Page 16

Leave the chips and cracks in my sculpture. Capture my failures in all their misshapen beauty.

The next few weeks fell into a torturous routine that made Khalani question her sanity. Multiple times. Takeshi refused to further train her in fighting mechanics until her muscles grew from their infinitesimal size.

Those were his exact words.

So, he pushed her. He worked her to the point where walking was synonymous with pain, and breathing was no longer a quiet affair but a desperate gasp for relief.

Her muscles hurt in places she didn’t even know she had muscles.

Takeshi was never satisfied until she dropped to the floor like a wet rag. Only then would he show mercy and say she was done for the day.

He didn’t show it, but deep down, Khalani knew he enjoyed tormenting her. The bastard. And she must be crazy, because she kept returning.

Today was one of those days where her arms felt like they would fall off if someone pulled on them too hard. She failed to lift a medium- sized rock into the wheelbarrow and let out a pained groan, massaging her triceps.

C’mon, squiggly arms. Work with me here.

“Nothing screams single and lonely more than having to massage yourself.” Derek grabbed the rock from her.

She rolled her eyes and wiped the sweat off her forehead. “We’re in prison, Derek. Like you don’t do the same?”

“Oh. I do.” Derek shrugged with the tiniest grin. “In private.”

Khalani’s face twisted. “Gross.” She grabbed lighter rocks, continuing to work. If she stopped moving, the guards would notice. She didn’t need further pain.

Takeshi was the star employee in that department.

Derek cocked his head. “Captain Steele still has you on tunnel duty?”

Khalani explained her absence to Serene, Derek, and Adan by telling them Takeshi discovered her trying to steal pain meds from the medical ward. Her punishment was extra tunnel duty and lashings every day during pit break. It was the only story that sounded believable.

She nodded, but a feeble voice sounded behind her. “Prisoner 317?”

Khalani turned, and a new guard stared down at her. He was quite young with a baby face, bald head, and eyes so light, they almost appeared yellow.

“Yes?” Her brows drew together.

The young guard straightened further. “I need you to come with me.”

Her muscles froze. Did someone find out about her training sessions with Takeshi? Was she being sent to the surface? No guard had ever pulled her out of her morning shift before.

She knew what to expect with ordinary. The same battles and obstacles lived in the ordinary. Ordinary was survivable. Terror existed in the unknown.

She nodded at the guard, feeling the need to swallow excessively, knowing she had no choice but to follow. He led her away from the tunnel, and Khalani glanced back at Derek, who stared at her with wide eyes.

“Where am I going?” she asked.

The young guard didn’t answer, and the silence suffocated the air around her. She didn’t have time to mentally dissect her thoughts as she followed the guard down the dimly lit, chilly halls.

Her stomach churned after they ascended a few levels in the elevator, and she was led to an obscure metal door.

The guard gave three hard knocks.

“Come in!” a man yelled from the other side in a hoarse voice.

The guard stepped to the side. “The Warden will see you now.”

Her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. She’d never met the Warden, the leader of Braderhelm Prison, before.

Shivers broke out over her body as she warily glanced at the young guard, but he refused to make eye contact. He clutched the gun to his chest and stood stiffly outside the door.

“Go on,” he commanded.

Breathe. Just breathe.

She closed her eyes and opened the door.

The loud creak announced her presence, and she entered an archaic room quadruple the size of her cold cell. Sparks from a fireplace flamed out as a heavyset man in a worn suit sat next to the fire.

The Warden had a black handlebar mustache and well-groomed hair slicked back with gel. He peered up from the electric pad upon her entrance. “Ah, 317. Do come in.”

Khalani took a tentative step forward and jumped as the guard slammed the door shut behind her, leaving her and the Warden alone.

Khalani glanced around cautiously, searching for any weapons she could use. There were none—not even a pen. The dimly lit room contained only a black marble desk, a golden rug spread out in the center of the floor, a dark mahogany cabinet, and two weathered chairs next to the large fireplace .

“It’s just you and me, 317. Please, have a seat.” The Warden gestured to the identical red chair across from him.

Khalani played with her fingers as she stepped closer. The Warden set the pad down, studying her closely. His elbows were perched on the armrest and his hands steepled in front of his face as she sat down.

She picked at the fabric of her uniform as he surveyed her, wanting to make a run for it. She waited for him to speak, bracing herself for the bad news. That was how Khalani mentally prepared for things, expecting the worst outcome.

“How has Braderhelm treated you so far?” the Warden asked after a beat of silence.

Her brows furrowed at the question. His calm pleasantry made her pulse quicken, like she was being lured into a carefully set trap.

“Um, very nice, sir.” Khalani swallowed.

He chuckled behind his hands and said, “I recommend not lying.”

Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t relish how his sharp eyes glinted at her like he was subtly boxing her in a cage, searching for answers to unasked questions. Mountains of secrets lay hidden beneath his eyes. And she was privy to none of them.

“It could use more color.” Her heart raced like she was treading over a field of thick, razor-sharp needles.

The Warden tilted his head, one hand resting over his face, partially concealing his expression. “You think Apollo is a colorful place?”

“It’s all I’ve ever known.” She wrung her fingers together.

“Your family was never rich enough to be granted a day pass to Genesis.”

Khalani shook her head, teeth clenching at the mention of her family.

Where was he going with this?

“Interesting.” The Warden leaned back, his attention fixated on her. “Governor Huxley contacted me not long ago. He is hosting a dinner tomorrow night at his mansion in Genesis, with the council members and their families present. The Governor prefers to use prisoners as servants. I think it’s because he enjoys pissing the other council members off.”

Her expression remained neutral, uncaring of the Governor’s plans to drink tea and savor luxuries with his minions on Genesis while everyone else suffered.

The Warden studied her reaction, waiting for her to respond.

“That’s…great.” Her lips pursed together in a fake smile.

“I’m glad you think so.” He tilted his head. “Because the Governor requested that you be one of the servants at this dinner.”

Only the sound of the fire crackling filled the space. She didn’t move. It was like his words entered and exited her mind but never registered.

Khalani shook her head. “I’m sorry, that must be a mistake. Perhaps you have the wrong prisoner.”

The Warden slowly grinned behind his hands. “I would probably think the same if I were in your shoes. But I can assure you that this is very real, and you will be on Genesis tomorrow. A few others will attend, but you are the only prisoner the Governor has ever personally selected. Now, why might that be?”

He sat up straighter in his chair, narrowing his eyes. Khalani’s mouth slackened, and she was suddenly lightheaded as Alexander Huxley’s face entered her vision.

She pressed a nail into her arm, hard enough to draw blood. The physical pain slowly cut through her senses, but she kept pushing into her skin. Her eyes drew to the fire, but no answers or hints of clarity were hidden within the red flames.

“I don’t know.”

No way the Governor even remembered her name after their brief encounter.

It couldn’t be true. It had to be a lie.

The silence felt like it stretched an eternity. Once he seemed satisfied with the truth behind her words, the Warden sighed deeply and stood, walking over to the dark mahogany cabinet.

Khalani relaxed her hand and noticed the dark red indent on her forearm glaring back at her. She sat in silence, bracing herself for the moment the rug would be torn from under her. She refused to let herself believe that she might live to see the gates of Genesis.

She jumped at the sound of the Warden’s black boots stomping toward her. He carried two glasses filled with a dark liquid. Extending one glass to her, he nodded for her to take it before sitting back down. Khalani eyed the drink warily, sniffing the contents.

The Warden snorted. “I promise you I didn’t poison it. Have a sip with me.” He held out his glass to her in a toast. He didn’t take his eyes off hers as he downed his drink.

Khalani closed her eyes and took a small sip. The bitter liquid tasted like rubbing alcohol dipped in bleach. She coughed and sputtered, her face contorting at the unwelcome burn.

The Warden just sat there and laughed. Prick.

“You know, that’s some of the finest cognac in Apollo. It was considered a very high-class drink before the Great Collapse.”

“Some things should have died with the Collapse.”

He smirked and set down his drink. “Perhaps. But I didn’t invite you here to solely talk about dinner plans tomorrow, 317.” The Warden’s silky voice sent chills down her spine, and the walls appeared to close around her.

“Use your words wisely if the Governor asks about your stay in Braderhelm,” he said. “Several years ago, a previous Warden was promoted to a councilman, and my political ambitions are headed in the same direction. A kind word or two with him will make your stay here more comfortable. If not, I can make life here a lot more painful.” His voice hardened at the end, and the malice in his sharp gaze intensified.

With each word, her breath hitched and her shoulders bent forward as if she might cave in on herself.

The favor he asked was no favor at all.

The Warden spoke with assured confidence and veracity, which only meant one thing. He was telling the truth.

Khalani nodded, unable to speak. Her skin itched and tingled, as if she were melting into the cushions of the red chair .

“Wise decision, 317. I know you will not disappoint me. You leave for Genesis tomorrow.” He gestured toward the door in dismissal.

For a moment, she remained still. Her muscles trembled, and a substantial weight settled in her chest.

She had dreamed of Genesis since she was a little girl. Yearned to see the sun but never truly believed it would actually happen.

Realization dawned on her as his words slowly began to register.

Tomorrow, she would take her first steps on the earth’s surface.

Khalani seized control of her shaky limbs, abruptly grabbed the glass, and downed the alcohol in one gulp.

Not even the sharp burn woke her up.