8. Jersey
JERSEY
The chill seeps through flesh and muscle, dulling every ache until quiet relief settles bone-deep. It becomes soothing, almost merciful as I lie at the edge of consciousness.
Awareness slams into me with the first blast of icy water.
My eyes shoot open with a sharp inhale, harsh fluorescent lights blinding me as the freezing droplets sting my bare skin. I try to scramble from beneath it, but my wrists catch against each other, bound tight.
What the hell did Commander Martin…?
Before the question can even fully form, it all comes crashing back.
The Enforcers.
Running.
The Fringe.
Repo Man.
The flicker of cruel delight in his blue eyes as he stuck a syringe into my neck.
A tremor of rage ripples through me, a knot of dread tightening in my gut as his words replay in my mind…
"Maybe, I'll buy you at auction, if they don't slaughter you first."
No, no, no…
Bile rises in my throat as I frantically take in my surroundings.
White walls around me.
Black zip-ties binding me.
Navy camo watching me.
I blink back hot tears as a wave of panic takes hold, the reality of where I am crushing against my chest.
The Vanguard.
"Clean yourself up," one of the Enforcers commands, tossing a bottle of all-in-one hair and body wash towards me. "No one likes a filthy whore."
"Then don't make us into them," I scoff, rocking onto an elbow as I reach for the bottle.
The words fall from my lips a second before my brain can catch up, and water squelches beneath his boots as he crosses the shower bay in three strides.
A guttural scream tears from my throat as his foot drives into my side, and I collapse against the tile, pain exploding beneath my ribs as I instinctively curl around it.
"Uh, Miller…" The other Enforcer shifts uneasily. "Won't they dock your pay if she ends up in the infirmary?"
"IF," he tuts. "It's all about the if, Rookie."
"But what if she says something?"
"That's not how it works," Miller scoffs. "And even if it did, who would they believe? An Enforcer, one of their very own, or some worthless bitch?" he asks, lifting his foot again.
I flinch, body tensing as I brace for another blow. Instead, his boot crushes down atop the bottle beside me, body wash splattering across my bare skin and the sharp antiseptic scent burning my nostrils.
"Better hurry up, Asset," he says, a smile playing at his lips as he turns away. "Water's only on as long as I want it to be."
Scrambling upright, I scrub myself clean as fast as I can, the zip-ties digging into my wrists with every movement.
The enforcers mock me, exchanging crude comments about my naked body as red-hot shame prickles beneath my skin.
It's not like I haven't heard it before or felt the lingering stares, but it still feels as humiliating as it did the first time I was here.
God, I feel so pathetic.
Hidden beneath the shower spray, I blink softly, letting a few tears break free.
The first time, I was terrified because I didn't know what would happen. This time, I'm terrified because I do.
The water abruptly cuts off and I swallow hard, forcing back the tears that threaten to keep falling.
Don't let them see you cry, Jersey. They don't deserve the satisfaction.
"Here," the rookie says, reaching for a towel. "Dry off and–"
"No," Miller cuts in, his arm barring in front of the other to stop him. "She can get it herself."
I tip my chin back, meeting the challenge in Miller's dark eyes. He wants me to say something– anything– that would give him half an excuse to hurt me again.
My palms splay against the slick tile as I hold his stare, my jaw clenched tight, keeping all my creative thoughts inside my head.
Sadistic fucking rent-a-cop. I hope you trip and swallow all your teeth.
I get halfway up before my bound hands slip from beneath me, pain flaring up my side as I drop back to the floor.
Ignoring their laughter, I grit my teeth and try again. It's slow and awkward, but somehow I manage to make it to my feet. My chest heaves, eyes locking onto the towel rack straight ahead as I take a careful step. Annoyance lingers just beneath my skin with every squelching step forward.
Grit, breathe, repeat.
"Stop," Miller commands, drawing his combat knife as he closes the distance between us.
My body stills, but my mind careens off in a spiral. I haven't said a word to earn another punishment. Hell, I didn't even look in their direction.
With no warning and a sweep of his hand, the tip of his blade skims my arm as he cuts through the zip-ties. My eyes widen, snapping down to my wrists as I turn them over, expecting to find a cut or blood, but the skin is just red and raw from the restraints.
"I wonder what will come first," he starts, my eyes flicking up to meet his. "Beating the fight out of you, or the life out of you?"
Fear licks up my spine, my lips pressing into a thin line– not from defiance, but to keep them from trembling. This place could kill me yet.
"Dry off and get dressed, Asset," Miller says, ripping the towel from the rack and throwing it at me.
I quickly do as I'm told, the rookie already pulling open the door as I slide my feet into the slippers. They lead me through brightly lit halls and a series of secured doors, stopping in front of a solid steel one labeled C7.
"Rest up," Miller says before shoving me into the room. "The Appraisers will be by first thing in the morning."
The door slams shut, plunging me into darkness save for a pale strip of moonlight cutting through the narrow windows lining the top of the wall.
I stand there unmoving, the tension easing from my shoulders with each fading footstep.
Once they disappear entirely, my arms drop to my sides, and I pad toward one of the metal cots.
Curling into the center of the flimsy mattress, I hug the pillow to my chest as my eyes lazily sweep over the room.
It's just the same as I remember. Cinder block walls painted white, what has to be the world's scratchiest bedding, and folding chairs at the end of each narrow bed. At least I’ve got seating options while I wait for whatever fresh hell comes with tomorrow's appraisal.
Fuck, I hope the wound I gave Riggs gets infected and his stupid dick falls off.
I blow out a shaky breath as the adrenaline ebbs away, leaving behind a dull throb of pain.
I've done nothing but fight since the Enforcers knocked on the door.
For my life, for my freedom. Against that fucking Repo Man.
But as exhaustion settles deep into my marrow and sleep threatens to pull me under, I don't have any fight left. I just let it take me.
Metal crashes against concrete, the harsh clang ripping me from sleep. I jolt upright as a pale blonde is shoved into the room.
"No!" she yells, trying to slip past Miller, but he's quicker. He raises his rifle and slams the butt into her face with a sickening crunch. She lets out a pained scream, blood spilling from her nose as she collapses to the floor.
Because I clearly have a death wish, the instinct to intervene overrides whatever sense of self-preservation I have left. I snap, putting my neck on the line for a complete stranger. Can't accuse me of not being a girls' girl.
"Stop!" I shout, shooting to my feet. "What the fuck is your problem?"
"Stupid bitch," Miller swings the rifle toward my face. "Learn your place."
I freeze, unwilling to see how deep this limp-dick douche's god complex runs.
"Let tonight be your only warning," he says, the barrel of the gun drifting toward the blonde crumpled on the floor before returning to me. "As long as you're in my fucking ward, you worthless whores will fall in line, or I'll blow your heads off."
He lowers the gun, adjusting the strap across his shoulder as he pivots toward the hall. "And even then, I'd still fuck your corpses before dropping them in the incinerator."
The door slams shut behind him, the lock engaging with a mechanical whirr. With a sigh, I drag a hand through my hair and sink to my knees beside the blonde. Gently, I cup her jaw. Bruises rim her bloodshot eyes and fresh rivulets of blood trail from her definitely broken nose and down her chin.
Jesus... talk about unnecessary force.
Tilting her head, I inspect the damage. She winces, sucking in a breath through her teeth.
"Sorry." I cringe, letting go and rocking back to sit on my heels. "Just wanted to make sure there wasn't a piece of bone jutting through."
"It's okay," she sniffles, wiping some of the blood with her sleeve. "I'm Kenzie."
"Jersey," I offer, pushing to stand and extending a hand.
"Thanks," Kenzie says, placing her palm in mine as I help pull her to her feet. "Sorry about your shirt."
"Eh," I shrug, glancing down at the blood staining the cuff of my sleeve. "It's not the first– or the second– time that I've had someone else's blood on me this week."
Kenzie gives a polite laugh as she hobbles over to the bed opposite mine and settles cross-legged on the thin mattress.
Too bad it's not the joke she thinks it is.
"So, what's your story?" she asks.
"Guardian defaulted," I start, scooting back on my bed and leaning against the wall. "He was executed and I was reclaimed. You?"
"Mine used me as collateral on a loan, and defaulted..." she rolls her eyes. "Again."
I stop picking at the skin around my nails, brows furrowing as I glance up. "Again?"
"Yeah," she sighs. "He really likes poker but isn't even kinda good at it. Then to soothe his ego, he snorts a bunch of coke or downs a bottle of vodka and plays even worse the next hand. Rinse and repeat."
"Jeez..." I hesitate for half a beat, unsure if I really want the answer to what I'm about to ask. "So, you've been reclaimed before?"
She nods. "Twice. But he usually finds a way to come up with the money while I'm being reassessed.
He's got some twisted deal with the appraisers, making sure I'm assigned to the auction tier, then he pays a premium to buy me before the actual auction and lets whatever Enforcer helps use me before he collects. "
My mouth hinges open. "What? They can do that? How?"
Kenzie laughs, a sad smile curving her lips. "Because they run the place. Enforcers, Commanders, the rich assholes at the center of the city. They either make the law, are the law, or own the law."
I hum in response, though I shouldn't be surprised. I mean, I'm not surprised. I know The Registry is crawling with predators who are protected like an endangered species. But learning that there's a whole other heinous faction of them makes my stomach sink.
"You said they make sure you're assigned to the auction tier, what else is there?"
"Well, there's auctions, the girls that are visually appealing to buyers.
But if they don't think you'll sell for much, they see what skills you have that they can exploit for a profit and assign you to the work duty tier.
And last but not least…" She trails off as she shifts her position, arm propping beneath her head as she lays on her side.
"There's black tier, the Vanguard's very own purgatory.
" She yawns, a fresh trickle of blood sliding down her cheek.
"If they can't make money off you, then you’re basically a dud.
A liability to their bottom line, and the last thing any of them want is to take a loss.
So in order to keep their fucked up ecosystem afloat, they find a way to bleed profit from you.
Could be a clandestine auction to a depraved freak from another city or country, medical trials or organ donation, and if nothing else, a training target for new enforcers. "
"Ah..." My chin dips, the movement slow and numb as I pick apart her words. I've been an Asset since I was fourteen. I have exactly zero useful skills outside of being some rich creep’s house pet. But will everything I've done over the last twenty-four hours be factored into my assessment?
I roll my bottom lip nervously between my teeth as I pull back the covers and slip beneath the stiff fabric.
"Hey, don't worry about it. You're cute. I'm sure you'll go to auction." She twists around, facing away from me as she adds, "It's not like you stabbed someone on your way in."