Page 6

Nothing is fucking okay.

“I’m fine,” I say, instead. “Just a long day.”

“Maybe you want to hang around for a while?” Her hand rests on my thigh, falling into the role she’s been taught so well. “I can help you out for once.”

Bile rolls in my stomach, squelching any possible desire. Even though she’s completely out of reach, the only woman I think about like that is Imogene.

I miss her so much. Her innocent smile, her kindness and compassion, the way she instinctively knows how to take care of those around her. It’s what I thought I was doing all those years, but I was really just another layer in the system of abuse.

Still am.

Despite Imogene, the idea of having sex with Charlotte makes me physically ill. In a few days she’ll be sent off to her new owner.

And I’ll be the one making the trade.

Her hand drags upward, toward my crotch, while she leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against my neck. I swallow, trying to still my stomach, and ease Charlotte’s hand off my leg. “I don’t think so, sweetheart. I have a few other people to check up on tonight.”

“Oh,” she pulls back, but takes my rejection in stride. I don’t sleep with the Fallen, even though Anex would approve. Someone needs to be there for them, look out for their health and needs. I know it’s not much, but it’s all I can do, at least while they’re still here.

“Any update on my Rising?”

“Soon,” I tell her, standing to create some distance.

Rising. That’s what he—we—are calling it. Rising back into society. The first step out of the status of Fallen. From the ashes, blah blah blah. Anex has waxed poetically about it to me for the last month. It’s just a shiny word for an ugly, terrifying thing. Sex-trafficking.

“I hope I’ve passed all my tests.”

She has. Medically, psychologically, physically. Charlotte is the perfect fit for our first trade. She’s pretty, docile, compliant, and willing to do anything Anex asks of her.

“You’re going to do great,” I tell her, hating myself for every word. Hating myself more for what I do next. My hand dips into my pocket and I pull out the green pill. “Here you go.”

Her eyes light up. She gets one every morning and every night. A special blend of narcotics created here in Serendee. It’s to keep the Fallen complacent, enough not to fight back while regaining enough strength not to look like shit for the buyers.

She happily takes it, swallowing it as fast as she can, then curls back on the bed, like she was when I came in. “Thanks, Silas.”

I don’t respond, I don’t even breathe again until I’m out of the room, door locked tight. What I’m doing is so fucking wrong, but what other choice do I have?

I hear footsteps coming down the hallway and tense, but it’s just the food delivery person. I watch as he stops at each door. I don’t miss the taser on his hip, and he does his job expertly, no engagement, no conversation, just dropping off one plate and retrieving the one from the prior meal. The heavy doors click into place as he walks to the next room.

He nods as he passes, popping into Charlotte’s room. I start to make my way down the hall, but then he pauses in front of Rex’s room, and I stop.

I don’t have access to his room. Anex didn’t give me the passcode, which is understandable. Keeping us apart is just another nail in our punishment. I watch as he hesitantly approaches Rex’s room, free hand shifting to the taser. This is also understandable. There’s no fucking way Rex makes anything easy on anyone in here. He visibly braces himself and punches in the code. This time he doesn’t go in, just slides the food across the floor and jumps back out.

Like Rex is a wild animal or something.

He scurries off, and on instinct I dart forward, shoving my foot in the empty space before the door catches. I know it’s possible I’m being watched, but fuck it. My friend is hurt and I’m going to check on him.

I duck inside, wedging a handkerchief between the jamb and the door to keep it from locking.

Rex is flat on his back, the skin under his eye swelling and discolored. Blood oozes from a split lip. From my vantage, I see his chest rise and fall, confirming he’s at least breathing.

“Hey,” I say, nudging his shoulder. “Rex.”

He shifts, a groan caught in his throat, and relief washes over me. It’s been weeks since I’ve seen him and it’s clear the time has been hard on him, at least physically. Although he’s still big—tall and broad shouldered—his muscle mass is waning, his cheeks gaunt and under the forming bruises I see dark shadows under his eyes.

“Brother, wake up,” I say, trying to push his frame closer to the wall. It takes both hands to move him over enough for me to sit next to him.

He blinks and our eyes meet. “Silas?”