Chapter Thirty
Juliet
Is that why you killed her?
I take a panicked step back from Hadrian, almost stumble, but manage to catch my footing.
Thank fuck, because with my hands tied, I’d have hit the deck.
He acted like I was crazy for thinking he killed Trent, but there’s no instant denial now.
No confusion. All I see on his face is guilt. Jesus Christ.
The tiny woman pointing at Hadrian doesn’t look well. Her eyes are ringed with blue, her skin is pasty white, and her big mass of wavy hair looks like it hasn’t seen a brush in days. She turns to me, and her blue eyes fill with tears, lip wobbling.
Sebastian and Ophelia both did a double take when they saw me, and now this? What the fuck is going on?
“I didn’t kill her.” Hadrian’s voice has a gentle, placating note. Sad rather than angry. “She’s just offline while I—”
“It’s been weeks, and you haven’t even tried to fix her. You don’t even know if she’s still herself, and you haven’t bothered to find out. All you care about now is…”
She glances at me, then back at Hadrian. “She’s my best friend, and you don’t care about her. You don’t give a fuck.”
“Of course I care!” I jump at the sudden, raw emotion in Hadrian’s voice. “I care about her deeply, but I can’t risk the Brotherhood. I can’t…”
He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and addresses the woman who tried to intervene before.
She’s pretty and painfully young. Is she a captive?
According to Hadrian, she has to be. He told me the Wards have to be at least twenty-one.
Whichever bastard stole this poor girl must have snatched her up on her fucking birthday.
She’s staring at me, too, with the same freaked-out expression the other couple showed. She doesn’t hide it as fast and gives a guilty jump when Hadrian speaks.
“Eve. Take Quinn home before she does something she’ll regret.” His voice is all calm authority again, but he’s not fooling me this time. His hands are clenched, his jaw tight. He’s only just holding it together. What in the hell is…
She’s just offline.
The words echo in my head, and a horrible suspicion unfurls deep in my gut. True, sentient AI was always Hadrian’s obsession. If what he’s told me about the Brotherhood is actually true, there can only be one thing he’s doing.
Creating life. Sentient, electronic life.
A cold trickle makes its way up my spine as the tiny woman’s face crumples. “I don’t want to fight. I just want to know she’s okay. Can I please just talk to Candice? Even if it’s just for a minute.”
Candice.
Oh my God.
In the early days, before Hadrian’s research got scary and I realized how out of control his project was, we used to joke about what he should call his first intelligent creation. I came up with Candice because I said a robot needed a ridiculous, overcomplicated acronym that made no sense.
Cybernetic Deep Intelligence Composite Entity.
CDICE.
Candice.
It’s what we started calling his project. He stuck with it, and now he’s created something real enough that a woman is grieving over her.
He did it.
He really did it.
The tiny woman snaps, “Do you hear me? I said I want to—”
A new, deep voice with a harsh London accent says, “Quinn. Settle down, love.”
I look up to see a giant of a man striding over. The tiny woman whirls on him. “You can’t keep me away from him forever. He needs to—”
The man scoops her up and throws her over his shoulder as if he’s picking up a sack of potatoes.
What the fuck?
She screeches and hammers on his back, but the giant doesn’t seem to feel it.
He glances at me, and there’s no shock on his face.
No double take. The reaction is so different from the others that it highlights how weird their reaction to me was.
He speaks to Hadrian, voice raised over the tiny woman’s yells.
“Sorry, mate. This shouldn’t have happened today. My fault.”
“No problem. Thank you.”
Watching the two men having a polite conversation while one holds a shrieking woman over his shoulder might top all the other bizarre things that have happened today, but I’m not even keeping score any more.
The big guy nods and walks off, leaving just the young woman and the people who had stopped to watch.
The onlookers quickly dissipate, but the woman lingers. She speaks to Hadrian directly, and I’m struck by the lack of formality, though her tone is polite. Hadrian told me to address all Brothers as Sir. None of the other women here seemed to get that instruction.
“Sorry about that. I thought some fresh air might do her some good. She’s been…” She shakes her head, then looks at me and holds out her hand. “Hello. I’m Eve.”
I shake it automatically. “Juliet.”
She gives me a fleeting smile. “It’s not always this chaotic in here. Promise.”
Hadrian cuts in. “Eve works with Jacob, who you just met. She’s a biochemist.”
Jacob who I just met? Wait. Surely not. “The big guy? You’re not telling me he’s a fucking scientist? I thought he must be security.”
Eve snorts. “I’ll tell him that.”
A wave of unreality sweeps over me. At least in Saldar’s dungeon, things made a twisted sort of sense.
Out here, I’m having a pleasant conversation with another captive slave.
A biochemist who works with a giant. And why the hell not?
If flying monkeys came swooping past, at this point, I don’t think I’d even blink.
Hadrian doesn’t seem inclined to stop this conversation, so I make the most of my chance. “Eve. Is what…he…” I can’t bring myself to call Hadrian master in front of Eve. “Is it true? All the women here are captives. All the men are…” I stumble over how to describe it, and finish up with, “Owners?”
It doesn’t feel quite right, but Eve nods. “Yes. I know it’s hard to accept at first.”
You can fucking say that again.
My brain still refuses to tick the box. “So, someone kidnapped you and brought you here? You can’t leave. And you’re walking around here like…like nothing is wrong?”
As I talk, heat rises in my chest. Hard to accept, my ass. Why should I accept it? Why the hell should she?
Eve must sense my mood, because she lays a hand on my arm. “I know it’s a lot to take in.” She glances at Hadrian, then focuses back on me. “Once you’re settled in, maybe we can get together, just the girls. You can ask us whatever you want.”
That sounds so good. I want to grab her by the hand and run off with her right now. Conversation. Information. Exactly what I’ve been craving. “Yes. That sounds amazing. When?”
My heart sinks when Eve looks to Hadrian for an answer. She looks to him because he’s the boss. He decides when and if I can go. Because he owns me.
Only now, out of the cell, surrounded by people, does that word begin to have real meaning. He owns me. Hadrian owns me. It still sounds so, so wrong in my head, but a tiny part of me, deep in my lower belly, twinges at the thought.
Wasn’t this just what you always wanted?
It’s hard to force myself to face Hadrian and ask, “Can I go?”
I should say please and master. It’s just too much, though, with Eve standing right there. Hadrian raises a brow. “Not when you ask like that, you can’t.”
Eve looks away politely from us, and the angle of her neck draws my attention to the necklace circling her throat.
With everything else going on, I didn’t register it before.
It has to be a collar. She’s a collared slave, just like me, and I’m sure whoever owns her has made her do embarrassing things before. She won’t care.
Fuck it. Just do it.
“Please, may I spend time with Eve and her friends, Master.”
My stomach clenches as my skin heats. Addressing Hadrian like that in public is doing something to my insides. If he were still in his Saldar costume, it wouldn’t have been so difficult. This is real, and that makes it much worse.
And yet, forcing the words out has my clit throbbing.
He touches my chin and studies me closely. I tilt my face up without conscious thought and part my lips. Maybe he’ll kiss me. Maybe he’ll bend me over right here in the crowded street and fuck me. I have no idea what is acceptable here. And no concept of what he’s capable of.
“When I think you’re ready, yes. I’ll be in touch, Eve.”
He drops his hand, and I take a deep breath, turning to Eve, whose eyes have gone wide, watching us. She clears her throat and traces the line of her collar with the tip of her finger in what I take for a nervous gesture. “Lovely to meet you. See you soon.”
She turns to leave, but Hadrian calls her back. “Eve?”
She spins back face us. “Yes?”
“How is Quinn doing, really?”
His voice sounds more like his old self, laced with genuine concern. Eve sighs, then glances at me before answering.
“Not good. It took me a little while to figure it out, but Quinn really struggled being here... you know? I went to work doing what I love. Ophelia is studying medicine. Quinn had nothing."
Hadrian nods but lets her speak uninterrupted.
"Candice gave her more than friendship. She was Quinn's... thing, her purpose. Her joy. Building their world together, it…it was a distraction. Now it's gone, and Quinn’s lost. Drinking a lot, like she was before, when she manages to get around Jacob.”
I don’t know Quinn, but my heart feels heavy for her. It’s a bleak assessment of her situation, and I add building their world to the list of things I need to pry out of Hadrian. Is Quinn a game designer like me? Maybe I could help her.
I force that line of thought to a screeching halt before it gets going.
The only thing I need to help Quinn do is get the fuck out of here.
Eve, too. Everyone. The women here seem to have a lot of freedom—it’s a long way from the barred cells I’d been imagining.
Surely we can manage something if we all work together?
Once Eve leaves, the silence lies heavy between Hadrian and me.
People wander past, but I can’t focus on their voices.
There’s too much I need to ask and way too much I don’t understand.
One question, though, looms over the rest. “Why does everyone look like they’ve seen a ghost when they first see me? ”
Hadrian’s poker face has gotten crazy good, but even he can’t hide his wince. I’ve hit straight on the thing he least wants to talk about, and that means I’ve asked the right question.
He’ll probably order me to shut up and tell me to get on my knees. Or gag me. Something to stop me poking around where he doesn’t want me. I’m braced for it, and the long silence is a good indication he’s considering it. But then his jaw tenses, and he meets my gaze.
“It’s easier if I show you.”