling. It feels like they’re all just… waiting.
Finally, we turn the corner into a large, steam-filled room. There are no curtains, no stalls and a few wet, ragged towels dumped in the corner. Taliesin nods to them. “Take one, then five minutes.”
He positions himself by the door, hand hovering over a broken toothbrush tucked into his waistband like it’s a weapon.
On one side, a couple of girls stand together, washing their bodies and looking around with wary eyes. A few feet away, a naked man is watching them, shamelessly jerking off like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I look back at Taliesin, desperate for him to… I don’t know, do something. But his eyes are fixed somewhere on the ceiling, his jaw set in a hard, unforgiving line.
What the fuck is this place?
I try to catch the girls’ eyes, giving them a small, shaky smile—a "we’re in this together" look. They both just scowl at me.
“Fuck off, Digger trash,” one of them spits.
Right. The gray jumpsuit. I’m not Elite anymore. I’m just a girl who lives in the sewers.
On the far side of the shower block, two more men are minding their own business. I head for the space beyond them, giving a wide berth to the wanker who’s still… doing his thing.
My skin feels like it’s crawling with more than just dirt.
The first guy turns as I pass. “Look what we’ve got here. The Bossman’s pet Barbie Elite.”
Fuck my life.
Trying to ignore him, I wrap the thin, scratchy towel around me and struggle to strip the gray coveralls off underneath it. It’s an awkward, humiliating dance. This is awful. I hate every second. I don’t let go of the towel as the lukewarm water starts to rinse the sweat and the blood from my body.
The water on my face hides the fact I’m silently crying.
Then, I sense a presence. A shadow blocking the light. Someone is standing right behind me.
I spin around to find one of the men from the Digger bleachers standing inches away, his body slick with water and eyes simmering with resentment.
“Just letting you know, Princess,” he whispers, crowding into my space until my back hits the cold, wet tile.
“He can’t watch you every second. And some of us think the ‘no-rape’ rule shouldn’t apply to a monster who bites off dicks for fun.
We’re the ones pulling double shifts in the furnace to pay for your stunt. ”
He yanks at my towel, his fingers grazing my hip.
I don’t think. I don’t breathe. I just react. I drive my knee up with every ounce of terror-fueled strength I have left. It only catches him in the thigh but it’s enough to make him stumble back with a grunt.
"Go fuck yourself, asshole," I spit at him. "And newsflash, biting off your tiny penis will be the least of your worries if you try anything with me.”
That’s it. Don’t let them see you weak, Aurora.
“Get out, Rice!” Taliesin’s voice cracks like a whip from the doorway. He hasn’t moved an inch, but his eyes are promising a slow death.
Rice doesn’t flinch. He spits at my feet, then turns his glare on Taliesin. “The men won’t follow a Boss who picks an Elite over his own kind, Bevan. Not when we’re the ones paying the price.”
He stalks out, but the tension in the room remains high. For all my bravado, I hate this. Hate it so much.
My captor, Taliesin Bevan, is the only thing keeping these people from tearing me apart.
So far.
When I’m dressed again, I turn around.
Taliesin beckons me out. I go meekly. I hate myself for it, but I’m so fucking exhausted, meek is all I have left.
Outside the shower block, he stops abruptly and looks me over, his eyes traveling from my damp hair down to the battered sneakers I was given to wear. His jaw is a hard line of tension, a muscle leaping in his cheek. “Don’t get too comfortable, Aurora. As of tomorrow, you’ve got work to do.”
Work? “What does that mean?”
He grabs my arm, his grip firm, and leads me back down the corridor. “You have to pay the debt for what you did to Gleb. Every afternoon during rec, you’re going to the Guild’s territory.”
Wait, what?
My stomach drops. A cold spike of panic pierces through the humid heat of the hallway.
“What are you talking about?” I whisper.
He sighs, like I’m being particularly annoying, which I’m not. I just need some fucking clarification on what he just said, because I must have heard wrong. “You have to spend some yard-time serving the Guild, Dimitry in particular.”
My heart stops. The tiny spark of gratitude I felt in the showers vanishes, replaced by a cold, sharp hatred. “Are you fucking kidding me?” My voice is too high and shrieky for my liking but I can’t seem to calm down. “You’re sending me to them? To be their slave?”
The eyes of other inmates turn to us. I hate that they’re all watching. Taliesin looks around at the dozen or so Diggers in the corridor.
“She is being lent out to the Guild to serve them,” he announces. “She’ll be at their beck and call until Gleb is out of the sickbay.” Laughter echoes around the tunnel. I feel sick and humiliated.
“You gonna put on a show for the Guild, shake those fancy titties?” Someone calls out.
My cheeks burn. I will not do that.
I will not.
“Nah, she’ll be fetching water, scrubbing boots—shit like that, grunt work,” Taliesin says, quite casually to the assembled group.
“You have to trust I’ve a reason for taking her.
A reason that will benefit us all.” Then he looks down at me with a sneer that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
“But don’t think for a second she’s getting a free ride on our dime. ”
“Fucking A, boss,” a voice behind me yells.
Bile rises in my throat. So this asshole Bevan, who I thought was looking out for me, is just like every other fucking male.
Not to be trusted.
“Can’t wait to watch, boss.”
Laughter pushes at me from all directions.
Taliesin grabs my arm. “That’s enough, back to work.”
“You utter bastard,” I snap as he drags me along.
My heart fumbles, the slightly painful wump-ppp it does from time to time.
“You’re just feeding me to the wolves despite all your big talk of being anti-rape.
You fucking weak dick.” Spitting out curse words isn’t helping my panic at all, but it’s the only thing I’ve got.
“You’re just like my father. Pimping me out.
Giving me no choice.” My voice is trembling, raw with rage.
“Calm the fuck down. It’s the only deal Dimitry would take,” he replies in a low voice. “Believe me, it could be worse. And I’m sending two of Jensen’s crew to watch your back.”
Watch my back?
“You think that will stop anyone assaulting me?” Seems more likely that these animals would just cheer any attacks on.
“I do. Dimitry agreed to a no-touch rule. My enforcers will make sure that agreement stands.”
I take a breath. I’ve got to pull myself together. Hysteria will not help anything. “So, no touching at all?” I have to force the words past the lump in my throat. “You’re sure?”
He nods once, his jaw tight. “That’s the deal. No one touches what’s mine.”
Mine?
We arrive back at the cell, and I feel just as filthy as I did before the shower. “You make a habit of sending out girls half your size to do your dirty work, Bevan?”
Taliesin’s jaw tightens. He shoves me back into the cell and slams the gate. The iron vibration rattles my teeth.
“Cut it out, Princess,” he growls. “I’ve had enough of your moaning for one day.”
And I’ve had enough of him.
I don’t bother to throw another insult, just raise my middle finger, then collapse onto the cot, staring at the gray sheet I’ve tied up. It’s pathetic.
The bruises around my wrists from the shackles sting, the skin raw and weeping.
I feel sick to my stomach.
Taliesin doesn’t hang around to gloat. “I’m going out,” he grunts, still avoiding my eyes like a coward. “See if you can keep your stupid mouth shut for a while.”
“Where are you going?” I ask, but he’s already gone.
Alone at last, my body feels battered, vibrating with a thousand different kinds of tension. I can’t just sit here and wonder what will happen tomorrow when the Guild take me.
If I think too much, I’ll break.
So, I do the thing that always brings me peace.
Standing up in the cramped space of my cage, I kick off the shitty slip-on sneakers, and place my bare feet into fifth position.
I start with a simple plié, my stiff, underhydrated muscles complaining in protest, then move into a tendu. I use the rusted iron bars as a barre, my fingers gripping the permanently warm metal as I stretch my leg out.
Reach. Breathe. Forget.
I’m halfway through a deep hamstring stretch, my forehead nearly touching my knee, when the back of my neck prickles. I straighten up, wiping a stray lock of damp hair from my face, and freeze.
A guard is standing in the doorway not saying a word. He’s just watching me. It’s the one who “escorted” me to the yard, Copeland. The silence grows. I want to look away but I force myself not to.
He’s older, with a gut hanging over his belt and a badge that gleams under the flickering strip lights. His eyes rake over my body, a slow, greasy leer spreading across his face, as he adjusts himself in his pants.
“Anything you need, girlie,” he sneers, “all you got to do is ask…nicely.”
That’s it. I can’t.
I pull away from the bars, retreating into the shadows behind my gray sheet, my heart hammering against my ribs. Taliesin might control the inmates, but he doesn’t control the men with the keys. Does this perv have a way to get into my cage?
Copeland laughs. “I’m always around, you can take me up on my offer anytime.”
I stay huddled in the corner, clutching my knees, for what feels like hours until Taliesin finally returns. He’s drenched in sweat and carrying a small paper sack.
“Dinner,” he declares, tossing a plastic-wrapped sandwich through the bars.
Peanut butter and jelly.
Again.
“Is this the only thing they serve in this five-star resort?”
“It’s the only thing available if you don’t want to go to the chow-hall,” he says, kicking off his shoes with a weary groan. “Figured you’d had enough socializing for the day.”
Suddenly, the overhead lights cut out, plunging the cell into a dim, amber glow from the safety lamps. A beat later, the heavy door at the entrance groans along its track, sealing us in.
“Get some rest, Princess,” Taliesin’s voice comes through the dark, sounding gravelly and distant. “The real work starts tomorrow.”
The real work. Playing handmaiden to the Guild monsters.
I lie back, staring up into the gloom, wishing I could see the stars, the moon—anything that isn’t made of concrete and iron.
But all I see is a gray, stained ceiling.
And all I feel is a darkness that has nothing to do with the lack of light.