Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Emilia
Ishut the front door behind me, hair spilling over my shoulders, having escaped from its tight bun. The hard labour they’ve put me through, the manual work, has been brutal the past couple of days. My hand finds its way to my ribs, softly massaging the tightness of my scars.
Apparently, because my husband was involved in Kayla’s infidelity, the State decided I should be the one to pick up her work as well as my own; efficiency and fairness, they said.
Punishment, more like.
“Hey!” Claudia calls out, her head poking through the kitchen doorway. Her light honeyed brown hair is piled into a topknot, and she’s wearing a baggy grey tee. “I made us some pasta! Got here a half hour ago.”
“Thanks,” I manage, forcing a smile onto my face. I follow her in, eyes finding Jordan, who’s already halfway through a bowl.
“Is it nice?” I ask.
“Claudia’s good at a lot of things,” he says with a grin. “But cooking isn’t one of them.”
She swats him with a cloth, shaking her head. “Ignore him!”
“I’m terrible at cooking,” I say, smiling at her.
“It isn’t that bad,” she insists, handing me the bowl. I slouch into the seat opposite Jordan, digging a fork into the tomato sauce.
“Work okay?” he asks, and I just shrug.
The truth sits like lead in my stomach, but I’m not about to admit any of it. How two Enforcers cornered me in the barn today, shoving me to the ground and driving their boots into my abdomen because my family spat on the State’s so-called harmony.
Claudia and Jordan haven’t left my side since Zac’s arrest, not once leaving me alone in the house, both coming straight here after work. They’ve done enough, always making sure I’m okay, and I’m not about to make them worry more.
“Fine,” I lie.
Claudia snorts, shaking her head. “I don’t believe you.”
“Any news on Zac? Kayla?” I ask, changing the subject.
Jordan shakes his head. “Sam offered to head to the courthouse tomorrow morning. Ask again.”
“Okay.” I nod, biting my lip and pushing the pasta around my plate.
“Oh, hell no!” Claudia exclaims. “Not again! You have to eat, Emilia.” She points at my bowl like she’s scolding a child.
“I will.”
“You’re damn right you will,” she says. “I’m not getting yelled at when Zac gets out and finds his wife half-starved.”
“I doubt that will be his concern,” I mutter.
“Did you not see him last week at the Armoury? Jeremiah was crying by the time Zac was done with him—”
“Claudia,” Jordan cuts in sharply. I’m not blind, and I’m not stupid. The look he gives her says enough—to stop before she reveals more than she should.
I should care, and deep down, I do. But right now, all that matters is getting Zac and Kayla out of The Cell because they don’t deserve to be there.
“How was work for you?” I ask, focusing my gaze on Jordan. I’m curious about the weapons factory on the other side of the city. What he does, and how it works.
He grimaces. “Busier than ever. Manufacturing and shipping. Almost like they’re preparing for something.” He glances at Claudia, and she frowns.
“Preparing?” I echo. “For what? Another war?”
“Absolutely not,” Claudia says with a scoff. She leans back against the counter, fingers tapping against the edge. “The State won’t risk their precious system.”
“Then why would they be mass producing weapons?” I press.
She bites her lip. “I don’t know. Maybe they’re just being… cautious.”
“Cautious of what?” I snort. “It’s not like any of us can fight back.”
Jordan sighs. “I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s nothing to worry about, Emilia.”
“Of course it’s something to worry about.” I scoff. “The State doesn’t need more ammunition to use against us.”
“That’s true,” Claudia murmurs, sinking into the seat beside me. “Maybe, just… keep an eye on things? But subtly. Stay safe,” she warns Jordan.
He smiles faintly. “Whatever you say, love.”
I gesture between them with my fork. “So, you two clearly adjusted well to your marriage. What’s the story there? Know one another before?”
Jordan smirks. “Looking for tips?”
“No.”
“We didn’t know each other at all,” Claudia says, a small smile on her lips. “But I wore him down.”
“Didn’t take long,” he adds.
“It was my cooking that did it.”
“Definitely not,” he mutters. “Everything else, though… I couldn’t resist.”
“Cute,” I murmur, watching the happy couple as they glance at one another with a look that’s so full of warmth and love that my chest aches at the sight.
“These marriages are awful,” Claudia says, looking at me, her tone hard. “In fact, they’re downright disgusting. A fricking cage.”
“We’re supposed to have a baby this year,” Jordan adds flatly. “They can go to hell.”
“You don’t want one?”
“Not now. Not in… this.” Claudia gestures at the State decorated kitchen, the false married bliss.
I rest my elbow on the table, fork against my lips. “You’re going to defy them?”
Claudia shrugs. “We’ll figure it out.”
“They’re not forcing her to do anything she doesn’t want to do,” Jordan growls.
“I don’t think we have a choice,” I reply quietly, dropping my fork back into the bowl. “What do they even do to those who refuse? Or… can’t have a baby?”
Jordan leans back in his chair, jaw ticking. “I don’t know.”
Claudia looks down at her hands, running one over the other. “Since we’ve been living here, everyone we know has had one before the deadline. But Rufus said a year ago that he’d heard that one couple was sent back to Grafton and Brook House, and that they would be reassigned to new partners.”
I just stare at her. “I never heard of anyone moving back.”
“Me neither,” Jordan mutters.
Claudia gives a sad smile before shrugging, gathering Jordan’s empty bowl into her hands and rising to her feet. “Eat up,” she orders, pointing at mine again.
I sigh and shovel a forkful into my mouth as they begin chatting about the weather, a clear attempt to change the subject away from the dark and dismal reality of our lives.
But I don’t hear them, my mind elsewhere.
The war’s long over. The State shouldn’t need a weapons factory. The only reason to keep one running is if they plan to use them again. And the only ones who can possibly be the victims are us.
Something’s coming.
And I’m almost certain Claudia and Jordan know more than they’re saying.