But all I feel is trapped.
56
VI
Later,I don’t know how much later, I force myself up. Sitting here alone in the dark isn’t helping. I need to move. To see something other than these four walls.
I slip out of my room and head toward the neutral zone.
The old food court is always busy this time of day with Rotters trading supplies, Runts moving between shifts, the low buzz of activity that never quite stops. It’s one of the few places in the Rot where you can blend in. Where being bound doesn’t automatically make you the center of attention.
I slip in through the side corridor, keeping my back to the wall. The emergency lights are brighter tonight, casting harsh white pools across the cracked tile. The smell of old grease mixes with cigarette smoke and something musty.
I don’t plan to stay long. Just long enough to breathe.
But then I hear voices. Low. Quiet. Efficient. I turn toward the sound.
Three men. One girl.
They’re in the far alcove, half hidden by an overturned counter. Not making a scene. Not drawing attention. Just... handling business.
Another young girl. Hands trembling at her sides. I recognize her from the hub. She works the same shift I do. Quiet. Keeps her head down.
One of the men steps forward. He doesn’t speak. Just looks at her.
She doesn’t look back. Her eyes are fixed on the floor. Submissive and obedient.
The second man pulls something from his pocket, a small notebook, worn at the edges. He flips it open, scribbles something with a stub of pencil, then snaps it shut.
The scarred one speaks. Voice flat. Final. “You’re bound. To us. Permanent. No reversal.”
The girl nods once. Small. Mechanical. No ceremony. No celebration. Just words and a ledger entry somewhere. The men step back. She stands there for a moment, then wipes her eyes quickly and goes back to the crates she was sorting before. Like nothing happened.
My chest tightens.
That could have been me if Armen, Sting, and Rogue hadn’t sealed their claim first. If I’d been just another Runt sorting crates. If I hadn’t been worth the risk.
I step back, about to leave, when a voice stops me. “Hey.”
I freeze.
A man steps into view, tall, lean, acne scars covering his cheeks. I don’t recognize him. He’s not from Armen’s crew. Not from anyone I know.
He smiles, slow, friendly. “Didn’t expect to see fresh faces out here.” His eyes flick over me, linger. “You’re the one they’re talking about. The bound girl.”
I don’t answer.
He steps closer. “Name’s Jax. My crew’s got a quiet spot not far from here. Better light. Warmer. You look like you could use a break.” He gestures vaguely toward the far exit. “Come see. No pressure.”
His tone is casual. Almost kind. But there’s something underneath it. Something that makes my skin crawl.
I shake my head. “I’m good.”
He laughs. “Come on. Don’t be like that. Just talk. See how the other side lives. Your guys won’t mind.”
“I said no.”
His smile fades. He steps closer, close enough I smell his rotten teeth. “You think your binding makes you untouchable? Three men against a lot more. One day, it won’t hold.”
