Page 29 of Jump or Fall

Mara

M ara reached the fifth floor and used the key to get in. The evening lights had been left on intentionally, and she headed for the living room where she’d left her tablet.

It wasn’t there—but the scent of cologne was.

“Where have you been, doll?”

Ice flooded her veins.

No. No. No. No.

This couldn’t be happening. They were going to destroy them—they were so close.

Dawson stepped out of the kitchen, holding her tablet.

“This is interesting,” he mused. “Your tablet is moving, but you were nowhere to be seen.”

He closed the gap between them and tossed it onto the coffee table. She turned to retreat—only to bump into Max, who knocked her back toward Dawson. He caught her wrists, yanking her arms behind her back, and forced her face down onto the couch.

“Wait outside, Max.”

She should have run when she had the chance. How could she have been so stupid to think he wouldn’t catch her? He always knew everything .

Terror gripped her like a vise. His violence always lingered like a shadow cast over her life. But this was the fear she’d tasted the day he dragged her off the street, the first time he’d sunk his claws into her skin.

Cold metal tightened around her wrists and she heard a click .

“Where have you been?”

She tried to steady her breathing, but with his weight pressing down on her back, it was near impossible. “I like to walk around at night.”

Dawson shoved his hands under her shirt and bra, searching for something. He found nothing, so switched his attention to her pants, patting her down. She tried to squirm, but couldn’t get leverage.

He paused when he found the key, then pulled it from her pocket. “Where did you get this?”

“I bought it.”

He threw it to the floor and crushed it under his foot, shattering any hope of being found.

Dawson fisted her hair and pulled her head back. She clenched her teeth as pain flared along her scalp and neck.

“You were never a skiff-head brat like Karena, or a whore like Liv,” he growled into her ear. “Something else is going on… But you’re definitely fucking someone.” He brought her closer and breathed deep. “I can smell him.”

“No.”

“Don’t fuckin’ lie to me.” He shoved her head back down.

“I’m tempted to slice that pretty throat open right now and be done with you.” He jerked her up to her feet. “But there are lessons to be learned tonight.”

She struggled to break free, but he struck her with the back of his hand, nearly knocking her to the floor. She reeled from the impact, her mind fogged by a storm of hatred and defeat.

Max was waiting in the hallway and fury surged through her. She tried to kick him but he just exchanged a look with Dawson and followed behind.

They led her downstairs where the car was waiting, much like the time they had dragged her off the street ten years ago.

Dawson pushed her in and got in behind her. The metal cuffs around her wrists were digging into her skin as she tried to sit back. He settled next to her with an expression of contempt. Unlike when he’d kidnapped her, his gaze remained elsewhere.

Mara watched outside as the car began to move, trying to figure out where they were going. At first she suspected they would be going to Division One, but the sharp turn said they were going the opposite direction—toward the other Divisions.

A stab of fear jolted her. Did they have Gordon?

The city lights passed by in a blur of colors and the towering buildings only grew taller. Six had some of the tallest ones, so that must’ve been where they were.

The car stopped in a poorly lit area with a number of run-down buildings. Dawson opened the door and yanked her from the car.

“Don’t even think of running,” he hissed. “The enforcers are looking for a woman in handcuffs.”

The streets around them were empty, but that didn’t mean there weren’t eyes watching.

He took hold of her arm and led her toward a derelict building, its exterior cracked and weather-worn. The windows were black with grime, and the ground outside littered with trash. Her heart rate kicked up again. What was this place?

Once inside, she realized it was a facade.

The building was clean, with freshly painted walls and the floors that had recently been scrubbed. They marched her up a set of stairs to a heavy door with a hand scanner.

Dawson placed his hand on it and the door popped open. The room they entered was lined with monitors and desks. The screens displayed various parts of the city.

This was a Surveillance office .

The only person in the room was a man she didn’t recognize. He stood by a large desk, but he didn’t spare her a glance.

Dawson thrust her in front of the desk where the man was waiting and took a seat.

“You were always the best one,” Dawson started. “The smartest one. Haven’t you had a good life? You have a prestigious job and you get to do what you want. All I’ve ever asked of you is to obey. But no, I find you sneaking in late at night with a fucking override key.”

She stayed silent, clinging to thoughts of Gordon. The smoothness of his fingertips. His breath against her lips. The way he smiled. He would be her armor. If she died tonight, he would be her final thought.

“Wells, have you given a stripe yet?”

“No, sir.”

Wells…

Her eyes darted to the stranger. He appeared to be in his late twenties, with shoulder-length brown hair and a square jaw. He almost reminded her of a younger Gordon.

Could he be the one who started the fire on her first mission? How many people were named Wells?

Dawson followed her line of sight. “Something you like about him?”

She quickly looked away, but it was too late. He stood and pushed her face down onto the desk. With a swipe of his claw, the back of her shirt split open.

“Mara can be your first. She’s been quite the troublemaker recently.”

Footsteps approached, and Dawson’s grip tightened at the nape of her neck.

There was a soft click . “She barely even flinches now, so it’ll be easy.”

A warm hand pressed against her back, holding her skin taut before the sharp bite of the blade cut across in a swift stroke.

Breathe. Think of Gordon. Wrap yourself in him.

“A clean cut and no hesitation,” Dawson remarked. Settling back into his seat, he kept a loose grip on her head, his fingertips resting at the base of her skull.

“Fuck her.”

“Sir—”

“You think you’re the first to arrange a fake claiming?” Dawson said, amused. “We know you already fucked that girl before. Now you can do it right. I can’t promise you’ll want to keep her after tonight, though.”

She searched frantically for an escape. Dawson patted her head. “I’m sure he’ll be gentle with you, doll. Just pretend it’s me.”

Wells hadn’t moved.

“If you’d like,” Dawson said, “I could get her warmed up for you.” The sound of his belt triggered that familiar urge to step out of her skin. “After so many years, I know exactly what she likes.”

“No, sir,” Wells replied, his voice uncertain. “I’ve got it.” His presence shifted behind her, and she felt a trembling hand on her hip.

Gordon couldn’t shield her from this.

Think of something else.

A faint hum was coming from one of the monitors.

Focus on that.

The waistband of her pants tightened in his grip. Then she was yanked backward off the desk.

Her cuffed hands offered no protection as she slammed onto the floor. A cry tore from her throat, but the deafening crack of a gunshot drowned out the sound.

Disoriented, she searched for the source of the shot. Her ears rang violently, muffling the sounds of chaos around her.

Then she saw it—Wells had the gun and Max was down.

A rough hand shoved her onto her back. Dawson braced one arm across her chest, pinning her.

She squirmed, panic flooding her body as his claws extended.

“No!” she shrieked, desperately trying to break free .

Pain erupted across her face as he raked them through her skin. The world went dark—her eyes burning. Blood gushed over her nose, dripping into her ears as she screamed.

Everything was slipping away, the weight of her body lifting from the ground.

Gordon, please…