3. Sawyer #2
She smiles; huffs a laugh. “I know exactly who you are, Sawyer Hansley.”
“Yeah?”
Her hands fan in confirmation.
“Then how did I make my money?”
“You mean other than your multi-million dollar—”
“How did I get the island in the first place, Luna? Who am I outside of that context?”
Silence. Her lips thin as her fingers begin to drum her thigh.
All the photos I saw in her safe room. All the notes she took about me.
She knows as little about me as I do her.
“You said you owned an investment firm with a talented business partner.”
Correct.
“A shark of a business partner. The kind of man who’d burn your house down because your lawn looked better than his.
“One time, he dragged me on a flight from France to Minnesota in the dead of winter so we could bid on some po-dunk farm that used to belong to one of our competitor’s in-laws.
We paid ten million more than it was worth, just to out-bid the guy in front of his family.
You would not believe the lengths he would go through just to prove his sack was bigger than yours. ”
The cuffs strain against my wrists as I lean forward. “The good news for you, Luna, is that I’m not that petty. I’m not going to laugh my way back to the mines just so I can die with the knowledge that you’ve failed.”
Her chest rises as she shifts. The movement is subtle, but it’s telling. Nervous. Afraid I’ll say no.
“And the bad news?” she asks, her pitch just slightly high as she crosses her arms over her chest.
“The bad news is that I’ve made a billion dollars familiarizing myself with psychological warfare. I know I have a hand to play here, and it isn’t enough for me to just ‘do what you say or be tortured.’ I want freedom.”
She raises her shoulders. “And you’ll have it. You give me what I need, and—”
“No.” I sputter out a laugh. “I mean I want freedom now. I want you to untie me. I want your friends to keep their whips to themselves. And I want to be able to take a piss, in a toilet, by myself, with the door closed.”
Seconds drag as she looks away—face perfectly neutral, lips perfectly still. Eyes glazed. Carefully considering letting me take a piss alone, when a minute ago she didn’t hesitate to promise my freedom.
My intelligence has never been more insulted.
“You’re right… You have a hand to play.” She faces me.
“You’re obviously not going to be allowed to freely scout the woods searching for a way out, and you are not permitted to interact with our general population.
But … your bedroom is in my quarters, as is your bathroom.
Both have cameras. Neither have Keepers with whips hovering over you.
The library is yours to browse, the computer is yours to work at—bearing in mind everything you do on screen is being monitored from a control room, and you’ll need someone present to operate it…
I think all of that matches your definition of freedom. ”
“My current definition.”
She stares a moment, then, “Your current definition.”
“Great. So?” I tug at the cuffs.
Swiping her palms on her pants, Luna surveys the abandoned food. The look alone is enough for my stomach to contract, but I don’t let it show on my face. I don’t ask for more.
If she feeds me, she’s above me. If she’s above me, she has all the power.
She hops off the table and kneels between my legs. Her head hangs while she unties the rope at my ankle. The cuffs stay on—part of the uniform, I imagine.
Too soon to fight it.
“At the desk in your room is a blank piece of paper and a pencil… I want you to write down the names of five women from your island who you believe could easily assimilate here. I’ve included a list of women who’ve been identified or interviewed to exclude, so don’t think of drawing the police.”
Luna begins on the other ankle while my jaw draws tight. I roll my neck, eyes trained on a black and white painting of a forest, secured to the wall in a blood-red frame.
Fucking redundant.
“Please keep in mind, they will only have a few weeks before their purification ceremony. They must be obedient and open-minded—”
I belt a laugh, my lips settling in a sneer. “You mean the ceremony where you drown them in the river? Should they be open-minded about that too, or is it just the shitty food and rape I have to sell?”
She rises slowly before moving onto my wrists. “You don’t have to understand our practices. You only have to get them here and get them compliant.”
“No.”
Her hands pause.
“Not them.”
She squints. “They’re already primed. If you choose those who trust you, it’ll be easiest—”
“Exactly. They trust me. Or trusted me… I’m not helping you bring them here so you can drown them in a river and shove turkey basters up their snatches. I’ll do what you want, but I get to choose who it’s done to. And it won’t be any of the island women.”
Her eyes close, as if she’s working to control the rage that surfaces—but then… The rope she clutches trembles against the cuff. My eyes draw to the slight shake of her hand, slender and pale. Capable of fierce brutality. Capable of masterful imitation.
She could be faking this. She’s faked fear many times before.
When her eyes open, the trembling stops.
She stands, her spine straight, her shoulders back.
Without looking at me, she smooths her sweater and steps around the chair.
“Then I’m afraid you’re useless to me… In the morning, a Keeper will come for the paper.
If you haven’t done what I’ve asked, you’ll be taken back to the mines.
There will be no opportunity to change your decision, so choose wisely. ”
With that, she leaves.
Spine straight.
Head high.
Like she hasn’t just shown me exactly where to press.