Page 4 of Jump or Fall

Mara

W ork the following day was back to normal—no drop-ins from asshole nephews and no unexpected visits from Dawson. Her head still throbbed where she’d hit the floor; drinking hadn’t been the smartest choice after that.

Learning the cameras in her apartment building were fake had been unsettling, but the revelation that Dawson’s erratic schedule was intentional was even worse.

Years ago, she had asked him to let her know when to expect him, so that she could be prepared. The look he’d given her in response had made her think he might kill her on the spot.

“Are you hiding something from me, doll?”

The memory made her stomach twist. She shoved it into the dark corner of her mind where everything about him belonged and refocused on Gordon’s suit.

He had sent the modified enforcer suit specs to her secret tablet and also provided his measurements. But the next steps were tricky.

The stolen suit was in relatively good condition, but a few pieces were too small for him and he needed a custom Araflex layer. As Master Tailor, she had full access to the Armory, but she still needed to account for the excess use of materials and find a way to forge the inventory.

Purchasing them was out of the question. Dawson would see the history and know she’d bought pieces too big for herself .

At least, she already had a suit designated for testing, so she wouldn’t need to account for two suits’ worth of materials. It wasn’t uncommon for her to bring it home for after-hours work, so no one would question her walking out with a carrier.

Mara spun in her chair, trying to drum up ideas for her inventory problem. Maybe Gordon would have an idea. If he could get around biometrics, maybe he could forge numbers.

Getting nowhere, she decided to work on Jasper the Dickhead’s suit.

Inside the vault, she approached the roll of standard Araflex, selected the required amount, and watched as the sheet unrolled. Once cut, she prompted the system to dispense additional fabric for Gordon’s underlayer then discreetly stowed the excess under a cabinet.

Extra fabric was sometimes necessary, after all.

Moving to the storage section, she studied the inventory screens, noting a small hole at the back. She stood at an angle to block the camera and snapped a few photos before selecting the remaining items for Jasper’s suit.

Mara carried the materials to one of the joiners, a glass box big enough to fit the largest possible suit. Placing the Araflex in the holder, she let the robotic arms take over.

After sealing the joiner, she tapped the screen to cut and place the connectors into the Araflex.

The flexible fabric was versatile, stiffening to provide augmented strength and protection from blades.

The connectors were clips that held the ceramic plates in place and completed the link between the separate pieces.

She loved watching it work and inhaling the unique acrid scent created from fusing. It probably wasn’t good for her health, but nothing about her life was. Crafting armor was like water to her, a necessity.

With the connectors in place, she directed the joiner to hook up the plates and then ran diagnostics to ensure everything functioned properly .

Once the suit was complete, she removed it from the joiner and placed it in the fitting room closet, tagging it with Jasper’s name and a color-coded marker indicating it was a first draft. Enforcer suits rarely required revisions—there was nothing for the wearer to be picky about besides fit.

The thought of working with him during the fitting made her feel ill all over again.

She called Asher into her office.

Her apprentice was probably nineteen or twenty—about the age she had been when she started at Hyperion. Back then, Geller had been the Master Tailor, an old-fashioned man who preferred soft armor over advanced plate suits.

He’d probably have another heart attack if he could see the synth-minds at work.

Asher appeared in the doorway, tablet in hand. His short, curly brown hair framed a thin, freckled face.

“Yes, Mara?”

“I’d like you to complete the remainder of Jasper’s fittings. Will that be an issue?”

Asher’s eyes widened. “Um, Secretary Knight already switched his assignment.” He tucked a curl behind his ear with a trembling hand.

“Oh, I see.” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Well, the first draft is finished and hanging up.”

He nodded. “Do you need anything else?”

“Actually, yes.” She held out a folded yard of fabric. “Could you take this sample for a full round of stress tests and forward me the results?”

Asher hesitated to approach.

She sighed and closed the distance instead. Everyone treated her like she carried the plague. The few women who worked here treated her with scorn, and the men were careful not to get too close. Understandable, but frustrating all the same .

He took the fabric but remained still, eyes fixed on the floor. “I’m sorry about yesterday,” he muttered. “I was supposed to do the fitting, but was late coming in. That’s why it got assigned to you last-minute. You were the only one available.”

Of course everyone knew. The shame of being used by Dawson at work had faded years ago, but this was different. She had never been attacked by someone else. Being the newest gossip among her colleagues was like stepping back in time.

“Let’s just forget about it,” she said finally.

Eyes still downcast, he nodded before turning away.

There was no point being upset with Asher. He couldn’t have predicted any of it.

She rubbed the tender wound through her shirt. The stitches and bandage were holding up fine. Once it healed more, she could finish it off with Rapiderm. Until then, she’d have to deal with the occasional snag of the bandage against her shirt.

Sitting down at her desk, she blinked a few times to refocus her eyes on the computer screen and threw herself into the synth-mind work.

***

By the time Mara was ready to leave, the sun had nearly set. The natural light in the room had faded and was gradually replaced by the artificial lighting overhead. The once-steady hum of colleagues moving in and out of the fitting room and vault had dwindled to near silence.

She wasn’t in a rush to leave but she couldn’t stay much longer. Dawson didn’t like her being out late.

She packed away her tablets, ensuring the secret one was tucked into its hidden pocket. Then, she loaded her suit into a carrier and headed out .

The night air was unusually cool but still muggy. Dampness stuck to her skin, carrying the scent of rain just around the corner.

The daily walk home passed in a blur, like usual. Her mind was always occupied by projects.

This time, she opted for the elevator since she had the suit. It had wheels, but she was too drained to drag it up the stairs.

Once home, she deposited everything next to the couch and settled onto the soft cushions. She swung an arm over her eyes and listened to the muffled sounds of her neighbor's television coming through the wall.

A creak from the kitchen interrupted the peace.

“What now?” she groaned.

“Something wrong, doll?” Dawson asked.

Mara’s heart nearly stopped as she bolted off the couch.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I didn’t sleep well.”

He strolled over and pulled her in for a long kiss. “Hmm, thinking about our fun yesterday?”

“Of course.”

His hands glided down her waist, settling on her ass and giving her a hard squeeze.

“Jasper’s fittings will be handled by that apprentice of yours.” He ran a claw up her back and smirked. “He won’t make the mistake of being late again.”

“Thank you.” She hoped Asher hadn’t been given a stripe.

Dawson tilted her chin up and nipped at her bottom lip. “I liked watching you fight.” His voice was low and possessive. “Defending what’s mine.”

“I would never let someone else touch me.” The words tasted like bile, but she knew they would please him.

A slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. Lust darkened his eyes, but something pulled him from the moment. He checked his watch. “As much as I’d love to bend you over right now, I have a date with Nella. You may be my best girl, but I can’t have her getting lonely.”

He’d been mentioning the new girl more often. Well, not so new anymore since it had been at least a year. Mara had never met her since he liked to keep his women separate now.

Karena had been his favorite toy when Mara came into the picture, but her obsessive jealousy cost her everything. Mara had a feeling he was trying to provoke that same possessiveness to fuel his ego. But she wasn’t going to bite.

She hated him.

Obviously, she couldn’t say that. So instead, she offered a quiet, obedient nod.

Dawson waited for a second longer, then turned on his heel and left.

The smell of him lingered, making her nose wrinkle up. She hated his colognes. They were almost as suffocating as him.

She crossed the room and cracked open a window, inhaling the fresh, albeit dense breeze.

A buzz came from her secret tablet.

She frowned, glad Dawson had already left. Who could it be? No one had the contact information linked to it.

G

Are you available to meet tonight? Messages are secure.

M

Yes. When?

G

Now. Downstairs.

She set her main tablet on the couch, not wanting Dawson to track her. She already knew he monitored her. There had been too many moments when he brought up something she’d never mentioned and only searched on the tablet.

The secret device was registered under a pseudonym that she’d purchased with a credit key that wasn’t tied to her account. A small attempt at privacy from the person who controlled her entire life.

She slipped into a black hooded coat then adjusted the edges to make sure it concealed enough of her hair and face.

Her heart pounded. She’d never snuck out like this before.

You can do it. He’s fucking Nella tonight. He won’t be back.

Trembling, she cast a final glance at the quiet apartment, and stepped out.

Dawson wasn’t waiting for her in the hallway, or in the stairwell. By the time she reached the door to go outside, she had almost stopped shaking.

The night air hit her like a damp wall. The smell of the flowering tree in front of the door filled her nose, a pleasant and familiar thing.

She stood still for a moment, unsure of where to look.

Please don’t be a trap.

Before she could decide to search or go back inside, a figure stepped out from behind a hedge.

Mara nearly leapt out of her skin.

Just Gordon. Not Dawson.

“Sorry,” he said, offering a sheepish nod. The collar of his coat was popped up and his hair swept over to the right to conceal the scar.

He gestured ahead. “Uh… this way.”

They moved quickly toward the end of the block. The sun had fully set, and the streets were illuminated by the artificial glow of streetlights and muted advertisements. Division Two didn’t have to deal with the bright flashing neons like the others at night.

Divisions One and Two were always quiet after dark. Most people stayed inside—not only to stay out of trouble, but because of the nightly cleaning cycle. Bots moved methodically through the streets, collecting trash and scrubbing the pavement.

They didn’t speak. Block after block slipped by in silence, broken only by a few cars driving past.

Without warning, Gordon veered into a narrow alleyway, motioning for her to join him. She hesitated a beat before following.

He descended a stairwell tucked between two closed shops and stopped in front of a heavy slate-gray door.

Mara cast a quick glance over her shoulder. No one was watching. At least, no one she could see.

Gordon pulled a slim rectangular device from his pocket and slid it into the key slot. A green light blinked above the latch. Then, with a soft click , the lock disengaged and the door swung open.

Inside was a long, dimly lit tunnel.

Mara stood at the threshold, her heart thudding and her nerves frayed.

What am I doing?