Page 23 of Reclaimed

Before the question can even fully form, it all comes crashing back.

The Enforcers.

Running.

The Fringe.

Repo Man.

The flicker of cruel delight in his blue eyes as he stuck a syringe into my neck.

A tremor of rage ripples through me, a knot of dread tightening in my gut as his words replay in my mind…

"Maybe, I'll buy you at auction, if they don't slaughter you first."

No, no, no…

Bile rises in my throat as I frantically take in my surroundings.

White walls around me.

Black zip-ties binding me.

Navy camo watching me.

I blink back hot tears as a wave of panic takes hold, the reality of where I am crushing against my chest.

The Vanguard.

"Clean yourself up," one of the Enforcers commands, tossing a bottle of all-in-one hair and body wash towards me. "No one likes a filthy whore."

"Then don't make us into them," I scoff, rocking onto an elbow as I reach for the bottle.

The words fall from my lips a second before my brain can catch up, and water squelches beneath his boots as he crosses the shower bay in three strides. A guttural scream tears from my throat as his foot drives into my side, and I collapse against the tile, pain exploding beneath my ribs as I instinctively curl around it.

"Uh, Miller…" The other Enforcer shifts uneasily. "Won't they dock your pay if she ends up in the infirmary?"

"IF," he tuts. "It's all about the if, Rookie."

"But what if she says something?"

"That's not how it works," Miller scoffs. "And even if it did, who would they believe? An Enforcer, one of their very own, or some worthless bitch?" he asks, lifting his foot again.

I flinch, body tensing as I brace for another blow. Instead, his boot crushes down atop the bottle beside me, body wash splattering across my bare skin and the sharp antiseptic scent burning my nostrils.

"Better hurry up, Asset," he says, a smile playing at his lips as he turns away. "Water's only on as long as I want it to be."

Scrambling upright, I scrub myself clean as fast as I can, the zip-ties digging into my wrists with every movement. The enforcers mock me, exchanging crude comments about my naked body as red-hot shame prickles beneath my skin. It's not like I haven't heard it before or felt the lingering stares, but it still feels as humiliating as it did the first time I was here.

God, I feel so pathetic.

Hidden beneath the shower spray, I blink softly, letting a few tears break free.

The first time, I was terrified because I didn't know what would happen. This time, I'm terrified because I do.

The water abruptly cuts off and I swallow hard, forcing back the tears that threaten to keep falling.

Don't let them see you cry, Jersey. They don't deserve the satisfaction.