doesn’t move soon he’ll lose respect amongst the other officers but I’m an unknown quality.
It would be funny if he wasn’t about to bind me hand and foot.
He glares at a short, stocky gray-haired woman. “You want to hold her for me?”
The woman shakes her head. “Orders are orders.”
He takes another step closer. The scent of his fear is sweat and urine and soap that reminds me of the purple weeds that grow in the crags of the rocks in the mountains. Way too sweet for a male.
I want to struggle. Every inch of me is begging my brain to let it go free. The prospect of the release of taking out my fury on however many I can get my hands on is so close I ache for it, but I can’t. I’m not afraid of their guns. But getting shot could be death, and death is failure.
Killing one or two officers here in the middle of nowhere is nothing to the Company. Preventing us Lifers from killing each other would hurt them so much more.
The need to fight clawing inside me makes my hands shake and knees tremble. Staying still as the officer reaches to clip the metal tie around my ankles is a battle. Watching and doing nothing as the join in the metal tie becomes shining fluid before resetting as one perfect whole, is as hard a thing as I’ve ever done.
And the whole time the other way plays through my brain. The crunch as I kick him square in the nose, the give as his face makes way for my foot unable to occupy the same air, the squeal as I stand over him and line him up again.
I sweat with it. This need for violence. And I hate it.
So I stand unmoving. Because giving in to the rage inside me is not the answer. It takes me back to my argument with Mother about the training rooms. The big battles are won with words, not losses of temper. Not lashing out.
I hold out my hands and look away as he binds them. I can feel Rael’s eyes on me. Is she wondering at my submission? Have I lost any respect she might have had for me?
I can’t let myself think about it. Instead I focus on the vans, how they’re locked and unlocked as officers move around them, and the exact locations of windows and doors as well as the landmarks. I’m hoping I’ll be able to follow the directions and turns from the inside. The more information I have, the better I’ll be if there’s an opportunity to get away with Rael and continue my mission.
The officers drive us toward the back of the middle van using the ends of their guns. Each prod between my shoulder blades is a reminder of the consequences of trying to escape. The binding around my ankles means I walk with short steps, watching the ground for dips or loose rocks.
“Ouch,” Rael mutters at my side.
I know turning my head to see her wacked with another blow by the short woman is a mistake. But the rock that twists beneath my foot as I do so sends me crashing to my knees. Sharp gravel edges bite through my jeans, and blood seeps into the material.
“Get up,” is the snarl from behind. Redhead is all very brave now that I’m bound.
I make a few half-hearted attempts to rise before settling back down. “Can’t. Maybe if you took this off.” I wave at my feet.
“Not happening.”
“Help her.” The order comes from Davyd.
Redhead hesitates and then holds out one slender hand.
I make him work for it. His cheeks redden as he tries to drag me to my feet, eventually hooking me under the armpit. My small victory doesn’t last long. When I’m on my feet his slim little hand lingers and then as he moves away brushes against the side of my breast.
My insides contract. I check his face. He’s leering.
“You little—” Wasting no more breath on words, I swing my linked hands. They work as a club, finding the creep’s nose. There’s a satisfying crack and tears spring from his eyes. He cries out, reeling back and clutching at his messed up face.
Then there’s the barrel of a gun, and it’s only an inch from my temple. Blood is dripping from his nose, there’s hate in his
It would be funny if he wasn’t about to bind me hand and foot.
He glares at a short, stocky gray-haired woman. “You want to hold her for me?”
The woman shakes her head. “Orders are orders.”
He takes another step closer. The scent of his fear is sweat and urine and soap that reminds me of the purple weeds that grow in the crags of the rocks in the mountains. Way too sweet for a male.
I want to struggle. Every inch of me is begging my brain to let it go free. The prospect of the release of taking out my fury on however many I can get my hands on is so close I ache for it, but I can’t. I’m not afraid of their guns. But getting shot could be death, and death is failure.
Killing one or two officers here in the middle of nowhere is nothing to the Company. Preventing us Lifers from killing each other would hurt them so much more.
The need to fight clawing inside me makes my hands shake and knees tremble. Staying still as the officer reaches to clip the metal tie around my ankles is a battle. Watching and doing nothing as the join in the metal tie becomes shining fluid before resetting as one perfect whole, is as hard a thing as I’ve ever done.
And the whole time the other way plays through my brain. The crunch as I kick him square in the nose, the give as his face makes way for my foot unable to occupy the same air, the squeal as I stand over him and line him up again.
I sweat with it. This need for violence. And I hate it.
So I stand unmoving. Because giving in to the rage inside me is not the answer. It takes me back to my argument with Mother about the training rooms. The big battles are won with words, not losses of temper. Not lashing out.
I hold out my hands and look away as he binds them. I can feel Rael’s eyes on me. Is she wondering at my submission? Have I lost any respect she might have had for me?
I can’t let myself think about it. Instead I focus on the vans, how they’re locked and unlocked as officers move around them, and the exact locations of windows and doors as well as the landmarks. I’m hoping I’ll be able to follow the directions and turns from the inside. The more information I have, the better I’ll be if there’s an opportunity to get away with Rael and continue my mission.
The officers drive us toward the back of the middle van using the ends of their guns. Each prod between my shoulder blades is a reminder of the consequences of trying to escape. The binding around my ankles means I walk with short steps, watching the ground for dips or loose rocks.
“Ouch,” Rael mutters at my side.
I know turning my head to see her wacked with another blow by the short woman is a mistake. But the rock that twists beneath my foot as I do so sends me crashing to my knees. Sharp gravel edges bite through my jeans, and blood seeps into the material.
“Get up,” is the snarl from behind. Redhead is all very brave now that I’m bound.
I make a few half-hearted attempts to rise before settling back down. “Can’t. Maybe if you took this off.” I wave at my feet.
“Not happening.”
“Help her.” The order comes from Davyd.
Redhead hesitates and then holds out one slender hand.
I make him work for it. His cheeks redden as he tries to drag me to my feet, eventually hooking me under the armpit. My small victory doesn’t last long. When I’m on my feet his slim little hand lingers and then as he moves away brushes against the side of my breast.
My insides contract. I check his face. He’s leering.
“You little—” Wasting no more breath on words, I swing my linked hands. They work as a club, finding the creep’s nose. There’s a satisfying crack and tears spring from his eyes. He cries out, reeling back and clutching at his messed up face.
Then there’s the barrel of a gun, and it’s only an inch from my temple. Blood is dripping from his nose, there’s hate in his
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