CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX #2
Hal hung his head, breathing more heavily than normal.
I ran a hand through his hair, unsure if it was appropriate or the right thing to do.
When Hal didn’t react, I did it again, lightly scraping my nails on his skin.
A low groan escaped him. I glanced over to see Barrett pointedly staring out the doorway.
Hal pushed the chair back, sucking in a deep breath.
His knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of my desk to stand.
I ducked under his shoulder to help, and he leaned into me as he panted, his pain filling the room.
My hands flew up to his arm and chest, unsure where to touch him without exacerbating his pain.
He buried his head in my neck as his breathing settled, and before I knew it, we were embracing.
His usually steady heartbeat was replaced by a furious pounding against my cheek.
Guilt washed over me. He shouldn’t have come. I heard footsteps as Barrett made his way toward us. There was no cunning or mischievous gleam in his eyes as he approached, just worry.
“We need to get back, Hal,” Barrett said quietly. Hal didn’t move.
“I’ll come back soon,” Hal promised me, pulling away.
“Just get better first,” I whispered.
“You’re not wearing your lens,” Hal stated quietly. Barrett stepped closer to Hal, as if he were ready to catch him at any moment. How much was Hal downplaying his injuries? “Why not?”
“I haven’t seen anyone from the Elite or Illum since that dinner.”
Hal released a breath, from pain or relief that I hadn’t been with Collin, I didn’t know.
“I used to see it as my chance at life,” I said. “Now . . . now I don’t.”
I looked up to find them both watching me. Shock radiated from Barrett. I couldn’t breathe around what swirled in those starburst eyes—something completely foreign to me.
Barrett made to help. Hal tried to shrug him off. Barrett growled, “There’s no one to impress here. Just take my damn help, you stubborn ass.”
Hal grumbled but leaned into Barrett, who was shorter but easily held his friend up. I followed them out, watching them walk down the hall before turning right. Hal didn’t say goodbye. I was starting to think I would never be able to say goodbye to him—glowing wrist or not.
THE REST OF THE DAY, I STARED AT THE HOLOGRAMS AND WORRIED about Hal: the pain he was in and how I could do nothing to help. The first few paintings were landscapes that went quickly. After my midday meal, I pulled up the next piece and instantly felt paralyzed.
A woman with dark, free-flowing hair and a unibrow stood topless, white bandage-like wrappings above and under her breasts and twice around her midsection.
The background was barren earth and an indigo sky.
Her face looked determined, but the thing that held my gaze was the tear down her middle, revealing a fractured column where her spine might be, ripping her in two.
I looked closer to see countless small metal nails piercing her skin.
An involuntary shiver snaked up my spine.
The Broken Column. I felt transfixed by the woman’s evident pain, the impassive glare in her eyes that confronted the viewer, the gaping hole for all to see. I just sat with her for a long time.
The usual ding signaled the end of the day. I tore my eyes from her and hit delete. I typed some notes in my report before I gathered my things and resurfaced. My anxiety trailed behind, lurking. The sun was close to setting as I exited the atrium.
I found Lo alone by the Pods. “Hey,” I called out, making my way to her. I hadn’t seen her in almost a week. “Are you okay?”
“I haven’t heard anything,” Lo mumbled as we moved forward in line.
“Do you want to ride back together?”
Lo shrugged. We stood next to each other in line, an odd silence between us.
We scanned our wrists as we boarded the Pod. I sat beside her as the Pod took off. Lo sat staring blankly ahead, leaving her hair in a plait. Was she that stressed about Gregory?
In seeing Hal, my thoughts had quieted, and unease settled within me as an eerie silence blanketed the Pod. None of the women looked at their Comm Devices. No one talked. They all stared blankly ahead like Lo.
I turned toward Lo, fully taking her in. Her blue eyes looked glazed, her sunshine hair was haphazardly braided, pieces falling out, and her clothes were wrinkled. I had never seen her look so unkempt. My unease thickened.
Everyone around me had the same glazed look, and I realized what had happened to the Minors.
I had been so distracted with what might be happening underneath that I hadn’t paid attention to the surface. The balance Tabitha had preached entailed sedating the Minors into submission.
I grabbed my Comm Device and pulled up Collin’s name. I began to type but stopped. Collin hadn’t reached out since the murder, after I had told him he had chosen wrong. I wanted to ask him about it, but he could be behind this.
I deleted the message, noticing the gold light that filled the Pod in the dark. My mating was on full display, but no one whistled. No one even looked.
Except one, a woman wedged between two drugged Minors. Her hair was pulled back in a bun. Her eyes locked with mine, alert and assessing. She looked down at my wrist and then up at my mismatched gaze. She smiled, winking at me, and every hair on my body stood on end.
The Pod stopped at our living quarters. Two Minors and Lo exited without a backward glance. I hurried after them but froze on the threshold.
“The supplements.”
I whipped my head toward the woman with the clear eyes, but she stared straight ahead. “Does he know?” I whispered, afraid to say the Reaper’s name aloud.
“Of course he does. Now run along, pet. They’re watching you.”
The reason for their behavior slammed into me almost as hard as pet.
I was so stupid. I hadn’t been taking the supplements, but they all had.
My HI had said they planned to alter my supplements to calm me.
None of them would have gotten the same information.
This was more than calm—they were drugging the Minors.
I chased after Lo, slipping between the closing doors of the elevator.
The woman’s other statement burrowed into my chest. I was being watched, but which side was watching me?
Both of them? I had never seen her in the transportation Pods before.
Suddenly, Hal’s declaration that there was a vulnerability in being known sent my mind spiraling.
How many spies did the Reaper have? How big was this operation?
The doors opened and Lo walked off. I followed her down the hall and into her living quarters. It wasn’t until the door fully closed that I approached her. The room was smaller than mine, facing Low Town.
“Lo, listen to me. Are you taking the supplements daily?”
She didn’t blink. “Of course.”
“Lo, you have to stop taking them. They did something to them.”
“We have to, Emeline.” Lo gazed over my shoulder. “I have to make this mating work.”
“This is more important than a Mate. Don’t take them,” I urged.
Lo grunted as she scanned, and the automated voice filled the room as she walked to her wardrobe filled with only gray. She stripped, throwing on gray leisure clothes.
I glanced toward her black boxes and counter space to find trays and empty stimulant cups everywhere. “I’m going to pick up.” I gathered the trays and consolidated them as the first box dinged. “I’ll bring it to you.”
I crammed the trays into the second box before I opened the first box and grabbed her tray of mush and supplements. We were never given supplements with evening meals. I snatched the supplements from the tray.
Someone from the dinner had gone behind the Illum’s back. Someone had told the Reaper about the Minors before I could. My head started spinning again.
The Reaper knew. Why hadn’t he already stopped this? Perhaps because he was injured—barely able to walk . . . I didn’t know anymore.
I handed Lo the tray. She stared at it, then ate three bites before dragging her feet to her bed and falling into it. I followed her over. “Lo, in the morning, don’t take the supplements. Can you hear me?”
Lo opened her eyes, finding mine. Behind the haze, desperation stared at me. “Why . . . what did I do wrong, Emeline? They said—you . . . why Gregory won’t give me a contract,” she finished incoherently.
“Lo, I don’t know. It’s not important. Right now, I need you to tell me you won’t take the supplements. They put something in them to make you like this.”
“Not important . . . you have Illum. Your future set,” Lo slurred groggily, her blinks becoming longer.
“No one’s future is set. Look, Lo, we can figure out Gregory, but you have to stop taking the supplements.”
She mumbled something incoherent before her breaths began to even out.
Part of me wanted to stay with her to ensure she was okay, but I needed to scan.
I didn’t want to draw attention to myself—to her.
I would come up right after curfew ended tomorrow.
Hopefully, she wouldn’t have had her morning meal before that.
I tossed a blanket over her sleeping form before I left.
Sleep evaded me as I tossed and turned in my bed, my thoughts infecting me with fears, until the unknown won, distorting my grip on reality.
I searched for my old dream of spinning in a pretty gown in the arms of an Elite man that would save me—desperate for its simplicity, the hope it had once given me.
The more I dug, the more out of reach it became, solidifying its fragility and deceit.
It didn’t exist—it never would. Too much had changed in the world—in me.
Sleep claimed me and with it came a dark tunnel, my whispered name—a haunting, urging me onward or trying to hold me back. I didn’t know.
In what felt like minutes, I awoke to Frida prompting me to scan.
I made my way over to the scanner and dragged myself toward the three black boxes, hopping onto my counter and resting my head against the wall as Frida began her report.
I wished she would tell me when this whole menstruation thing would end, but she didn’t.
I didn’t trust the supplements anymore, but I missed the ones that kept my cycle away. I sighed, closing my heavy eyelids.
“Your levels are all improving dramatically, Emeline.”
I whirled toward Frida. She was smiling.
“I am pleased to see our plan is working for you. I will contact the Illum with this wonderful news.” Please don’t, I thought. “Enjoy your morning meal, and then I will begin our lesson.”
The black box dinged, and I retrieved my meal, scarfing it down. I ignored the container of supplements. I hadn’t taken any since the day before the dinner.
“Today, we will review several of the dances we have learned. Enjoy, Emeline.”
The rest of the lesson flew by too quickly, each step and spin siphoning my frustration and clearing my head.
The lesson ended with the dance that was becoming my favorite. The dance was faster, with bigger swells in the music and countless spins. When the music ended, I was sweaty and panting, but for a moment I felt lighter.
I opened the container of supplements, staring at the various shapes and colors of the pills. I would never take them again if I could help it.
I could give Hal the supplements. Maybe he would know what was in them.
I dumped the supplements into my white clutch, alongside the cuff and the knife.