Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132491 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Marcus exhales through his nose. “Tell us where you got the knife, and if I think you’re being honest, I’ll answer one of your questions.”
I laugh, genuinely amused. “Um, no? You only have one question for me and I have about a thousand for you.”
He shakes his head. “What makes you think I only have one question for you?”
“Why do you guys have so much food when Rising Tide is starving?”
His gaze sharpens on me as he holds the knife up. “An answer for an answer.”
My heart races as I keep my eyes locked on his. “You first.”
He looks up at the ceiling, the muscle tic in his jaw giving away his anger. “I’ve got better things to do than play games with you. Do you want to stay in our camp?”
The past few days have been the only time I felt reasonably safe on this island. I have lots of questions, but my instincts are telling me this is the best place to be right now.
I nod.
“If you want to stay here, there are rules,” Marcus says. “And you’ll have a guard for as long as I think you need one.”
I’m trying to keep my temper locked down, but I slip.
“Rule number one—you’re in control.” Bitterness seeps from my voice. “And I have to do everything you say. Does that about cover it?”
It’s been years since I got to go where I wanted. Do what I wanted. Fuck who I wanted. Be who I wanted. And I’ve had it with men asserting their control over me.
Marcus clears his throat. “You have to earn your place here. When Ellison clears you, you’ll get a job. You have to respect everyone in this camp, and I have the same expectation from all of them. No one gets special treatment here. And don’t lie to me. Those are the rules.” He waits a couple of seconds. “Do you still want to stay?”
I look down at the flowing grain of wood on the table, which shifts from amber to dark brown and then back again. Though I don’t have a choice, I’m pretending like I do.
“What are the work assignments?”
He turns to Nova, who responds by counting them off on her fingers.
“Sewing, security, construction, the farm, the garden, fishing, laundry, childcare, cooking...those are the main ones. You get to choose, and you can rotate quarterly if you want to.”
“Can I have my knife back? Please?”
Marcus’s brows shoot into his hairline. He bites out an unamused laugh. “Again, it’s not yours. And no.”
I sigh heavily. “I have so many questions.”
“Yeah, same.” He glares at me.
“Why do they inject people with that stuff? Aromium?”
Marcus stares at me like a stubborn ass. Finally, Nova answers. “It enhances the senses and physical abilities. You get faster, stronger, need less sleep and food. Over time, you develop sharper hearing and vision. And it heightens emotions.”
I breathe out, leaning my head on my hand. “So that’s what was happening to me.”
Marcus cuts his glower in her direction.
“We tell everyone that when they get here,” she says, turning her focus back on me. “It happens to everyone. But it’s different depending on your DNA. Everyone gets more volatile, violent and sexually aggressive, because that’s what it’s designed to do, but some people tolerate it better than others.”
A knot of anger tightens in my chest. Whitman is playing games with people’s lives. That’s nothing new, but changing who we are? It’s a brutal abuse of power.
“She just gave you an honest answer,” Marcus says. “So tell us where you got the knife.”
I hesitate. They did save my life. And they have taken care of me. I’ll give him a partial answer.
“I found it.”
Something shifts in his eyes. “When?”
“Recently.”
He leans forward in his seat. “Where?”
I shake my head. “Not yet. You can try another question, though.”
Sighing heavily, he runs a hand through his hair. It lands in the same perfect disarray. “Did anyone at Rising Tide say anything about their supply levels?”
That one, I’ll answer. “There are no supplies. I saw the supply room. The shelves were empty. There were a bunch of barrels and I didn’t see if anything was inside them. But there’s no food. Almost no medicine. And people are getting upset about it.”
A glint of satisfaction passes over Marcus’s expression, so quick I almost miss it. Why is he pleased about the Tiders suffering? Not all of them are like Virginia.
There’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Marcus says.
Ellison opens the door and comes inside. She puts a hand on my shoulder.
“I don’t want her to overdo it. Can you pick it back up another time?”
It’s a small gesture, her touching my shoulder. But it makes tears well in my eyes. It’s been so long since anyone cared about me. Olin does. He risked a lot to help me. But this small gesture from Ellison—openly supporting me in front of her own people—isn’t small to me.