Page 26 of Reclaimed

"If you would just hold still," she grumbles.

My molars grind together as I bite back every creative insult I can think of. After Kenzie's breakdown of the tiers last night, I know there are worse fates than becoming someone else's lapdog. Keeping my mouth shut and complying might be the best chance I have of avoiding them.

Her rubber gloves pinch my skin as she twists my arm in her grip. The tip pierces my skin with a sharp sting, my jaw clenching as she pushes it deeper. Then she attaches the collection tube, dark red blood flowing steadily into it.

One tube becomes two, the nurse scowling the entire time. I wonder what her story is. Is she here because she wants to be? Married to a Commander? Or is she a work duty tier?

By the fourth tube, a dull ache has formed around the puncture and my fingers have gone cold. Good god, how much do they need? The final tube clicks free, and with the same tender care she used to insert the needle, she yanks it out.

"Apply pressure," she instructs, pressing a wad of gauze to the inside of my elbow.

The nurse scribbles something across each vial before gathering them in a tray and pushing to her feet. "Stay here," she adds, swiping her badge to open the door.

Where the fuck would I go, Elizabeth? You just took half my blood and there isn't a door in this place I can open without a key card.

A hollow sensation spreads through me as I ease back against the vinyl chair and close my eyes. Instead of sleeping last night, my brain decided it would be a great idea to agonize over everything I could've done while making my escape. Every moment I should've been smarter, every word I shouldn't have said, every choice I should have made. It’s basically a highlight reel of every way I've screwed up over the past few days.

"A311," someone shouts, startling me awake.

The same Enforcer that brought me here looms above me as my eyes crack open. I didn't even realize I'd fallen asleep.

"Time to move," he barks, kicking my chair.

I push to stand, swaying sideways as the room tilts. My hands scrabble for something to steady myself, but the Enforcer seizes my arm before I can face-plant on the floor, wrenching me upright.

"Walk," he spits, jerking me alongside him as he starts down the hall, my bare feet slapping against the tile as I struggle to match his pace.

Asshole.

I open my mouth to tell him to slow down, but clamp it shut again just as fast, remembering Kenzie’s warning. It’d be pretty stupid to talk myself into black tier for the sake of this dickhead.

My fingers curl into fists as I fight the urge to punch him in the kidneys. I have to play their game, move the pieces around the board, pass Go and collect two hundred dollars… or however chess works.

The electronic pad beeps as he swipes his badge over it, the light flashing green before he pulls open the door and motions me inside. I hesitate at the threshold of the exam room, blood draining from my face as I take in the three formidable men in white medical coats gathered around a computer.

Of course it's a group project.

Swallowing my unease, I square my shoulders and bury my fear behind a blank expression as I take a step forward. Apparently, it isn't fast enough for the Enforcer– his palm drives into my back, propelling me into the room.

The white coats’ heads snap up, each wearing their own unsettling version of a smile.

"A311," one of them says, pushing up his dark-rimmed glasses. "I'm Senior Appraiser Kelton, and these are my apprentices, Platt and Crawford."

Am I supposed to respond? What would I even say?

Hi, I'm Jersey, but since names are humanizing, you pricks can call me Registry Asset 311, or A311 for short.

…it's probably best I just don't say anything.

“Crawford, why don't you take the lead?” Kelton instructs. “Platt, record your observations for discussion at the debrief.”

Grabbing a set of gloves from the dispenser on the workstation, Crawford snaps them on as he approaches. "Undress, all the way."

I blow out a breath and tug my grey shirt off over my head. My breasts spill free, nipples stiffening as the cool air skates across my exposed skin. Hooking my thumbs around the waistband of my sweats, I shove them down and carefully step out. All the while, I can feel three sets of eyes raking over me.

Somewhere along the way, the embarrassment of being stripped bare faded into detachment. My body isn't mine anyway. It hasn't been for a long time.

Crawford clears his throat, his arm stretching toward me with an upturned palm. "Panties."