Page 35 of Reclaimed

All the brazen bullshit with The Registry’s officials and enforcers doesn’t shock or scare me anymore. It’s still painful and degrading, but I’m far past desensitized to the physical trauma. The jarring part about being here at the Vanguard is the fucking gaslighting tactics they use.

Codes and abbreviations. No clocks. The natural light that comes in through the windows doesn’t do much to help identify the time when we’re being pulled for appointments night and day. I’ve been here for what feels like a week, but honestly, it could just be a freaking day. It’s the not knowing that’s the worst– the uncertainty slithering around my spine and tightening as paranoia seeps into my marrow.

I’m losing my fucking mind.

I hope I get auctioned soon.

The thought settles in my consciousness like a mic drop. I hate that the idea of being sold off to someone is more appealing than being in the care of the people who literally run this city. I fucking hate this place. And that tiny taste of freedom was enough to make me greedy.

The wheels of the doctor’s stool squeal as he scoots back, yanking me back to the present.

“Done,” he announces, giving me a curt nod– like violating my consent is a routine item on his checklist. “Have it noted that it takes about a week to be fully effective,” he adds, discarding his gloves as he stands. “Without knowing exactly what supplement was being used prior, there will likely be a lapse in coverage. But if she goes to a breeder, removal will restore fertility almost instantly.”

Bile crawls up my throat. I promptly shove away the thought of being some sicko’s fleshy incubator, instead focusing on the subtext in the doctor’s statement– that I’ll soon be going to the auction block. It’s a chance to feel sane again, even if the price of sanity is a new Guardian to serve.

“All yours,” he tells Miller before leaving through the same door he entered from.

Miller steps in closer, mouth set in a scowl. “I don’t know who you’ve sucked off to get cleared for auction,” he snarls, stomping his foot on the floor. The back of the chair slowly rises to bring me upright, my arm still restrained above my head. Miller reaches out, his stubby fingers clamping onto my breast and squeezing roughly. “But I’ll have my turn,” he says, the words dripping with both malice and promise.

My stomach churns with revulsion. It’s clear this man has never touched a woman that was willing. Thank god I won’t have to suffer him much longer.

He reaches up to unfasten the restraint on my wrist, static rushing through my veins as my arm falls limply to my lap.

“Sure,” I huff, the comfort in being assigned to auction giving way to a false sense of bravado.

His hand lashes out again, gripping my face. “Watch who you’re talking to, Asset.”

Before I can think better of it, my teeth sink into the flesh between his thumb and forefinger. His eyes go dark, regret smothering my satisfaction in an instant.

“Stupid bitch,” he spits, his hand rearing back before his palm cracks against my cheek.

My head snaps to the side, pain blooming across my face.

“Let’s go,” he sneers, his hand clamping over the fresh incision on my bicep as he yanks me up.

Before I can even find my footing, he shoves me to the floor, pain erupting in my skull and the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth. I recoil with a whimper as his boot stomps down beside my face before he turns and crosses the room.

“Now!” he barks, swiping his key card to open the door.

Eager to curl up in bed and escape into the recesses of unconsciousness, I quickly pull my sweatshirt back on, pushing to my feet with a wince and following him into whatever level of hell I’ve unlocked now.

13

TALON

The keypad chirps, the lock retracting and the hinges creaking as the door swings open. Fluorescent light slices across the floor, stopping just short of the corner I’m concealed in. I sink back further into the shadows as Jersey stumbles into her cell, the door slamming shut behind her.

“Fucking jerk,” she murmurs, raising her middle finger to the door as the lock re-engages with a metallic click.

The corner of my mouth twitches. There’s the attitude I’ve been craving.

With a sigh, she runs a hand through her chestnut waves and turns to pad towards the bathroom, not even glancing in my direction.

She has the spatial awareness of a corpse and shitty fighting form, yet somehow she still managed to stab an Enforcer and make a run for it. Not that those glorified hall monitors qualify as worthy opponents, but the bastard was still twice her size. Apparently, she makes up the difference in pure fucking spite.

A hazy glow spills into the room as water rushes from the faucet in the adjacent bathroom.

Take your time, little stray, I’m in no rush.