Delilah
Present Day
My legs are jello. My arms are burning. And yet, I’m still
standing.
“You can do this, Della. One more time.” Cam’s been pushing me hard all morning, building on what Bec taught me yesterday. They decided we should primarily focus on hand-to-hand since it’s unlikely I’ll need to disarm someone who has a knife or a gun.
I take a deep, centering breath and nod once.
Cam rushes me just like they have the last five times.
I duck out of the way and waste no time tackling them to the ground.
We wrestle, and I put everything I’ve learned into practice until I’ve got them pinned beneath me, my knees on either side of their torso with my forearm pressed against their throat.
Cam smiles, breathing heavily. “Nice work.”
I smile back, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I stand and extend my hand, helping Cam to their feet. “Thanks. I’ve had good teachers.”
Bec approaches us from where she’s been watching our session. “Your form looks good, Della. Just remember, if you have to use these skills in a real-life scenario, you’ll most likely have tons of adrenaline, which can help in the moment, but usually leads to a heavy crash afterwards.”
I nod. “Got it.”
“Any questions for me?” Cam asks, pulling their arm over their head in a stretch.
“No.” I look back and forth between them. “Thank you, both. For teaching me and being patient.”
Cam shrugs. “You’re a good student.”
I hum noncommittally. “So I’ve been told.”
Bec checks her watch. “Come on, you’ve got an appointment with V.”
We part ways with Cam and head toward the medical tent, the second stop in my day.
Maverick and I spent hours planning and strategizing last night, deciding it would be best to return me to New Athens as soon as possible so it seems more believable.
This way, hopefully, it will seem like the Resistance saw Gabriel’s video, got spooked, and sent me “home” to avoid any confrontation with the Brotherhood.
Once I’m back, I’ll do whatever I need to do to convince Gabriel that I’m happy to be home while simultaneously gathering as much information as I can so the Resistance can strike.
We—along with the council—decided that getting a few women out every few months isn’t enough anymore.
If real change is going to happen, we need to take out the high lords and free the women of New Athens, which is obviously easier said than done.
So, I’ll be training—hard—over the next few days until we can make arrangements for me to go back.
We get to V’s, and Bec pulls me in for a hug. “Thank you.”
I laugh as her small frame squeezes me tight. “For what?”
She pulls away, looking at me with total sincerity. “For doing this. With you, we might actually have a chance to bring the Brotherhood down.”
I wince, insecurity tensing my shoulders. “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”
A devilish smile spreads across her face. “You will, Della. Those fuckers will never know what hit ‘em.”
I try to match her enthusiasm, but I can’t help but feel nervous about the entire operation. “Thanks, Bec.”
We part ways and I step into V’s tent, where she’s bent over her microscope, per usual. She looks up and gives me a warm smile. “Ah, good morning, Della.”
No one has called me Mrs. Sinclair since I decided to help the Resistance, which I’m grateful for, since thinking of my husband makes me sick. “Morning, V.”
“I just wanted to talk to you about something before you go back to New Athens. I’m afraid it might be a rather sensitive topic.”
I take a seat on the stool and cross my arms, nodding at her to go on.
“I know we discussed your history of infertility when you first arrived.”
“Yes.” Before I got here, talking about pregnancy and babies made me sad. Now, all I feel is relief—not only to not be the mother of Gabriel’s children, but also because I don’t know if I could live with myself knowing I brought children into a place like New Athens.
“As I mentioned before, your blood work showed that your body was under a great amount of stress. Along with your irregular periods, I believe the elevated cortisol levels played a significant part in preventing you from being able to get pregnant.”
I nod. “Makes sense. The doctors could never find a concrete reason for my infertility.”
V pushes her bright red frames up her nose. “I thought it might be prudent to offer you some birth control while you’re back in New Athens.”
I thought of this, too, of course. Gabriel will expect me to behave as I was trained to—as a wife of the Brotherhood—which means sleeping with him whenever he pleases. “Won’t they check me?”
“My colleagues in Canada have been developing a monthly injection that blocks ovulation. It’s proven effective in clinical trials so if I give it to you now it should prevent pregnancy for at least thirty days.”
“It’s better than nothing,” I admit, my stomach knotted. One, because up until very recently, I believed any kind of birth control to be morally wrong, and two, because the idea of having sex with Gabriel makes me incredibly nervous.
V rips open an alcohol pad and preps a patch of skin on my upper arm, then opens a new syringe and grabs a small glass bottle of the medication off her shelf.
She fills the barrel and taps it a few times to get rid of any air bubbles before administering the medication.
She sticks a small adhesive bandage over the injection site and I pull my sleeve back down.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Would you like to discuss the psychological implications of sleeping with your husband?”
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “I imagine it will be the same as it’s always been.”
A sad smile pulls at her lips. “Physically, yes. Mentally and emotionally, however, it will most likely feel very different.”
I bite my lip, nodding at her to continue.
She walks over and sits on the stool next to mine. “Before, while it might not have been physically pleasant, you were otherwise convinced that sex with your husband was just another one of your duties as a wife, correct?”
I once again find myself grateful for this place, these people. Without this experience, I probably would’ve remained ignorant forever. “Yes.”
“Now, with your newfound awareness of the truth, you may feel panicked or frightened. Your body may go into fight or flight mode.”
“What does that mean?”
“When your body perceives a threat, the amygdala—the part of your brain responsible for detecting danger—signals your hypothalamus, which activates your sympathetic nervous system and releases cortisol and adrenaline. When this happens, your prefrontal cortex—which helps us make logical, well thought-out decisions—is bypassed, and our brain focuses solely on survival. Your heart rate and breathing increase, your blood pressure rises, and your senses are heightened. Essentially, your brain may tell your body to fight or run, resulting in a much more traumatic experience.”
If simply thinking about sleeping with Gabriel makes me feel sick, I can’t imagine how it would feel to have to pretend that everything is normal. “So, what can I do?”
“Delay as long as possible. If he absolutely insists, you can try to disassociate.”
“How do I do that?”
“Disassociation is another one of our brain’s survival mechanisms. During traumatic experiences, our brain sometimes disconnects from our body, resulting in emotional numbness.
It allows for a mental escape from the reality of what’s happening in our body.
You can try to think of other things, to go to a place in your mind that brings you peace. ”
“Okay. Thank you, V.”
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” She hops off the stool and starts tidying her supplies.
“I wanted to apologize for how I treated you when I first arrived.” Knowing what I know now, my past behavior makes me wince.
She smiles knowingly. “Your hostility was completely normal. Expected, even.”
I grimace. “Still. Thank you for being patient with me.”
“Thank you, for doing what you’re about to do.”
I shrug. “I fear it still may not be enough.”
“Maverick always says, ‘one person can always make a difference for someone.’”
I find myself smiling involuntarily. “Of course he does.” That’s exactly what he’s done here for these people—for me. I grow more fond of him—my former enemy—every day.
I leave V with a quick hug, making my way through the camp for my final errand. Sam’s been on my mind these past few days, and there’s a nagging voice in the back of my head urging me to make things right with her.
I stop to ask a few people if they’ve seen her until I find her near the dining tent. She’s sitting with a friend—the same woman from the Hub on my first day here—and chatting. They fall silent as I approach, a deep-set scowl on Samantha’s face.
“Can we talk?” I ask. My tone is friendly enough, but my spine is stick-straight.
Sam jerks her chin at her friend, who scurries away quickly. “What do you want, wife?”
I can’t help the slight raise of my chin, but I ignore her jab. “I wanted to apologize.”
She crosses her arms and raises a brow, apparently waiting for me to go on.
“I’m sorry for what I said. I was ignorant and it was out of line.”
“And now you’re… what?” She waves a hand around. “Enlightened? A rebel? A traitor to the Brotherhood?”
I take a deep breath to ward off my irritation. “I’m doing what I can to make up for my past mistakes.”
She barks a laugh. “By hooking up with the leader of the Rebels?”
“Wh-What?” I stutter. “What are you talking about?”
She rolls her eyes. “Don’t play dumb, wife. We’ve all seen how you look at him, how you follow him around like a lost puppy.”
I shake my head. “I don’t know what you’ve heard, but there’s nothing going on between me and Maverick.” A bit of a fib, since there definitely is something between us, even if I don’t know what, exactly.
She continues, unconvinced by my assurance. “Take it from someone who knows: Maverick’s always had a thing for damaged goods. Some kind of savior complex, I guess.”
Damaged goods? Take it from someone who knows?
God, I’m such an idiot.
“You and Maverick were together?”
A triumphant grin spreads across her face. “For a year, wifey. So, believe me when I tell you I know that man better than you ever will. The only reason he’s showing any interest in you is because you’re ripe with unprocessed trauma.”
A strange feeling squeezes in my chest. Disappointment? Anger? Jealousy? I push it away and square my shoulders, unwilling to play Sam’s little game. “I didn’t come here to talk about Maverick. I came to apologize, which I’ve done, so I’ll be going now.”
“You might be awake now, sister,” she sneers. “But you’ll never truly be one of us.”
I know she’s just trying to get a rise out of me, and unfortunately for her, it’s working. My fists clench. “I don’t need your approval to know I’m doing the right thing.”
She smiles cruelly. “Ah, yes. Your little undercover mission. It’s cute how you think that will be enough to change anything.”
I clench my jaw, forcing myself to walk away. “Goodbye, Sam.”
“They’ll break you, little wife,” she calls after me.
I ignore her, walking through the forest without a particular destination in mind.
I let my thoughts wander, wondering if there’s any truth to what Sam said.
Is Maverick only paying attention to me because I’m his type, traumatized and vulnerable?
Or maybe he’s just being nice? There’s been tension between us, sure.
And I do find myself attracted to him, both physically and emotionally.
But maybe it’s all in my head. After all, he’s never so much as even looked at my body lustfully.
Maybe he doesn’t feel the same chemistry I do.
Sam made it seem like he purposefully targets victims of the Brotherhood to pursue romantically, but I have a hard time believing that.
Maverick doesn’t have a predatory bone in his body.
And, he left this morning to take Joseph back home, so I can’t even ask him if what Sam said is true.
I walk for ages until I find myself on the shoreline. I sit on the coarse sand, running my fingers through the tiny pebbles on the beach. Wrapping my arms around my bent knees, I rest my chin on my legs and look out on the water, content to sit and listen to the waves lapping at the shore.
I’ve already been struggling with whatever I’ve been feeling for Maverick, while still feeling some sick sense of loyalty to Gabriel.
Even though our marriage was arranged and he’s spent the last eight years taking advantage of me in every way imaginable, I can’t help but feel like letting myself fully embrace my emotions for Maverick would be cheating on Gabriel.
And even if my feelings for Maverick were reciprocated, it would feel unwise to dive directly into another romantic relationship when I’m still figuring out who I am on my own.
I don’t know how long I sit on the beach, running through countless hypothetical scenarios in my head until I finally come to a conclusion that has a proud smile pulling at the corners of my mouth.
For once, I’m not gonna let anyone dictate my feelings or my actions.
I’m done letting others—especially men—influence how I move through the world.
It’s time I took control of my own life, and I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sacrifice my own happiness just for the sake of propriety.
Fuck that. I know what I want and I deserve to be selfish for once, just like Maverick said.
By the time I’m ready to head back to camp, the sun is dipping behind the trees.
I don’t have so much as a match, let alone a flashlight or a lantern that will help me navigate through the forest in the dark.
I was distracted when I walked here, so I really don’t even know how to get back to camp aside from trying to retrace my steps.
Shit.
A deafening clap of thunder has me jumping, and I look up just in time to notice the dark gray clouds that have rolled in over the island.
I get off the beach and back under the cover of the trees right as the sky seems to open up.
Instead of the climate’s normal misty drizzle, this rain pours down in a sheet so powerful it’s blinding.
The canopy offers little shelter, and my clothes become soaked in a matter of seconds.
I swipe at the brown curls plastered to my forehead as water drips off my hair and into my eyes, making it even harder to see where I’m going.
Teeth chattering and body shivering, I stumble across the muddy terrain toward what I hope is camp, but I’m starting to get worried.
What if I can’t find my way back? What if I get hypothermia or pneumonia?
Every passing moment has me feeling more and more panicked until my fear becomes paralyzing.
It’s too dark and I’m too cold to try and find any kind of shelter, so I hunker down against a large tree trunk, prepared to wait until morning. I should be able to get back to camp once it’s light. I hope.