Page 35 of Jump or Fall

Mara - Nine Years Earlier

I t was a Saturday, and Mara was desperate for fresh air. She hadn’t crossed paths with Karena yet and wanted to keep it that way.

She despised Karena almost as much as she hated Dawson.

A year had passed, and still, Karena’s hatred only seemed to deepen, festering with each day. Mara had earned a little more freedom and could go a few places without Max. But even that small taste of independence was spoiled by that jealous bitch.

Half the time, Karena pretended she didn’t exist. The other half, she was throwing insults or attempting some kind of sabotage.

Just the day before, Mara had been given a new stripe because Karena had gone into her closet and ripped one of Dawson’s shirts. The week before that, she’d slipped a rotten pineapple under her bed.

Every day, Mara dreaded returning to the house, never knowing what kind of fucked-up surprise awaited her.

What made it worse, though, was that when Karena misbehaved, it was Mara who paid for it. Karena craved his attention, his touch—so he would deny her, choosing Mara instead for his daily fuck. A little skiff helped dull it all, but she couldn’t get hooked. Her work was too important.

The usual breakfast spread of fruits, cheeses, and bread sat mostly untouched on the counter. She grabbed a piece of flatbread, quickly spreading some butter and rose petal jam on it before slipping out the door.

The morning was warm, but the towering trees of Division One provided plenty of shade. She walked to a quiet park nestled against the city wall, the distant crash of waves filling the silence as she ate. If only she could see the water on the other side.

Moments like this made her wonder why she hadn’t tried to run yet. Slipping through the gate out of One probably wouldn’t be that hard. Even if it meant a lifetime of looking over her shoulder, wouldn’t that still be better than living as Dawson’s slave?

Scarring her own face had crossed her mind more than once—but knowing him, he might just kill her rather than let her live in Eight.

She liked to believe her work at Hyperion was the key to her freedom, but a bitter voice in the back of her mind whispered that she’d simply accepted her fate.

Maybe dreams of revenge were just an excuse to stay complacent. The fear she knew was safer than the fear she didn’t.

As the heat climbed, she left the park and started back toward the house. She considered cutting through the shopping district but decided against it. People always stared.

Stepping inside, a rush of cool air hit her skin. She lingered under the vent in the entryway, letting it chase away the warmth clinging to her.

“We need to talk, doll.”

Goosebumps prickled across her arms.

Dawson stood by the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. Karena lingered behind him, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

Mara slipped off her shoes and approached, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor.

“Karena,” he said smoothly, “there's an appointment for you at the salon. You’d better leave now, or you’ll be late. ”

Silence stretched between them, but Karena didn’t argue. Mara heard the swish of her dress as she sauntered past and caught a faint whiff of her lilac perfume.

Mara stayed frozen, her heart pounding against her ribs. She didn’t dare to look up. Had Karena finally gotten her killed this time?

He took her hand and placed something firm against her palm.

A knife.

She yelped and yanked her hand away, sending the blade clattering onto the tile. Bile rose in her throat, every nerve in her body screaming to escape what was coming.

“That was found in your room,” Dawson said, his voice strangely calm. “Do you know how it got there?”

She swallowed hard. “Karena.”

“Why would my love do something like that?”

“You haven’t thrown me away yet.”

He took another step forward, and she felt herself shrinking under the weight of his presence.

Please let it be fast.

“Why should I believe it wasn’t you?”

Her mind raced. She needed to think, needed to convince him.

“I work with blades every day,” she said quickly. “I work with guns and lasers. If I wanted to sneak something back before you unlocked the drawer, I could’ve done it a hundred times by now.”

She flinched as he reached out—but instead of striking her, he pulled her into an embrace.

Chuckling, he said, “Karena may have the pedigree, but you have the brains.” His thumb traced slow circles on her back. “She won’t be bothering you anymore.”

** *

“You must be proud of yourself.”

Mara bristled at the shrill words, but barely glanced up from her coffee. She’d spent the night in Dawson’s bed.

“You’re going to come for me tonight, doll.”

He knew she zoned out when he touched her, so last night he’d done things differently—he hadn’t just taken what he wanted. Any time she tried to slip out of her skin, he’d pull her right back into the moment. A sick part of her wanted to rub it in Karena’s face, tell her every little detail.

Was this how women like her were made? Hating each other so much they ran straight into the arms of their tormentor?

No. She would never feel the way Karena did about Dawson. It didn’t matter if he could make her body betray her.

Mara took another sip, ignoring the furious lunatic glaring at her.

“I’m talking to you!”

Karena seized her arm and spun her around. Mara reacted on instinct, jerking back and slapping her hard across the face. Her palm stung, but the look of complete shock was worth it.

Karena gaped, hand flying to her reddening cheek. “You can’t touch me, you stupid whore!”

She lunged, slamming Mara into the counter. Trapped with nowhere to go, Mara struggled to break free.

A flash of metal caught her eye.

Karena hadn’t noticed the knife yet.

Mara drove her knee up into her stomach, making her double over. Karena let out a pained wheeze and loosened her grip just enough for Mara to break free.

Unable to reach the knife, she grabbed a pan from the drying rack.

Karena regained her footing—and saw it lying there.

Shit.

Smirking, Karena snatched it up and turned the blade over in her hand .

“Since Dawson won’t do it, maybe I’ll carve up that face of yours.” She took a step forward, slashing at the air. “Maybe I’ll even keep one of those freak eyes.”

Mara swatted at her with the pan while backing away.

Karena ran toward her. Mara swung, but missed, ducking away to avoid the knife. She bolted through the kitchen.

Adrenaline surged through her veins. All this time she’d feared Dawson’s claws, and now she was going to be cut to pieces by her .

“Why can’t you just die!” Karena shrieked.

Mara scrambled through the house, lungs burning.

Get to the stairs. Hide in your room.

But that would slow her down. She couldn’t risk it.

She turned the corner and ran straight into Max, toppling him over.

Before she could even blink, Karena was on her, the blade sinking into her shoulder.

Mara cried out, pain tearing through her as the knife twisted.

She clutched a fistful of Karena’s hair and flipped her onto her back. She bashed her head against the floor over and over.

Hands seized Mara’s arms, yanking her away. She shook violently, her breath coming out in sharp bursts. Blood trickled down the sleeve of her shirt as she looked down at the now limp Karena.

You better be dead.

***

Karena wasn’t dead. She ate enough skiff to kill an elephant. Of course, it would take more than a minor head wound to kill her.

It was probably a good thing she hadn’t died. Mara was already anticipating some kind of punishment as she stared at Dawson’s office door.

Her hand shook as she turned the knob.

Breathe .

Karena was already there, slumped in the chair across from him, her face pale and hollowed with defeat.

He beckoned for Mara to approach, so she did and took the seat next to her rival.

“This shit ends now,” Dawson said, seething. “Karena, you’ll move to an apartment on the border of Two. Mara, you’ll remain here—for now.”

Again, she was being punished for Karena’s fuck-ups. With Karena gone, he’d be on her even more. Why did she have to be so fucking crazy? If she would just behave, then he’d give her what she wanted. Maybe he couldn’t give anyone genuine love, but she adored him and practically melted at his touch.

Mara ground her teeth together, but she responded with a stiff nod.

Karena let out a huff before muttering, “Yes, Dawson.”

His gaze darkened as he turned back to Karena. “You tried to steal from me.”

Karena was about to talk back, but he cut her off. “Trying to kill Mara is an attempt to take what’s mine. Your actions reflect poorly on me, and it ends today.”

She jerked her head in understanding, tears trailing down her cheeks.

“Stand. Both of you.”

They obeyed. Karena’s posture was stiff and her eyes still downcast.

A lump formed in Mara’s throat. What was he going to do to her?

Dawson’s voice softened, almost amused. “Mara, I’ll allow you retribution for the stripe that wasn’t hers to give.”

Karena’s head snapped up. “You can’t do this.”

Dawson rose and rounded the desk with deliberate slowness.

He threaded his fingers through her long hair.

“You think this has all been a game, my love.” His lips curled into a cruel smirk.

“You think daddy will swoop in when his precious little girl gets tired of playing with fire.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

“You belong to me, Karena. The Archon can’t save you from the flames. ”

He shoved her over the desk and splayed his hand across her back .

Karena buried her face in her arms as he lifted her blouse, exposing the pale skin of her back—thin and marred by years of scars.

Dawson gestured to Mara. “Come here, doll. This is a special treat for a non-initiate.”

Her feet moved before she could think, carrying her forward against her will.

He extended his hand and the claw on his thumb slid out. “Only proper that you use my blade.”

Mara stared at Karena sprawled across the desk, small and fragile. The girl who had assisted this demon in human skin in turning her life into a waking hell. The girl who, for all her cruelty, had only ever wanted one thing—Dawson’s love.

Her fingers closed around his hand, somehow so still considering what was about to happen. How did cruelty come so easily to him? Was he born evil, or did something make him this way?

Hesitantly, she pressed the blade to Karena’s back and dragged it across. Mara watched the red trail bloom against her flesh as it split.

She deserves this. She’s a monster just like him.

The words were hollow and unconvincing, but the deed had been done. She had given a stripe.

Karena shuddered and turned her head, eyes locking onto Mara with quiet, burning hatred.

This wasn’t over.

Not even close.