Page 41 of Cold-Blooded Creatures

“They tried and almost succeeded. We used to be a disorganized mess, attempting to end the cruel methods of population growth control the cities exercised without any coordination or strategy. Twelve years ago, Ilasall lost its tolerance toward us and launched a war. I will not go into details, but they had to retreat.” As he ran a hand through his hair, loose strands fell over each other like swords clashing. The view outside the windows pulled his attention, like the darkness meant something to him. “They say hope is the last thing to die in a person, but hatred burns even brighter. Despite the losses on our side, we continued running and rose back up. Our numbers increased rapidly. We became what we are now.”

That couldn’t be the full story. He had omitted the parts that caused Zion to look so distressed he clutched the edge of the table, his knuckles as white as the dinner plates.

Gedeon went on. “We evolved. We established an underground network of contacts who chose to live in the citiesbut work for us. They take care of matters from the inside, so we can slide in when the time is opportune, bringing as many city dwellers as we can back to the compound. Ilasall cannot come after us without us knowing about it first anymore.”

So that was their strategy of annihilating the city. Eislyn had mentioned they employed the help of insiders. Smart. I had to give it to them. Easier to squash the enemy down to nothing from two sides at once.

“Here, no one cares about your fertility status.” Jayla cut her chicken into pieces, her knife grating against her plate. “You can live your life freely—no one can own you. If you want children, have them, but if you don’t, not a single person is permitted to force you. The rule from years ago stands to this day. You’re safe.”

Safe. It couldn’t be true. How could anyone be safe in this world?

Except I’d seen people out on the street and around this table coexisting peacefully.

“Who are you? All of you,” I asked.

“He’s our brooding leader.” Sadira punched Gedeon’s shoulder. “Zion is his second-in-command. But many here cannot fathom that because he’s missing a few screws in his head.”

Zion licked the tip of his dinner knife. “Are you saying you miss my screwing?”

“Don’t mind them.” Eislyn rested her utensils diagonally on her finished plate, the metal clanking against the ceramic, far away from the discarded tomato slices stacked on top of each other at the curved edge. “Sadira leads our tech team, Ryder works under her, I work with our doc, Jayla in one of our bars, and Eli with Ezra handle training everyone and our operations together with Zion.”

So no population control, but what about power?

I surveyed the large table. “So men are still the ones in charge?”

Ezra’s laugh boomed, and Zion bit his fist to mask his own as everyone else gave in.

Great. Not like it was supposed to be a serious question. I wished sarcasm had an expression I could glue on my face.

“If you keep this up, then not for long.” Sadira pointed a bite of tomato stuck on her fork at me. “I bet on it.”

It didn’t sound so bad—to have an army of their people to command.

“If you say this place offers freedom, then why won’t you let me go?”

Gedeon tapped the edge of his still full plate. “Because your plate is empty.”

Glancing down, I flinched in surprise. Not a single pea remained on my plate. The waistband of my pants stretched around my bloated stomach. I hadn’t realized how hungry I was.

And now he wouldn’t answer any more of my questions. I doubted others would provide me with the information I sought. Most likely, they’d do as told by their leader—my kidnapper.

“Do you want another deal?” He rolled his black shirtsleeves up, and I involuntarily leaned in. Ink curled around his right wrist, all the way to the middle of his forearm, resembling a wide and detailed cuff. The black ink resembled branches and twigs, all bare, leafless, except the top one, where a small silhouette of a bird perched, its wings folded. Near the wrist, hidden between all the thicker and thinner lines, a few trunks of trees concealed themselves.

He had a tattoo of an abstract forest with a bird gazing into the horizon.

I hadn’t seen a tattoo in real life before. Prisoners were the select few who had them in Ilasall, and the ink was far from intricate—a string of numbers etched on the back of their necks.

“Drink the water, and I will answer three more questions today.” Gedeon indicated a glass in front of me, its sides matte from the condensation, disturbed only by a drop running down to the bottom. It seemed to sigh in pleasure, sinking into the wood like it was content to leave its brothers and sisters to join a different world.

I raised my head. “Ten.” Three questions were not nearly enough.

“This is not a negotiation. But as you have been on tolerable behavior tonight, I will concede to five.”

Tolerable behavior? He hadn’t had a glimpse into what I was planning to do to him.

But I had to get answers.

“Fine.” I gulped the water down as fast as I could, wiping off the runaway drops from my chin with the back of my hand. “Why am I here?”