Page 9 of Born to be Broken

Brushing past a frowning Brigadier Dane, Corday found himself caught.

His arm in her grip, Dane’s face was red and her hiss nasty. “You will do no such thing. Return to your home. Cool off before you jeopardize the entire resistance with your impulsive stupidity. Think, for once. Whatever this Claire has planned, distracting her or getting yourself killed won’t help anyone.”

Corday was strongly tempted to violence. “You don’t know Claire.”

“I don’t, but I know you. And I know when you’re wrong.”

The weather was absolute shit. A blessing and a curse, as it seemed Thólos was hiding from the unfamiliar storm. No soul walked the streets to pester her, and though falling snow made the path difficult, the trek left her soaked to the bone and shivering violently.

In all the years since Claire had last walked the midlevel promenade, she’d forgotten much. The tight dwellings were still celery green, but it took her some time to remember which window had once housed a flower box full of red poppies.

There were no splashes of color now… no flowers. Soon even the withering trees would be nothing but sticks. All there was, was that too cheerful green peeking out from clinging frost, broken windows, and refuse.

Three flights up, third domicile on the right.

Standing face to face with a once familiar door, Claire jiggled the handle and found it locked. Running her fingernail around the frame, she felt a bump in the crack—a spare key hidden just as it had been when she was a girl.

The inside was dark. No one was home.

In place of the woman she sought lay junk: wires, filters, air scrubbers, pipes, and whirring machines piled all over the room. The selfish magpie had stolen them right out of the Dome’s infrastructure, and by doing so had weakened everyone else.

It was unspeakable, infuriating and, worst of all, after reading her file, Claire was not remotely surprised.

Mouth sour, Claire stripped off her wet clothes, hung them to drip in the galley kitchen, and helped herself to something dry. It was night before she finally heard the scratch of a key in the lock.

A tall beauty slipped into the chilly room, rubbing her mittened hands together. It only took the woman a second to spot Claire lounging on her couch. “You should not be here.”

“You always were such a cunt. You know that, right?” Claire snarled back.

“That is a big word coming from you, little girl.” Cocking her head to the side, blonde hair moving like a waterfall behind her, the Alpha changed her snarl to a provocative purr. “Do you have any idea how much you’re worth?”

“Don’t get too excited. He won’t pay you… Shepherd hanged the last batch who brought me in, Maryanne.” Claire looked at what had once been the smartest girl she knew and saw a stranger. “Fact is, he takes offense that anyone would expect payment for returning what’s his.”

Shoulders tight, Maryanne eased closer, eyeballing every corner of the room. “Did anyone see you come in?”

“No.”

“That means at least three people did.”

Claire let out a breath. “My face was covered and I’m sure you can smell for yourself that I am nothing special right now.”

Full lips smirking, Maryanne lifted a handful of Claire’s hair for a sniff. “True…”

Claire took Maryanne’s hand, the hand of who had been her closest childhood friend, and held it. Large eyes pleading, she whispered, “I need your help.”

“No.”

“Why?”

Maryanne pulled her fingers free and sauntered off. “You have no idea what these guys can do to you, Claire. Whatever you did, just find a place to hide and wait it out… but don’t drag me into it.”

“Actually, I do know what they’re capable of,” Claire spat at Maryanne’s back. “I’m pregnant with Shepherd’s child.”

“Fuck me!” Maryanne spun in horror, staring down at the diminutive Omega’s belly.

“I wouldn’t, remember,” Claire teased, trying to mimic the mischief of their youths. “You were all over me during school. That’s why we aren’t friends anymore.”

“Shut up, bitch.” Maryanne laughed, unable to suppress a wolfish grin, “You wish. It was Patrick Keck whom I wanted to fuck… and I did. Often.”