by Lora Ann
The man ran a scanner over Stephen’s new tattoo—a gift acquired upon his sentencing to Exile. The barcode was his name tag imprinted on his arm. No longer the hunter, but the hunted. Branded cattle with a marker to show who owned him.
The Human spat on the floor next to Stephen as he waited for the particulars to appear on the screen, and Stephen’s hands balled into fists as he stared down at the disgusting splatters of saliva that now desecrated his jeans. What he could do to him if his hands were his own. It would not be saliva that Stephen would be wiping off his jeans, of that he was sure.
“Nick. Mason. 932416.” Stephen wanted to congratulate him on being able to read. His pseudonym—a mere face to his true identity. He was certain the Human had no fucking idea as to who he really was. Not that it mattered if Stephen didn’t manage to escape execution.
The man began to say something, no doubt an attempt at a joke at Stephen’s expense perhaps. Another misdemeanour Stephen could add to the long list of things to get retribution for. But the Human’s words were cut short by the sound of screeching metal. His head snapped back as he watched the roof of the bus being peeled back as though it were nothing more than the foil on a stick of gum.
Stephen blinked to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating when he saw what it was that had so effortlessly just torn off the entire top of the bus. Vaguely, he heard the stunned exclamations from the rest of the prisoners as a young girl landed daintily and soundlessly on the floor in front of the Human next to Stephen. She rested a small hand on Stephen’s head and pushed his head back down with a strength that belied her delicate build. “Do not look at me.” Her voice was childlike, mellifluous. For reasons he couldn’t quite explain, he kept his head down. Maybe it was shock, or the palpable power that emanated from her, but he had enough sense not to look again.
The Human gulped, lifting a shaking gun towards her. “D-Don’t move,” he stammered. “Hands …”
The tell-tale snap of a neck being broken resounded in the sudden silence of the bus. It was not the content of the Human’s bladder that hit the floor, but the Human himself, his dead eyes staring up at Stephen unseeingly.
Stephen stayed absolutely still, his mind working a million miles a second. What kind of creature had strength such as this? Her small hands reached down and snapped the chains that held him in place as effortlessly as the roof she had just destroyed.
She slid her bony hand into his. “Come with me.”
He dared not disobey.
Table of Contents
Copyright
Warning
Read First
Acknowledgements
Dedication
Scripture
Quote
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Playlist
Special Note
Author Bio
Author Contact Information
Preview of Exile (Society Book 7) by Mason Sabre
