Page 24 of Reclaimed

"Here," the rookie says, reaching for a towel. "Dry off and–"

"No," Miller cuts in, his arm barring in front of the other to stop him. "She can get it herself."

I tip my chin back, meeting the challenge in Miller's dark eyes. He wants me to say something– anything– that would give him half an excuse to hurt me again.

My palms splay against the slick tile as I hold his stare, my jaw clenched tight, keeping all my creative thoughts inside my head. Sadistic fucking rent-a-cop. I hope you trip and swallow all your teeth. I get halfway up before my bound hands slip from beneath me, pain flaring up my side as I drop back to the floor.

Ignoring their laughter, I grit my teeth and try again. It's slow and awkward, but somehow I manage to make it to my feet. My chest heaves, eyes locking onto the towel rack straight ahead as I take a careful step. Annoyance lingers just beneath my skin with every squelching step forward.

Grit, breathe, repeat.

"Stop," Miller commands, drawing his combat knife as he closes the distance between us.

My body stills, but my mind careens off in a spiral. I haven't said a word to earn another punishment. Hell, I didn't even look in their direction.

With no warning and a sweep of his hand, the tip of his blade skims my arm as he cuts through the zip-ties. My eyes widen, snapping down to my wrists as I turn them over, expecting to find a cut or blood, but the skin is just red and raw from the restraints.

"I wonder what will come first," he starts, my eyes flicking up to meet his. "Beating the fight out of you, or the life out of you?"

Fear licks up my spine, my lips pressing into a thin line– not from defiance, but to keep them from trembling. This place could kill me yet.

"Dry off and get dressed, Asset," Miller says, ripping the towel from the rack and throwing it at me.

I quickly do as I'm told, the rookie already pulling open the door as I slide my feet into the slippers. They lead me through brightly lit halls and a series of secured doors, stopping in front of a solid steel one labeled C7.

"Rest up," Miller says before shoving me into the room. "The Appraisers will be by first thing in the morning."

The door slams shut, plunging me into darkness save for a pale strip of moonlight cutting through the narrow windows lining the top of the wall. I stand there unmoving, the tension easing from my shoulders with each fading footstep. Once they disappear entirely, my arms drop to my sides, and I pad toward one of the metal cots.

Curling into the center of the flimsy mattress, I hug the pillow to my chest as my eyes lazily sweep over the room. It's just the same as I remember. Cinder block walls painted white, what has to be the world's scratchiest bedding, and folding chairs at the end of each narrow bed. At least I’ve got seating options while I wait for whatever fresh hell comes with tomorrow's appraisal.

Fuck, I hope the wound I gave Riggs gets infected and his stupid dick falls off.

I blow out a shaky breath as the adrenaline ebbs away, leaving behind a dull throb of pain. I've done nothing but fight since the Enforcers knocked on the door. For my life, for my freedom. Against that fucking Repo Man. But as exhaustion settles deep into my marrow and sleep threatens to pull me under, I don't have any fight left. I just let it take me.

Metal crashes against concrete, the harsh clang ripping me from sleep. I jolt upright as a pale blonde is shoved into the room.

"No!" she yells, trying to slip past Miller, but he's quicker. He raises his rifle and slams the butt into her face with a sickening crunch. She lets out a pained scream, blood spilling from her nose as she collapses to the floor.

Because I clearly have a death wish, the instinct to intervene overrides whatever sense of self-preservation I have left. I snap, putting my neck on the line for a complete stranger. Can't accuse me of not being a girls' girl.

"Stop!" I shout, shooting to my feet. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"Stupid bitch," Miller swings the rifle toward my face. "Learn your place."

I freeze, unwilling to see how deep this limp-dick douche's god complex runs.

"Let tonight be your only warning," he says, the barrel of the gun drifting toward the blonde crumpled on the floor before returning to me. "As long as you're in my fucking ward, you worthless whores will fall in line, or I'll blow your heads off."

He lowers the gun, adjusting the strap across his shoulder as he pivots toward the hall. "And even then, I'd still fuck your corpses before dropping them in the incinerator."

The door slams shut behind him, the lock engaging with a mechanical whirr. With a sigh, I drag a hand through my hair and sink to my knees beside the blonde. Gently, I cup her jaw. Bruises rim her bloodshot eyes and fresh rivulets of blood trail from her definitely broken nose and down her chin.

Jesus... talk about unnecessary force.

Tilting her head, I inspect the damage. She winces, sucking in a breath through her teeth.

"Sorry." I cringe, letting go and rocking back to sit on my heels. "Just wanted to make sure there wasn't a piece of bone jutting through."