24. Jersey
JERSEY
There’s an unfamiliar looseness in my limbs; a boneless comfort that lets consciousness seep back in lazily.
And as my eyes work open, it’s not to Enforcers scowling and ripping me out of bed for another evaluation.
It’s not to Harris fastening an ugly pink collar around my neck. For once, I wake up… peaceful.
I’m still in the cabin, but the bed’s different. This one’s bigger than the one I woke up in before, dressed in black sheets and an impossibly soft black duvet. Somehow, I know it’s his room, and waking up here feels a little too damn good.
I let out a contented sigh, my body melting against the mattress. I’ve been dressed in another one of Talon’s oversized t-shirts. My fingers drift down to the collar, pulling it up to my nose. Whiskey and smoke and a little citrus. It smells like him.
And yeah, I know full well how damn idiotic it is to find any fragmented sense of security in a monster that was literally hired to hunt me down and drag me back to The Registry kicking and screaming.
But he also hasn’t brought me back there this time.
And something deep inside me twists with a terrifying ache that feels a lot like hope. Pressure builds behind my ribs as heat creeps beneath my skin, shame following close behind. Because this shouldn't feel like winning. None of this should feel like winning.
I should feel disgust crawling through me; that sick, hollow feeling that overwhelmed my system after every time Commander Martin used me.
I should want to scrub last night from my skin and disappear somewhere deep inside myself where I don’t have to think about it, because that’s how sex has always ended.
But not this time.
Instead, there’s a strange warmth pulsing through me. And somewhere buried deep, beneath all the excuses and confusion, my mind confesses a truth I’m not ready to face.
Maybe it feels different because it wasn’t a performance.
Last night felt real.
It was something I chose– something that anchored me inside my own body instead of making me desperate to escape it.
I raise my arms above my head, toes curling as I stretch before reluctantly sliding out of bed. My throat’s raw, desperate for a drink, and a delicious ache blooms between my thighs as I pace toward the door and pull it open.
“Talon?” I call, padding slowly out and down the hall. I glance around in search of him, but there’s no sign; no response. Only silence.
And somehow it feels like a pinch of betrayal.
I shake my head, telling myself not to jump to conclusions. The last time I left the bedroom, it took a few minutes for him to show his face. So, I follow the same routine as last time, wandering into the kitchen and filling a glass of water.
By the time I drain it, he still hasn’t appeared, so I refill it.
After the second glass, I lean my elbows onto the smooth quartz counter, fingers tapping idly as I wait. My ears strain to hear the faintest sound of him, but there’s nothing. He really must be gone this time.
A strange unease washes over me as I realize I’m alone, and for some reason, the solitude makes the cabin feel claustrophobic. The walls are suddenly pressing in too close, the silence too heavy. Then panic starts to worm its way in.
I shouldn’t be here.
I don’t even really know where here is, but it can’t be safe. Nothing with any connection to The Registry ever is.
I should run.
And while that instinct is immediate, so is the utter exhaustion lacing my muscles.
I’m so damn tired of running.
Every time I try, I somehow wind up farther from freedom than before. Because running doesn’t change what I am. It doesn’t erase my name from their system or make the guardianship contracts disappear. As long as someone owns me, I’ll never truly be free.
The truth settles over me with sickening clarity– that there’s no way out, not for me. Not for any of the Assets.
That thought should terrify me– and maybe it does– but beneath that fear, something harder takes root. Because that leaves me with two choices… give up, and surrender to a life that’ll never belong to me, or keep fucking trying to change my fate, even if it kills me.
Maybe freedom is impossible. Maybe every road I take leads me to the same place. But that ugly little bit of hope still clings inside me, because I’ve never been a quitter.
Steeling my resolve, I take a last sip of water and set the glass down on the counter, turning for the door. I have no idea what’s beyond it, but whether it’s salvation or damnation, I have to find out.
My bare feet slap against the hardwood as I stride across the room, pulse ratcheting higher with every step. When I reach the door, my fingers tremble as they curl around the handle and twist.
There’s no resistance, the lock snicking open on the first try and a gust of fresh air smacking me in the face.
I don’t know what I expected, but it definitely wasn’t…
nature. The cabin had a whole bunker-esque feel, and as I step out into the sunlight, I realize that’s because it’s a berm, built into a hill.
I spin in a slow circle, finding nothing but grass and trees and wilderness spread out in every direction– towering pines, colorful maples, and thick birches fully surrounding the cabin.
Adrenaline surges through me. I’ve spent so long wondering what freedom feels like, what it tastes like.
Maybe it’s this.
Out here, with the woods stretching endlessly around me and no walls closing in, I swear I can finally feel it. With every inhale of fresh air into my lungs, I swear I can finally taste it.
And fuck, I want more.
I don’t even really choose a direction, I just run. Away from the cabin, away from Riggs, and away from a life that wasn’t and would never be mine.
Dead leaves and twigs crunch beneath the soles of my feet as my legs carry me through the trees, an electric jolt skittering through my veins with every reckless stride.
Crisp air surges through my lungs, branches snagging at the loose fabric of my shirt.
His shirt. But I don’t slow down. If anything, I run faster.
For the first time, there’s no one pursuing me, hellbent on hauling me in to be repackaged and sold. But by the time the cabin disappears from sight, the silhouette of the hill dipping down behind the canopy of trees, the rush starts to curdle into something else.
Suspicion.
Because that was too easy. Riggs doesn’t seem like the type to accidentally leave a door unlocked. Which means he did it on purpose. And if he did it on purpose….
My steps falter, rocks and sticks jutting into my feet as I grind to a halt.
This isn’t an escape.
It’s a fucking game.
… and it suddenly dawns on me how much I want to play.
A fresh surge of adrenaline courses through me as I take off running again, the brush around me thickening the further I go. I run until my breathing turns ragged and I’m forced to slow, folding forward with my hands on my knees as I struggle to drag air into my lungs
That’s when I hear it.
Crunch.
My spine goes rigid. Somewhere behind me, another branch snaps, followed by the unmistakable sound of heavy footsteps thudding through the leaves.
Not mine.
Someone’s following me.
Fear prickles over me as the realization dawns that there’s no way to know who or what is out here. The Registry could’ve found me. An Enforcer could be tracking me and closing in right now.
Or it could be the Repo man.
My heart stutters, misfiring before it hammers into a crescendo.
Is it fucked up that I want it to be Riggs?
Probably.
Definitely.
But anticipation mingles with the fear, a thrill cracking open and coiling tightly in my belly.
The footsteps grow louder, drawing in closer.
Fuck.
I swing my arms wildly as I sprint through the brush, weaving past trees and narrowly avoiding being stabbed by their branches.
The pursuing footsteps mock my own cruelly, growing faster, getting closer, gaining on my every step. My lungs scream for relief as I duck beneath a low branch and cut sharply to the left between two trees.
For one glorious second, it sounds like I might’ve gained distance and lost him. My mouth spreads into a victorious smile.
Then a solid weight slams against my back, taking me to the ground.