by Dylan Steel
Kai paused for a moment. He set his glass down, tapping his finger against its rim. Leaning back in his seat, he watched her closely.
“I chose her,” he said quietly. “And while that’s obviously not what you want to hear, you can judge my choices after you’ve answered my question and told me who you would choose to sacrifice.”
Chills pricked along her arms, spilling down her spine as a hollow ache opened deep inside her. She thought her heart might burst from pain. She was staring into the eyes of her best friend’s executioner, and he was showing no remorse for what he’d done. Worse—he was defending his actions.
“I can’t believe I ever looked up to you.” Her face contorted in disgust as tears filled her eyes.
His brows lifted. “And yet, you still haven’t answered my question.”
“Yes, I have. You just don’t like that I changed your dumb rules,” she said, snarling. “But you shouldn’t get to decide who lives and who dies.”
“Is that what you really think?” Kai’s voice was calm, but it held an undercurrent of warning.
Sage knew it was dangerous to keep talking, but anger leaked out of her, overriding her better judgment. “No, I don’t think it’s your place to make some arbitrary judgment about whether one person’s life is worth more than another and then act as their executioner.”
“What you’re describing is precisely how the System of Worth works,” Kai said coolly, picking apart her words as he tilted his head. “Are you trying to say that Eprah’s made a mistake? That the System of Worth is flawed?”
She paled. “I’m saying that you made a mistake.” Under the table, her fingers dug into her palms. She’d put herself in a precarious position with a powerful man. Her only safe option was to act offended. “Don’t twist my words, Kai.”
“I’m not. We’re both part of Eprah.” He nodded toward his bracelet. “We all follow the System of Worth.”
“Some of us more than others,” she retorted.
He raised an eyebrow. “And you’ve never stripped a Chance from someone else?”
Sage clenched her jaw and looked away. Crimson shame stained her cheeks. Everything inside her wished she could undo what she’d done to Everett when she’d stripped one of his Chances. But she didn’t regret stripping any Chances from Dutch and his men—and she wasn’t sure whether or not she should.
“Mmm, you have,” Kai mused, lifting his glass, “and you’ve barely been outside the Institution for two months. Come find me again in a few years after you’ve lost your illusions of self-righteousness.”
Leaning forward, Sage met his cold gaze with an icy one of her own. “I’m nothing like you. And I’ll never be anything like you.”
“You’re more like me than you realize, Sage.”
Visceral hatred rose from somewhere deep inside her, singeing a path through her body as it spread across her limbs, burning hot in her lungs and eyes and throat—she was practically choking on it. “I—”
“There you are, firecracker,” Boulder’s voice came from behind Sage. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” He stopped a few steps away from the table, flicking his eyes back and forth uncertainly between Sage and Kai. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Boulder look remotely nervous before. Under different circumstances, his discomfort might have been almost comical. “Sorry if I’m interrupting something.”
“You’re not interrupting anything,” Kai said, taking another sip of his drink as he kept his gaze on her. “Sage was just leaving.”
Her eye twitched. She scooted out from the booth, glaring at Kai the whole time. Boulder offered her his arm, but she held up a finger and turned back to Kai.
Leaning over the table, Sage put her face right in front of his and looked him squarely in the eye as she whispered, “I don’t care what sort of good you think you were doing. I will never forget what you did, and I will never forgive you for killing her.”
“And I do not need your forgiveness, nor am I asking you for it,” he said evenly, matching her tone.
Straightening, Sage turned and grabbed Boulder’s arm, letting him lead her back across the club.
“That conversation looked a little intense,” Boulder said as he slipped into the booth across from Sage. He shoved a drink toward her.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, wrapping her hand around the glass. She downed a large swallow and was immediately grateful that he’d gotten something for her that was weaker than last time. “He was just being a trazk. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Boulder’s eyebrow lifted, an amused smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t say I’ve ever heard anyone call him that before.”
She shrugged, circling the rim of her glass with her fingertip. “That’s surprising. It fits him pretty well, don’t you think?”
He shook his head. “Wouldn’t know. I’ve never had a reason to speak to him. And if you hadn’t looked so cozy over there, I’d have been glad to avoid the introduction.” His knuckles turned white on the handle of his drink. “He may be Kunbriat, but I’d rather not give him a reason to pay any extra attention to me.”
“Boulder,” Sage frowned, “as much as I appreciate you escorting me here, you don’t have to—”
“You know how much I admire your spunk, firecracker, but let me give you some friendly advice.” His eyes bored into hers. All trace of his earlier teasing had vanished. “Stay away from him.”
She worked her jaw back and forth in annoyance. “I’ve known Kai since I was a kid, Boulder. He doesn’t scare me.”
“He should.” Boulder leaned across the table, speaking in a low voice. Sage could barely hear him over the crowd and the music that had grown louder since they’d first walked in. “He’s risen faster in the ranks of government than almost anyone—and he has a direct line to the next member of the Quorum.”
“So?” Sage lifted her chin.
“So?” Boulder repeated, looking at her like she’d lost her mind. “So you have to wonder what someone like that has done to get to where he is.”
She pursed her lips. “You don’t think he’s just proving himself incredibly worthy in his service to Eprah? That’s what we all do, right?”
“Of course he is.” Boulder’s gaze dropped to his drink. “That’s what worries me about him. I mean, I know what I’ve done to prove to Eprah that I’m worthy…” He trailed off, letting his vague admission hang in the air along with its implications.
Sage frowned. Given what she knew of Kai, nothing he’d done would really surprise her anymore. “Well, don’t worry. I’m not exactly planning to spend all my spare time with him.”
He nodded stiffly, seeming to accept her answer.
“Want me to comm some of the other guys? See if they want to come by tonight?” Boulder asked, changing the subject.
“I’m not sure I’ll make great company.” She shrugged. “You can if you want to stay, but you’re right. This isn’t really my scene.” Her gaze darted back to where Kai had been sitting. The booth was empty now. “I might not stick around that much longer.”
“Really? Because I was thinking this might be a good time to fess up about my nickname.” Mischief glinted in his eyes.
She forced a smile. “Maybe some other time.”
“Can’t wait.”
He grinned as Sage took another sip of her drink.
“I, uh… I need to go to the bathroom.” She stood, cocking her head at him in a question. “Which way?”
Boulder lifted his drink, indicating a hallway in the back of the club.
“Thanks.” She started in that direction and stopped, turning back to him. “I might be awhile, and I’ll probably just leave as soon as I finish. You can head home if you want—you don’t need to wait for me.”
He shot her a look of disapproval. “That wouldn’t make me a very good escort.”
She frowned. “Well, then, consider yourself relieved of duty. I’d actually kind of like to walk home by myself.”
“That’s
definitely not the best idea you’ve had tonight. I don’t mind w—”
“Please, Boulder.” She bit her lip. “I’ll be fine. I promise.”
He slumped back in his seat. “Fine,” he grumbled. “But I’ll stay for awhile longer. In case you change your mind.”
Her lips twitched into a half-smile. “Ok. But not too long just for my sake, alright?”
Boulder grunted, and Sage realized that was the most agreement she’d get from him. She flashed him a resigned look, leaving him alone at the table.
The club had filled up considerably now. Music pressed against her ribs every time she inhaled. She squeezed herself between tons of thrashing, wriggling bodies as she made her way into the hall.
She let out a sigh of relief when she opened the bathroom door. She’d been counting on the place being at least halfway decent, and it was. Spending the night here wasn’t ideal, but it would give her a chance to clear her head without having to deal with Everett. After last night, she didn’t completely trust herself around him.
Pushing open one of the stall doors, Sage ducked inside, locking it behind her. She sank down the wall, leaning her head back wearily. The past day had stirred up a wide range of feelings, and she wasn’t sure which ones to address first.
Love? Hate?
Sage squeezed her eyes shut, blowing out a slow breath.
Everett hadn’t really questioned her last night when she’d finally shown interest in him. In fact, it seemed pretty easy for him to accept that she loved him. And in a way, she knew she did. She’d more than simply grown used to him—she’d begun to care about him, about what happened to him.
But was it love? Or was it just concern manufactured from circumstances?
He obviously had feelings for her—she’d known that for awhile—but he’d never once acted on them. Never forced her to feel a certain way about him or fulfill her duty against her will.
She drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, burying her face in them as more recent memories stormed into the front of her mind.
Kai had killed Penelope. Sage didn’t know what she’d been hoping to accomplish by confronting him, but at least now she knew for certain that he was the one behind her death. And in some sick way, he actually thought he was doing the right thing.
Tears filled her eyes. The night was wearing on, and she was no closer to knowing how she felt about Everett. The uncertainty ate at her. She had no idea how she could’ve been so cavalier about their relationship—how she could’ve thrown away her final protest against Eprah’s control in an instant—and she didn’t even know if it had been worth it, if she’d gotten pregnant.
Bonus Chances or not, it wasn’t worth it.
Unless it was.
Maybe it was. There was a distinct possibility that she did love him, and that scared her. Eprah always took what she loved. Always.
Worry overshadowed her momentary joy. Her eyelids grew heavy. Tiredness mingled with fear, anger with excitement. Her chest felt like it might burst from all the questions and uncertainty.
But her feelings for Kai remained quite clear.
As she drifted off, one thought surfaced, playing over and over again in her mind.
She’d find a way to make him pay.
20. DIAGNOSIS
“Come on back, hon.” The nurse peeked out from behind the door, motioning to Sage.
She stood, tugging on the bottom of her jacket as she followed the nurse into the hallway.
“Go ahead and change. I’ll be right back,” the nurse said as she ushered Sage into a room, closing the door.
“Ok.”
As soon as the nurse left, Sage peeled off the clothes she’d been living in for the past two days. For once, she was grateful to be trading them for the plastic robe in the corner bin. She hadn’t had a chance to change since she’d snuck out of her apartment the previous morning, and sleeping in a bathroom stall hadn’t done her any favors. Pulling her hair back had somewhat disguised the fact that she hadn’t gone home, but it didn’t make her feel any less disgusting.
Even the other techs had noticed she’d had a rough night—they’d answered all her reqs for her, letting her stay holed up at her desk on the third floor until the end of her shift.
The door swung open again just as Sage was settling in on the table.
“Alright, hon, before we give you another dose, let’s check and see if the first one had any effect,” the nurse said, preparing to draw blood.
Sage flinched as she felt the needle piercing her skin. “You can already tell? Isn’t it—isn’t it a little early?” Her heart pounded a little harder as the past two days replayed in a quick flash in her mind.
“Of course it’s early.” The nurse ran a swab over the inside of her arm, then walked to the other side of the room, depositing the sample. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not able to determine if fertilization occurred.”
“Oh.”
The nurse tapped her tablet. Her eyes darted from the screen to Sage. “And it would seem you’re already in need of a new exam schedule. I suppose congratulations are in order.”
All the color drained from Sage’s face. “What?”
“Right here. See, hon?” She tilted the databook toward her. “According to this, conception only took place about thirty-six hours ago.” She flashed her a smug smile. “Your treatment must have worked.”
“That’s…” Sage’s chest heaved with shallow breaths as she tried to process what the nurse was telling her. “We only…”
“It was your first try, wasn’t it?” The nurse clucked her tongue. “It shouldn’t have been, hon. But don’t worry. You’re not the only girl who’s sat there with that surprised look on their face after starting their new injections.”
The hairs on the back of Sage’s neck stood on end. “What do you mean?”
“Let me guess.” She pursed her lips, looking at her in amusement. “You’d never really looked at him that way before the other night, had you? Maybe you didn’t even like him before, but suddenly, he was irresistible?”
Sage’s cheeks reddened. “How—” she croaked.
“Please.” The nurse rolled her eyes. “You think you’re the first one who’s had trouble performing their duty? The injection you received the other day made it much easier.”
Sage stared back at her in silent horror as her words sank in.
“Trust me. It’s better this way.” The nurse glanced back down at her tablet. “Now that your pregnancy’s been confirmed, you’ll both get the Chances you’ve earned, and you can—”
“How could you?” she whispered hoarsely.
The nurse looked annoyed at the interruption. “I’m just doing my job. Following protocol.”
“You took away my choice in this.” Sage glared at her accusingly. “You had no right—”
“Oh, hon, don’t be so melodramatic. It’s alright,” the nurse crooned. “It doesn’t so much take away your choice as help you relax and make the right choice more appealing.” A smile flitted across her lips. “Much more appealing.”
She deposited her things in a tray on the wall and turned back to Sage, grinning knowingly. “Besides, your pair didn’t receive the same injection, did he? He wasn’t under any additional influence. Either one of you still could’ve said no, but if it’d been you, I’d have been very surprised.”
“But he never would have…” Sage closed her eyes and put a hand to her head, trying to stop the room from spinning. Everett had asked her if she was sure. She choked back the rising bile in her throat. “I told him I…”
“On some level, you must have been ready for this step. The injection’s not a miracle-worker, just a hard nudge in the right direction.” The nurse shrugged. “And we almost never even need to give the male pair a dose—only if they’ve indicated resistance in prior appointments. It’s not usually necessary, but we are prepared for the need, should it arise.”
Blinking hard to hold back tears, Sage stared
at the nurse in disbelief. “And I’m supposed to be able to fight it?”
“Of course not, hon.” She frowned. “That’s the whole point. It’s your duty.”
“But not my choice?”
The nurse sighed loudly, her patience wearing thin. “You only received it once—you can stop whining about it now. You’ve done your duty, and you won’t be expected to undergo anymore pre-conception injections. I’ve put a note in your file.”
Sage gritted her teeth. “Is that all?”
“You’ll need to come back in two weeks for another exam and nutrition boost, but unless you experience any unusual symptoms in the meantime, you don’t need to come back any earlier. Your clothes will be returned to you momentarily.”
Her fingers curled around the edge of the table, gripping it tightly as she stared back at her wordlessly.
“This is a good thing. You’ll see.” The nurse paused with the door partially open. “Congratulations again.”
21. SCARS
Sage’s eyes were red-rimmed and puffy when she left the clinic. Her two-day-old, crumpled clothes no longer fazed her as she strode purposefully in the direction of her apartment. Everything had changed. This wasn’t just about her anymore—or even her and Everett. The choices she made now would affect someone who hadn’t even been born yet—someone who was barely more than a thought but was enough for Eprah to take more than a little interest in.
They both had more Chances now. Her stomach churned uneasily. She had to tell Everett. About the Chances. About the baby. About the special injection. Like it or not, this all involved him too.
But she didn’t want to talk to him.
Quickening her pace, she crossed the street. With any luck, Everett wouldn’t be home when she got there. Maybe she could grab a quick shower and change—hide out at the club again until she figured out what to do.
Sage hesitated at the end of an alley, glancing down it warily. This wasn’t a predominately red-colored zone, so it was probably okay if she took the shortcut, but the encounter with Dutch still had her reeling. She was in a hurry though, so she blew out a shaky breath and took a step forward.
