Page 67 of Elas (Mate’s Mark #2)

August

The night was spent in a series of fitful tossing and turning.

I’d fallen asleep eventually, wrapped up in Elas’s arms. My face shoved into his skin to avoid the unfamiliar smells of bleach and lemon industrial cleaners, and my ear pressed against his chest to focus on the steady thump of his heart.

If I closed my eyes, I could pretend that this had all been a nightmare.

But it’s not a nightmare, despite my childish wishes, and last night I did something I’ve never done in my life.

I prayed.

That this was all some giant misunderstanding.

That I imagined all the horrors we’d seen within these walls.

But as Elas and I arrive in the main building, the last spark of hope remaining in my chest is extinguished as I glance between the faces roaming the lobby. No one is crying or distraught about the treatment of those prisoners.

No one cares .

There are soldiers in their leathers, medical staff in their scrubs, and one scientist that wanders by in a white lab coat. They’re working. Doing their jobs.

Calmly going about their day.

“Ah, good. You’re here,” a now-familiar voice says.

We turn to find Gale walking towards us, his barbed tail whipping behind him as he flashes his daggered teeth.

“We’re preparing for our first procedure of the day.

August, retrieve the subject in cell E08 and bring them to Lab 2.

” There’s a touch of malice loaded in his smile as he tilts his head at me.

“I trust you remember where everything is?”

“Yes, of course, sir,” I say, my voice unsteady. His smile spreads as he passes me a keycard, and I take it before he can notice how much my hands are shaking.

“Oh, I almost forgot this.” He thrusts a small metal tube into my palm, seeming to relish my discomfort.

“A few have been here long enough that they no longer wear their collars, but most of them need a reminder from time to time. Before you remove them from their cells, hold this against the lock until it beeps. That will sync the remote to their collar. If they’re difficult, press the button… for as long as you need it.”

The remote sits in my hand like a live grenade, and all I want to do is chuck it into the distance and watch it explode.

Nerves form a fist around my heart and squeeze as I will my feet to move, and the effort it takes me to turn is excruciating.

The first steps are always the hardest, and it feels like my legs are cased in cement as I finally get one to lift .

Elas’s presence behind me is my only comfort, until that, too, is ripped away.

“Officer Elas?” Gale calls, and we both freeze.

“While he’s working, I wanted to discuss a few things with you.

” A sharp, almost painful click from Elas’s throat cuts through the air, and the pull between us is agonizing as it’s severed.

“Of course,” he responds, his voice steady and sure.

And then that presence is hacked away, and that cement on my legs is suddenly an anchor as I try to swim.

One foot, then another, and I scream at my body to just move.

It’s like a lucid dream as I find myself in front of the doors, not remembering the walk there.

The electronic beep of the keypad and mechanical scrape of the locks are claws against my brain.

I don’t look behind me, can’t risk fleeing back to my safety, and the door closes with a foreboding click. It’s quieter in here. No employees roam the hallway, and the test subjects—the prisoners— are mostly silent, with a few murmured conversations slipping between barred doors.

The row of cells to my right is labelled A, the one to my left marked with a B.

The pad of my feet might as well be a drum as I walk forward, finding section E and pausing outside the door.

Another wave of the badge, another click of the lock, and everything falls into a deathly silence as I step inside.

Haunted eyes peer at me from behind their cell doors, not enough life left in them to show any signs of curiosity. Bile rises in my throat, burning the back of my tongue as the smell hits me. Glancing at the barebones cells, I wonder how often they’re allowed to bathe.

Cell E08 houses a human woman, not an inch over five feet tall. What was once bright, olive-toned skin is now dull and sallow, sores forming a starburst pattern around her face. “Hi,” I say softly, and her brown eyes flick up to mine. “My name is August, and I—”

“Fuck you,” she spits, and the contempt in her eyes makes me step back. “Traitor.”

“I’m not—”

“Fucking traitor !” She tries to yell, but there isn’t enough power in her voice to make it more than a rasping breath. “How could you side with them?”

I’ve never felt so small.

I’m desperate to tell her I’m not like them, that I could never be like them, and that I’m only here to help. But I can’t risk exposure for the sake of my beaten-down conscience.

I force another swallow, the acid in my throat caustic as it slides lower.

“I need to transport you to the lab,” I finally say, and her gaze brands my skin as I force myself to press the shock collar remote against her lock.

It beeps, and the burst of passion in her eyes from our exchange quickly fades.

They become dim again. Two dimensional—nothing more than glass orbs as she detaches herself from this reality and withdraws into her head.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper as I replace the remote with my keycard, and the cell door clicks open with a decisive clank. My fingers gently wrap around her skeletal arm, and she finds that last bit of fire inside her as she yanks it away.

“I know the drill,” she mutters, and I leave a piece of my heart at the door of her cage as I lead her away, nothing more than a reaper that heads the gallows walk to her inevitable doom.

By the time the day is almost over, I’m numb. Detached in a way I’ve never felt before. Gale has kept Elas busy, though he hasn’t left the building. It’s the only comfort I’ve had—those fleeting glimpses of his familiar face across the room, and the momentary eye contact that begs me to hold on.

I thought I knew what I was getting into here, but this?

This I never saw coming.

I’ve moved seven subjects from their cells into their labs.

Strapped seven bodies to cold metal tables.

Six of them didn’t bother resisting, and the one that fought was another hard-learned lesson.

“Shock him,” the monster in the room with me spat, before snatching the remote from my hand and jabbing the button.

He held it down for five agonizing seconds.

Five seconds doesn’t sound like much, does it?

It sounds like the blink of an eye until you’re watching electricity course through someone’s body, seizing their muscles and stealing their ability to breathe. Foaming, frothy drool dripped down the subject’s chin by the time the monster beside me released the button .

I could’ve saved him from some of it. Could’ve pressed the button myself and avoided those extra endless moments of pain.

But I hesitated, and he paid for my cowardice.

The optimistic outlook I’ve maintained on life cracks right down the middle. Every patient’s scream adds another fissure. Every hatefully injected needle and too-tight grip on too-thin bodies is a hammer against that positivity until it’s nothing but spiderwebbed glass in front of me.

After just a day, it’s threatening to shatter.

“G02,” the new medic in the room calls over his shoulder.

This is the Bemesse that was part of the impromptu welcoming committee yesterday, though there are no signs of warmth or familiarity.

Aside from barking orders and complaining about my incompetence, no one has spoken to me.

They don’t care that I just arrived, only that I’m in their way.

I nod even though no one is looking at me, and step through the hallway into the main lobby.

My eyes search for Elas, terrified of the time I walk out here and find him gone—discover that they’ve sent him on his way, and that he’s abandoned me here.

Relentless, crushing fear leaves me nauseous, and my empty stomach clenches until I find the back of his head.

Relief makes me so dizzy, I stumble on my feet, barely catching myself before falling to the ground. Elas either hears or senses me, turning to meet my eyes over his shoulder. Another unbearable impulse hits me, desperate to run to him and beg him to sweep me from this hell.

Instead, I move back through the double doors and walk to the furthest cluster of cells, my ears buzzing as I push through. I approach the barred door, offering a soft greeting like I have with the others, even as I sync the remote to the collar around her neck.

None of them have wanted my name.

None of them have cared, but I have to say it.

I have to show them that someone inside this horrid place views them as people , even if my only weapon is basic decency. “Hi. My name is—”

“August?”

My eyes flip up as the woman steps forward, and that acrid sensation that’s bubbled in my gut all day ratchets up.

My hand flies over my mouth as I fight to push it back down, my gaze searching her sunken cheeks and flaking, chapped lips.

Umber skin that was once vibrant is muted, and green eyes that once were so full of light they were hard to look at are now flat.

A leader who demanded respect is diminished, a shadow of her former self.

“Taryn?” I whisper, staring into the eyes of the woman who’d commanded her camp with integrity. Someone admired by everyone she met, and who never backed down from a challenge.

She’s broken.

Defeated in a way that snaps my composure right in half as a tear streaks her face.

“August, what are you… how are you…” She sweeps my frame, recognizing the military-issued scrubs on my body and the device in my hand, and her lips pull back in a surprised snarl. “How could you?”

I glance over my shoulder, but the hallway remains empty.

“Please,” I hiss, “it isn’t what it looks like.

I can’t… I ha ve to be careful.” She’s unsure, but leans in closer to hear my near-silent words.

“Taryn, you know me. You know me. You know how much I need to help .” I stress the last word, and her eyes don’t dare to hope, but they relax. “What happened?”

She swallows, the sound so dry it makes my skin crawl, before she pushes up her sleeve. Once-toned arms have weakened and thinned, and a glowing mark shines just above her elbow. “Lillith,” she whispers, a wobbly half-smile pulling on her lips. “She was a guard in the prison at Glaston.”

“Was?” I ask, dread boiling in my empty stomach again.

“We had only been in that cell a few days when the mark showed up. She was so happy to have a mate. She told her commanding officer, and within a few hours, we were thrown in a van and brought here.”

“I take it you fought?”

A huff that’s almost a laugh blows from her lips. “Of course I did.”

“And Lillith? Is she…” Saliva pools in my mouth, another wave of nausea hitting me hard.

“She’s here. They let me see her every few days, but just for a few minutes.

” That microscopic smile fades as her eyes glaze over.

“Sometimes, I think it would be easier if they didn’t.

Maybe then I wouldn’t remember what it’s like to be around her.

Is that awful?” Her eyes meet mine again, imploring.

“No, Taryn. You aren’t awful.” I glance towards the double doors, knowing we’re running out of time. “I’m so sorry… I have to take you to the lab,” I say, my voice qu ivering. “It’ll be worse if they come looking for us. They can’t realize we know each other.”

She nods and takes a step back as I open the door, suppressing the urge to wrap her in my arms and give her a moment’s comfort.

Instead, I offer her a shaky smile and turn to lead her to the lab, when she grabs my hand and stops me.

“If you can get out of here, just go. Leave while you can. Save yourself.”

“You expect me to leave you behind?” I whisper, and her eyes pool with tears as her lip trembles.

“If whatever they’re injecting me with doesn’t kill me, then a bullet to the head will. We both know I’ll attack them again at some point.” I almost smile at the familiar rebellion in her voice, even as I fight tears. “I’m as good as dead, anyway, August. We all are.”

“Don’t say that,” I plead in a low whisper, glancing towards the door again. “You can’t give up yet, okay? You can’t—” A buzz blares in the quiet, and she assumes a passive stance again. We walk into the hallway as the Bemesse medic storms in our direction.

His nostrils flare when he sees Taryn behind me. “Should’ve known this one would take forever. She likes to fight.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Yeah, she does.”