Page 26 of Jump or Fall

Mara - Ten Years Earlier

M ara could feel everyone’s eyes on her when she arrived with Max. Any conversations that had been taking place turned to hushed whispers. Her face flushed, and she wondered if she could slip by the driver and run into traffic.

She risked a glance. The driver stared straight ahead, unfazed by the low chatter around them.

The clenching in her stomach loosened a little once they made it into the Armory. The familiar smell of the joiner at work and the room full of armor was comforting.

Bile rose in the back of her throat, and she bit the inside of her cheek. How could she dare to think that when Lukas was rotting in a box?

She shoved the thoughts of him away. Crying here was out of the question. It was already unusual that a woman was training to be an armorer. She couldn’t afford to look weak.

“You’re late, Mara,” Geller said, tapping on his tablet, glasses perched on the end of his nose. Then, he looked up and his posture stiffened. He cleared his throat. “Is there something I can help you with, Max?”

“Nope.” Max turned and started to walk away. “Just keep her away from the knives.”

“What?” Geller stammered. “Her job requires working with blades.”

“Then babysit. I’m not getting fucking stabbed and Knight will have something to say with his hands if anything happens to her. ”

Mara could see a vein throbbing in the side of Geller’s head as he snapped his attention to her. “In my office.”

Eyes on the floor, she followed. Thankfully, everyone in the Armory was preoccupied with their tasks and had barely registered Max’s presence.

Geller’s desk, as always, was impeccably organized. Every pen and document was in its precise place. How he kept it that way was a mystery.

With a long exhale, he set his glasses down and folded his hands on the desk. “Why is Max dropping you off at work and laying threats?”

“I’m not talking about this.”

“Mara, I need to know. Are you involved with Secretary Knight?”

“No,” she spat. “He fucking kidnapped me and murdered my boyfriend.” She was too embarrassed to admit to everything he’d done.

Geller didn’t even flinch. The stillness in his face made her want to scream.

“He’s still allowing you to work, though?”

“Obviously,” she scoffed. “Why are you so unsurprised by this? I just told you I was kidnapped! And Lukas…” Tears were forming again in the corners of her eyes. Her face was so damn sore.

Geller pulled a glass and bottle of brown liquor from under his desk. He poured a generous amount and handed it to her. “This is the way things are, Mara. The Silvers have a custom of taking women as part of their initiation, and many continue once they are members.”

“He said he’s keeping me… I don’t know what to do.” It was awkward talking about this with Geller. If she had a grandpa, she figured it would feel similar.

“A Silver has the option to either keep the woman or let her go. The caveat to keeping a woman is that he’s responsible for her care and behavior.

It’s an old tradition that started with some mountain people.

Most choose to let their first go since they’re usually young and not established enough to take care of her.

If he keeps her, then she can’t be touched by anyone else. ”

“So any woman walking around is just up for grabs by one of these psychos?”

He shook his head. “Married women and women with children are untouchable. This is discovered in the tracking phase.”

She was stunned. He had been stalking her like an animal. If she had known, maybe she could’ve convinced Lukas to marry her.

“How the hell is this legal?” She knew the Silvers killed enemies of the state. But this was new and terrifying. Growing up they were told to always behave well since a Silver could be watching. If you followed the laws, they’d leave you alone.

Mara’s only crime was existing.

“Deep pockets and even deeper connections. They are very methodical in how they operate. Secretary Knight is their head, and he oversees all state security, including the enforcers and Surveillance.”

Somehow, she felt even more trapped than before. There was no way to leave the city unless you had special permission, and it would be hard to hide from the people literally watching everyone.

She took a drink and fought the urge to cough as it burned her throat.

“How do you know all this?”

He reached into a drawer and withdrew a black wooden box. He placed it in front of her and pried it open. Inside was a pair of ornate black gloves with inch-long metal claws at the fingertips.

“This is what we had before the innovative implants. Like those, the gloves were reserved for the higher ranks.”

A chill went up her spine and she backed away. The liquor was working its way back up, and she almost gagged.

“There’s no reason to be afraid. I haven’t given a stripe in decades, and my woman-stealing was farcical. Not to mention that you have been claimed.”

“You fake kidnapped women? ”

“Only two. The first was my initiation. I managed to convince a girl to let me kidnap her with a senior Silver. The senior member is only there to ensure the deed is done.”

The thought of someone watching made it even worse. “And the second?”

“She asked me to take her. I was a better option than the Silver who had his sights on her.”

“Why would you even join them?”

He rubbed his chin. “Connections, connections, connections. If you want to have any kind of status in this city you have to appease them somehow.”

“Did you keep either of them?”

“Both.”

“Do you keep them forever?”

“Some do. There are no rules on it. I’m afraid Secretary Knight isn’t likely to renounce you without severe repercussions. I offered mine renunciation of my claim if they wanted it. The first took the offer and is happily married with three children. The second is still with me.”

She took another drink.

“You have a choice, Mara. Obey him and make your life bearable by continuing on your endeavor as an armor maker… or succumb to despair. I hope you choose the former.”

***

She traced the lines of a soft armor pattern with one finger, trying to stay focused as Dawson’s thumbs pressed into the tense muscles of her shoulders.

It didn’t make sense .

This was the man who’d taken her off the street and murdered her boyfriend. So far, he’d kept his promise to be gentle. That first night had been the worst, and he hadn’t cut her again.

The second night, she’d tried to hide by wedging herself into a corner of the closet.

She couldn’t escape the house—the housekeepers watched everything.

When he’d found her huddled against the wall, she expected to be yelled at and dragged out by the hair.

Instead, he lifted her carefully and carried her to the bed—like they were fucking newlyweds.

Days like this, with him casually brushing her hair aside, she questioned herself. Did it really happen that way? The screams, the blood. The pain.

Then she’d feel the tug of the scars, and it would all come back.

Her life had taken on a new, fucked-up normal and she needed to figure out how to break free. But it never felt possible. Not with every eye watching and still being escorted around by Max.

Max was disgusting in his own way. His appearance was like a caricature of the skeevy pervert with greased hair and an inability to keep his eyes to himself. Dawson at least knew how to pretend.

Karena strutted into the kitchen and grabbed a plate before sitting at the table across from her. Dawson didn’t acknowledge her presence and continued to read over her shoulder.

Sighing dramatically, Karena plated up her food. “When will we get to use knives again in this house?” She shot a glare at Mara.

Dawson stopped rubbing her shoulders and placed his hands on the back of the chair.

“If your mouth is bored,” he said, “I have something you can do with it.”

Mara’s heart thumped loudly in her chest. There was always some kind of tension when she was around. Karena had been on better behavior than that first day, but they mostly avoided each other. Today, however, she seemed to be in a defiant mood .

Mara watched her take a bite of an apple slice and lick her lips in a seductive way while Dawson approached. He caressed her neck, then kissed the top of her head.

“Play nice,” he said, and left the room.

Karena’s grin said she was pleased with herself. Mara gnawed at the inside of her cheek and stood to leave.

“You know he’ll never love you, right?” Karena taunted.

Mara looked into her large blue eyes. “I don’t think I’m the one confused about that.”

Her face contorted in disgust. “You’re just a low-class Kaplan slut, and he’ll be done with you soon.”

Mara sighed. “Why do you want him? Didn’t he kidnap you too?”

The look in her eyes was wild. “He’s strong and takes what he wants. I can’t respect a man who lets others walk all over him.”

Mara shook her head and left. There was something wrong with that woman, and it was pointless to argue. She often noticed a glazed-over look in her eyes and suspected she was using drugs.

Maybe Karena just needed a job—something that could take her mind off Dawson.

***

A new batch of fabric was waiting for Mara in the vault. It arrived before noon, but she’d been so busy repairing connectors it slipped her mind. The day was almost over, but she needed to get it all sorted. Geller would be furious if it wasn’t stored properly with the inventory updated.

Damn it. There was a new color. She would need to create a new category in the system for it.

A hand clamped down on her arm. She jerked and spun around—Dawson.

“Just me, doll. ”

Why is he here?

He closed the vault door and pulled her in for a kiss. His mouth urged hers to open as his hands trailed down her body. She tried to pull away, but he caught her wrists, locking her in place.

“We can’t do this here,” she said, regretting the words as they left her mouth.

His eyebrows rose. “I’m Dawson Knight, and I can do whatever the fuck I want. Get on those pretty little knees, or the stripe will be first.”

Her stomach dropped. She had been doing so well—why did she have to be so stupid?

Never talk back, you idiot.

Reluctantly, she obeyed, trying to focus on the fabric she had been sorting. The sound of his belt distracted her, but she tried to find something to count. That was the easiest method for slipping away, counting things.

The thought of someone walking in made her start to tremble and she couldn’t count. By now, everyone knew about them. She felt the judgmental stares and heard the whispers. But Dawson rarely visited Hyperion. When he did, he barely spoke to her.

The fabric. Think about the fabric. If she couldn’t count, then she could think of the details. The varieties and strength ratings. She clung to the pattern she had studied that morning, trying to recall every stitch placement.

A hand held the back of her head, and it became difficult to breathe.

Disconnect.

Disconnect.

Joiner sounds.

Tap. Tap.

What was the seam allowance for that pattern?

At the edge of her senses, there was a low noise, and she had to fight the sudden urge to vomit.

Don’t throw up. Don’t .

Why did he have to take her only refuge? Hyperion was the one place she could forget. Now it was tainted.

At least her trick had worked—she only felt some of it.

The click of his buckle marked the end, and he hauled her to her feet. She stumbled, unsteady, and the room tilted as nausea gripped her.

He turned her around and unbuttoned her blouse just enough to expose her shoulders.

“I may not have been the first to fuck you,” he said, lightly dragging a claw across her skin, “but every stripe will be mine.”

The claw pierced her flesh and she slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry.

“You’ll get used to this.” He chuckled. “Just like you got used to me.”

He placed a bandage over the cut and leaned close to whisper, “No medi-spray. This one, I want to enjoy.”

***

Mara went straight to her room that night and refused to come out, even when a housekeeper tried to make her eat.

When she’d used the stitcher, it slipped out of her hand from the strange angle, sending a jolt of pain through her shoulder. Working in reverse with the mirror was infuriating.

She thought she could escape this—if she just listened, if she did everything he said. Karena was the bad one. It made sense she had so many stripes.

Damn it, why’d she have to talk back? She would have to be more careful.

How far was he going to go with her in public?

She shoved that worry aside. She’d made it this long.

Curled up in her comfortless bed, her thoughts traveled to dark places. Sleep was a far-fetched idea, but at least she had her fantasies.

Someday, she would be free.

Someday, she would kill him.