Me: Got it.
I stare at the clock on my cell. It switches to the next minute, and I type fast.
My hard drive whirs. A second square appears beside the first, pulsing in sync with the heartbeat like a mirrored organ. Then a directory opens, but only for a fraction of a second.
Still, I catch a glimpse before the system slams shut again, locking everything behind a wall thick as steel. It's a handful of lines, but every one of them drives something hot and unforgiving through my spine.
SCARLET HOUR – SUPPLEMENT RECORD
SUBJECT: V.A. SCARLET HOUR — COMPLETE
CEREMONY OF EXPOSURE – SUPPLEMENT RECORD
FAILED: CEREMONY OF EXPOSURE
SUBJECT: S.O. — ONGOING
SUBJECT: Z.O. — ONGOING
SUBJECT: B.O. — ONGOING
SUBJECT: V.O. — ONGOING
SUBJECT: K.P. — ONGOING
SUBJECT: F.P. — ONGOING
My throat tightens, and my fists clench, but fear swirls into my anger. The same people who are behind the coup came after my wife when they branded her chest. And now, they have other plans.
The screen turns black, then the same warnings start scrolling. WhenSUBJECT: V.O. — ONGOINGpops up, I click before it disappears.
Then my gut twists with bile.
DIRECTIVE 19: BREEDING CYCLE – CONFIDENTIAL
SUBJECT: V.A. — REQUIRED PARTICIPATION
STATUS: ENFORCEABLE
The last line blinks over and over. I swallow hard and click on it again.
Then there's a document stamped in bloodred ink. At the top sits the Underworld skull, followed by a title that punches the air out of my lungs.
THE SACRED LINE MUST BE ENFORCED - MONTHLY HARVEST UNTIL 40 THEN ELIMINATE.
A chart unfolds. It's clinical, organized with obsessive precision. Bloodlines. Fertility windows. Genetic compatibility matrices.
Valentina's name sits at the center of a grotesque diagram, branching into hundreds of projected offspring.
A series of bullet points scroll across the screen, making my gut flip faster.
MANDATE: OVUM EXTRACTION TO COMMENCE UPON NEXT FULL MOON.
TARGET OUTPUT: 6–12 VIABLE EMBRYOS PER CYCLE.
GESTATIONAL ASSIGNMENTS: VARIED (SEE ATTACHED PAIRING LIST).
My stomach knots into raw violence.
