Thirty-Four
Simone
“You should have gone with them if you were going to bother me.”
I slanted a glance at Damian. We were in the common area alone, unfortunately. Damian, who had claimed a uniform, finally deciding that the upkeep on his suits wasn’t worth the effort, leaned back. He reminded me so much of Rubin it was scary.
Damian was much taller, more muscular, but he and Rubin shared a similar face, if Damian’s was slightly more handsome. But their biggest similarity was in the way they moved, the way they took up space. The effect, however, couldn’t have been more different.
Damian was a fraud.
I suspected he had always hated me because he knew that I knew.
He would never admit it though. He wouldn’t deign to let someone as insignificant as me get under his skin.
But every time he looked at me, I saw the hatred burning in his eyes, suspected that Rubin subjected me to him, if only to make me sit in that discomfort.
But in the years I worked for Clan Marku, I had tolerated Damian.
The end of the world didn’t change that.
He shrugged, shuffling a deck of cards in his hands, though his eyes didn’t leave mine.
“I would have, but Rubin needed me to babysit his miu. Too bad Lorik isn’t alive. He’d have done a better job,” Damian said.
I gave no reaction to hearing those words from Damian. He was fishing for one. I could see that. But if he wanted to talk shit, I was game.
“Yeah, well, unfortunately, he’s worm meat now, so I guess you’re stuck with this job. A bit beneath you, don’t you think?”
Damian gave an easy smile. I didn’t like him, but that didn’t mean he was to be toyed with. But I couldn’t help myself. Rubin had barely looked at me since Lorik. Easy enough to chalk up to worry about what Merrick was up to but that wasn’t it.
The others pretended like I was invisible, and even Besnik hadn’t spoken to me. Too bad this fucking clown didn’t do the same.
Damian tsked. “Rubin not keeping that mouth busy enough?”
I laughed. “You know what happened to the last person who said something like that.”
Damian’s eyes narrowed. “You think pussy can come between me and my brother?”
“No, I think I take orders just like you do.”
Damian shrugged, like he was stating a simple fact of the matter, but his eyes burned hot. “He is krye. His word is law.”
“Right, and he told you to babysit his miu, so do so quietly.”
I turned back to my new clipboard and put Damian out of my mind. Not easy since he was shuffling louder than any human should have been able to. An effort to get under my skin, which I would not allow.
Three days left now. I needed to tell Rubin that, but was waiting until he came back.
If he came back. My pen scratched against the paper at that thought.
I kept writing. Rubin would be back. There was no doubt in my mind.
And when he did, we’d have to deal with the reality that was quickly staring us down.
These resources weren’t going to last. And I racked my brain trying to figure out what to do about it. So deep in thought that it took me a moment to realize something was against my foot.
I looked down, frozen, my mind unable to process what I saw.
The weight on my foot was surprisingly heavy, warm even through my shoe.
Its ears twitching, fingers moving. And I was frozen.
Someone had tried to suffocate me. The literal dead were walking.
But the rat on my foot would undo me. The thought had me moving and I slipped backward, landed on the hard floor with a grunt.
The rat moved closer, and I tried to scurry back, my own motions clumsy.
It seemed to be moving in slow motion, but it was actually coming fast. Next it would jump and land on me, scurry up my prison uniform shirt.
I tensed as I imagined the feel of tiny feet against my skin, inhaled that unmistakable scent of rats—
Then it exploded.
A crunch of bone, a squeak, a splatter of red.
Damian twisted his foot, then lifted it. I looked up at him, still on the ground, propped up on my elbows, my mouth agape.
He stared down at the mess on the floor, then swiped his shoe against the concrete.
“I ruined my shoes to kill a miu,” he muttered. Then he looked at me. “That’s what miu means. Rat.”
He slid his foot across the concrete one final time, then picked up the cards again, stared at me as he shuffled.