Chapter 6
The little girl looked like she was about three years old.
She clung to her mom, wailing as the slavers ripped her away.
Her mom screamed, but none of the slavers batted an eye.
The Reapers shoved the woman into the back of the truck.
The screaming continued, and the sound felt like a physical blow.
I wanted to cover my ears. I wanted to do something.
Instead, my body stayed locked up, breath shallow, watching like I was trapped behind glass.
Juck strode back to his bike, a wide grin on his face, and I knew he’d managed to barter a higher price.
“C’mon, Angel,” he said cheerfully, swinging onto his bike. “Time to go.”
I climbed on behind him and pressed one ear against his back, trying to muffle the screams. It didn’t work.
Even the overwhelming roar of all the bikes didn’t drown the woman out.
The sound was relentless, and panic started building behind my ribs.
My hands clenched in Juck’s jacket until my fingers ached.
Stop, I longed to plead. Stop before they hurt you. Please!
After a couple hours, Juck had had enough. He raised an arm, signaling to the truck, and the air left my lungs.
“She’s probably gonna stop soon,” I couldn’t help blurting out.
The whole procession came to a stop and Juck hopped off. He paused for a moment, staring at me.
“You questioning me, Angel?” he asked.
My throat closed, and I shook my head.
“Good. Then you can come watch.” His eyes glittered.
I left the bike on unsteady legs, nausea rising hot and fast. Grip opened the back of the truck and the woman began wailing even louder as they hauled her out.
My body wanted to turn away, to run, but I stayed still as ordered.
Juck forced her mouth open and, as he began to cut out her tongue with ruthless efficiency, he met my eyes and smiled.
Something inside me lurched violently. Blood gushed from her mouth and her cries became garbled noises, and my vision blurred as I gagged. I doubled over, retching into the sand—
I bolted upright. It took me a moment to orient myself and to register that Sam stood downstairs, shouting my name.
“Bones!”
“I’m fine,” I choked out.
“Put the ladder down right now.” He sounded pissed.
I glanced at the ladder lying on the floor. Anxiety rose. “Why?”
“Now, Bones!”
“I’m sorry if I was loud—”
“I swear to the gods if you don’t put the ladder down right now—”
I threw off the blanket and slid the ladder down, then scrambled back to my mattress, pressing against the wall and wiping at my wet face. Sam shot up the ladder, scanning the loft with narrowed eyes as he strode toward me, and I braced myself.
“I’m sorry. It was a nightmare,” I said as fast as I could manage. “I’ll be quieter—”
“Wait, what?” His brow furrowed.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated, my voice wobbling.
Sam crouched to look me in the eye. “I’m not mad. I thought someone was up here hurting you.”
I stared at him, embarrassment mixing with the fear and the lingering horror from my dream. “Oh.”
“Gods, did you think I was mad ’cause you were too loud?”
I dropped my eyes, my face burning.
“You were screamin’ at someone to stop.” His voice had an edge to it.
My dream surged back, the memories of what followed trying to play out in my head. If only cutting out her tongue had been the worst thing Juck did to her. I covered my mouth with a shaking hand, willing myself not to be sick.
“Breathe in through your nose,” he instructed. “Slowly.”
I did, and bit by bit, my stomach settled. In the dim moonlight filtering through the window, I couldn’t see his expression, but he didn’t touch me.
“For the record, none of us are ever gonna be mad ’cause you woke up screaming, but we are gonna need to make sure you’re alright.”
“I said I was fine,” I muttered.
“Yeah, you say that a lot,” he retorted. “So far you haven’t been fine even once.”
We sat in silence for a while, and I tried to wrestle myself under control so he would go away.
“You have nightmares a lot?”
I had them almost every night, but I shrugged.
“I dunno if anybody’s told you, but Mac handpicked this crew. To join, we each had to swear to live by a certain code, knowin’ that breaking the code meant exile or execution. Part of that code is not causing harm. Nobody in this crew is gonna hurt you.”
It was the same thing Trey had told me. The words were lovely, but that didn’t make them true.
“Madame is a fucking bitch,” Sam continued, “but she lets the crew leaders govern their own people. That’s how Mac carved out a place for us—a safe place. And you’re in it, okay?”
I thought about Clarity and her bruises, Hojo’s skeletal body, and the man who’d died screaming a few hours ago.
I wanted to ask Sam, What about them? but I had no high ground to stand on.
I’d stayed with Juck for twelve years while he tortured and killed people.
Besides, I wasn’t staying here, so I shouldn’t even care.
“I’ll let you get back to sleep,” Sam said. “But can you leave the ladder down? I promise, no one is gonna get in here.”
I gave a short nod, which seemed to satisfy him. He stood and headed to the ladder.
“Night, Shortcake,” he called over his shoulder.
In the silent darkness, I lay back down and stared anxiously at the ladder until exhaustion pulled me under again.
—
I spent the next several days in fear of Mac summoning me to the watchtower, but there was no sign of him.
More people started coming into the clinic, keeping me busy in a satisfying way.
Being able to freely heal people soothed my soul, but it also left me confused.
I hated Madame, but as I used my powers more, a long-dormant part of me seemed to awaken and stretch, and it felt good.
I was quickly growing attached to the clinic, though I told myself it was because I’d never had my own space before.
Mac’s crew confused me even more. They wouldn’t leave me alone or stop fucking talking.
Trey, Griz, and Sam were almost always in the clinic getting in my way.
They joked and teased and asked stupid questions and didn’t seem to care when I refused to participate or snapped at them to get the fuck out and go bother someone else.
They didn’t act like guarding the clinic and keeping an eye on me was a job.
Sometimes I had to remind myself that Madame had ordered them to be here.
They were guards, not friends, no matter how amicably they acted.
Jax delivered things once in a while and stayed quiet around me, but I often heard him chattering at the others outside. Sam called him “the kid,” “Trey Jr.,” and “blondie.” He didn’t seem to mind the nicknames, except for “the kid.” I often heard him shouting, “I’m fifteen! I’m not a kid!”
Sometimes I caught a glimpse of his sandy blond hair and my heart would leap before I remembered where I was.
I spotted Lana a few times from a distance, but I could still feel the scorching heat of her glare.
Raven still hadn’t said a word to me, but the woman could speak volumes with a single twitch of her eyebrow.
She’d made it clear she disliked me, but I expected that.
Neither of them had taken a guard shift yet, and I couldn’t help wondering whether Mac assigned duties or the crew volunteered.
I glanced outside from where I was bandaging a man’s leg.
The temperature had begun to plummet at night as autumn neared, but the clinic was still unbearably hot by midday.
I’d taken to leaving the door open to alleviate the heat.
As much as I was curious about how Mac distributed shifts, I wasn’t about to ask the two idiots currently challenging each other to see who could balance a stick on one finger the longest.
“Cheater!” Trey yelled, the stick wobbling on his finger, but he laughed as he dodged the pine cones Sam tossed at him.
“What? I’m tryin’ to clean up Bones’s yard.” Sam caught me watching them and winked.
I flushed and looked back down at my work.
This could not be more different from being with the Reapers, who had hated me at first. They thought Juck had lost his damn mind making a ten-year-old kid the gang healer.
On good days they ignored me, but most of the time they were cruel.
Once I got older, they became friendlier, but not in a nice way.
Then Juck made it crystal clear that no one, no one, was allowed to touch me, and they went back to keeping their distance.
Only two had been something like friends—Rally and Vulture—and they both paid the price for it.
My heart clenched at the memory as I glanced back outside.
Sam and Trey circled each other, fists raised, grinning as they taunted each other.
When they started throwing punches, my fingers stalled wrapping the bandage.
They moved lightly on their feet, throwing jabs and spinning and ducking and laughing the whole time.
It wasn’t long before Trey had Sam in a headlock, a move I recognized from being trapped in it on the roof, and Sam tapped out.
They broke apart, chuckling and wiping sweat from their faces.
The blacksmith I’d been bandaging cleared his throat, and I about jumped out of my skin. My face flamed. I’d forgotten about him. He eyed me with a slight smile, clearly knowing why I’d gotten distracted.
“Sorry,” I mumbled, tying off the bandage.
“S’alright,” he said. “Mac’s crew is one of the best Safeguards we’ve got.”
“Safeguard?” I asked before I could rein in my damn curiosity.
“Crews that go outside the hold and do reconnaissance or make trades,” he explained.
“We’re pretty self-sustaining here, but we have to go to the Fork or Highhold on supply runs or to make trades every so often.
It’s always dangerous when you’re dealing with valuable resources.
Sometimes they gotta fight off raiders.”
“Those places near here?”