“Serun’s Law says nightwalkers can’t kill us because we’re Feeders…” Cole mumbles into his arm. “We’re safe here…”
We both glance at Cole, then back at each other, and grimace.
I want to tell my brother that the only reason we can’t be harmed is because the nightwalkers need us to live. The human population—their primary food source—was dwindling, so they built the Feeding Grounds.
Sure, we are safe, but that’s because we’re livestock.
Jax reaches out his other hand to my brother, but Colerecoils from his touch. “A month has passed since our last attempt. We almost fucking got out. If we don’t try again now, we might not be able to pull our weight next time.”
“We’re not getting any younger.” I place my hand over Jax’s. “I trust you.”
Jax squeezes my hand and says, “I’m hoping my thirties will be better than this.”
We’re the oldest ones here. I’m twenty-eight, and he’s twenty-nine. Others came before and after us who were much older—those who had given up on life, too weary and in pain from scavenging. They arrived in Darkovish, convinced Serun’s Law would protect them, only to be taken to the private room.
A shiver runs up my spine. “I don’t want to go into the private room.”
We don’t know what happens inside, only that no one returns. After a Bleeder calls a name and claims they are to see agod, all we can do is speculate that a nightwalker fed on them and drained them dry.
“You won’t.” His thumb glides up and down the back of my hand. “This will be our last fortnight at Darkovish Feeding Ground. Then you will see my home, and the slayers.”
The legends—hero lab rats who slay monsters. I have never seen one, so whenever he mentions them, I question the idea of a genetically engineered human who could kill the unkillable nightwalkers who rule Naylen.
“Slayers,” Cole mutters, expressing our shared scepticism.
Jax’s eyes narrow.
My fingers curl around the side of his hand, and I say, “Sorry. It’s hard to believe they exist when we’ve never seen one.”
A soft look shimmers in his blue eyes. “I know a few. When we get the fuck out of here, I’ll introduce you to them.”
“Rise!” a Bleeder calls. His face is covered by a balaclava, and he wears a black suit and red coat with a “B” symbol to signify his class in this country.
Our Naylen.
I wonder whether other parts of the world adhere to Naylen’s rules or if there are countries free of nightwalkers. I doubt it. I bet everyone has a vampire overlord and human livestock.
“Move!” the Bleeder says when he notices we are still seated. It takes us a second longer to listen. A second longer to care. That is, until his hand rests meaningfully on the handle of the gun strapped to his waist. Tension grips my throat, and I quickly rise with Cole and Jax.
“See you tonight,” Jax says. Warm knuckles brush against the back of my hand, igniting a flare of connection. A swirling warmth stirs in my heart before he pulls away and continues ahead of Dan while I walk hand-in-hand with my brother.
CHAPTER TWO
PROMISES
Feeders are a protected class of humans.
— Serun’s Law
The masked Bleederat the door keeps his gaze trained on us as we leave the mess. Cole’s grip tightens on my hand, his knuckles paling and emphasising the blue of his veins. His eyes remain fixed on the black-and-white tiles, but I keep my chin up.
Iwantto see the faces of those who imprisoned us here.
We walk down an amber-lit corridor with doors lining either side. Feeders spill into the rooms in groups of four. As we near the end, the praised room comes into view by the stairs leading to the first floor. Soft, enticing music plays as the Praised collapse onto beds made of thick material and sturdy springs.
As Laura reaches the door, she glances back. Herblonde hair, tied high on her head, flicks to the side and rests against her shoulder. Her brown eyes are on Jax, and she bites her bottom lip.
Annoyance. Hindrance. The woman who fucks her pillow like it is Jax’s face most nights—according to Holly.
