Page 22 of Reclaimed

I can't.

The world lurches around me, every last nerve ending screaming in pain as I lie there on the concrete, reluctantly accepting my fate.

"Good girl," he rasps, pressure dissolving from my back as he lifts his foot. "Now roll over."

"Fuck you," I hiss.

How dare he treat me like a dog?

As if I could be so lucky. Pets get affection, while Assets get used.

Heat sears across my skin from embarrassment, but it's more than that. Something else weaves among it– something deeply warped. Something I don't have the slightest capacity to start to deal with.

"Borrowed courage," he murmurs.

The toe of his boot jams into my side, sliding beneath my gut and rolling me onto my back.

“Fuck you,” I repeat, glaring daggers up at him.

The corner of his mouth twitches. "Only good girls get fucked."

My hands brace beside me and sheer spite pushes me up onto my elbows. "I'm not your bitch."

"You're right." He crouches down, elbows resting on his knees. "You're The Registry's."

He may as well have kicked me in the teeth.

I swallow past the lump in my throat, trying to dislodge the solemn feeling that threatens to stroke his ego.

My eyes narrow as I meet his gaze, and a glob of red-tinged saliva lands on his face as I spit.

It's unnerving how calm he seems. A feral grin splits his face, tongue darting out to lick up the glob.

Then his tattooed fingers curl beneath my chin. "Open."

His brow twitches as I purse my lips defiantly.

With one cruel and calculated movement, he collars my neck, yanking me up to my feet and smashing me against the wall. The impact forces my mouth open, and I flinch as the glob of spit and blood lands on my tongue.

Tears blur my vision as I stare up dumbfounded at those blue eyes and messy blond hair, hearing the unmistakable sound of Velcro ripping apart.

"Maybe, I'll buy you at auction," he says as he pulls a syringe from his vest, the sharp tip piercing into the column of my neck. "If they don't slaughter you first."

He depresses the plunger, sending white-hot heat prickling across my skin. My mouth hinges open with a silent scream, then every ounce of strength drains from me as the world fades to black.

8

JERSEY

A311

The chill seeps through flesh and muscle, dulling every ache until quiet relief settles bone-deep. It becomes soothing, almost merciful as I lie at the edge of consciousness.

Awareness slams into me with the first blast of icy water.

My eyes shoot open with a sharp inhale, harsh fluorescent lights blinding me as the freezing droplets sting my bare skin. I try to scramble from beneath it, but my wrists catch against each other, bound tight.

What the hell did Commander Martin…?