TWENTY-TWO
DELILAH
And just like that,everything has reverted to the way it was before Finneas’s return. It’s mind-boggling. A swift knock spurs me into action. I rub the sleep from my eyes and dampen my lips before rising hurriedly from the bed. With a grimace, I allow myself a cursory glance at the literature on my bedside table, then smooth the worn gray cotton gown over my hips. My eyes track to the door, waiting for it to swing wide.That’ll be Twenty-Two ready for me.Rest time is over.
I wonder what’s in store for me next because I’d been shocked nearly speechless—ha—at the turn of events once the Collective had finished with me in the gathering room. They’d taken me to the bath. Twenty-Two had been waiting beside a tub of steaming-hot water. I’d almost passed out right there at the idea that I might finally be clean again… and there was nothing I wanted more after those assholes had finished with me.
The entire time I was allowed to scrub myself clean, Twenty-Two had remained there, looking on, an unspeaking sentinel. Then, I’d been escorted back to my room—not the cell—and given two hours to sleep. I don’t know what to make of any of it, except that they’ve gotta be fucking with me to keep me off balance.
The door opens, and sure enough, my eyes land on a swollen belly before traveling up to find Twenty-Two’s soft gaze. She beckons me to follow her out to the main room and puts me to work at the counter. I frown at the large pile of potatoes in front of me.Do they have some place they store root veggies?They must. I shrug, then proceed to open jar after jar of canned vegetables, then several jars of canned stew meat. I know nothing about living off the grid like this, but it’d make sense that at this time of year, they wouldn’t really have much that’s not canned or frozen available. Or dried, maybe? They’ve gotta have a dehydrator somewhere, too. I’ve had both jerky and dried fruit since being here.
As I steadily dump ingredients into an enormous pot, I look around for a clue as to where the other women are, but they’re nowhere in sight. In fact, there’s not a single sign of them. I frown at that, but it’s just as well because I don’t know how I’d handle having to be in the same room with Twenty-One so soon after she showed me her crazy again. She’s completely fucking nuts… and this thing she has for Kiefer?Gross.I don’t even want to know what wouldhappen if she were to realize that he seems to have a sick fascination withme. Or that he seems to really enjoy forcing me to?—
My eyes crash shut, and a harsh exhale blasts from my lips. I don’t want to think about what it’s been like for me with him or any of these other perverts.
Setting that aside for now, I study Twenty-Two as she works with the children at the table. It’d seem the chores of caring for the children and preparing for the midday meal are solely up to the two of us today. She has the littlest ones busy drawing with crayons while the ones of about elementary school age carefully trace letters on paper.
“Twenty-Two! Yook! Yook what I drew!” My gaze shifts, watching the excited little blond boy as he holds up his masterpiece. The moment she shows him attention, more children call out to her, each of them insistent that she have a look at what they’ve been drawing. She smiles indulgently, rubbing her stomach with one hand as she walks slowly around the table, admiring each boy’s work.
I swallow hard as I mull over a question that has been with me since almost the beginning of this nightmare. Where are the female children? While I nibble on my lip, something distasteful prickles at the edges of my thoughts.
I don’t have time to think more on it, though, because Twenty-Two joins me, motioning that I should add the potatoes into an oversize pot that already has some sort of broth simmering in it. OnceI’m done, she points to the chalkboard with our list of chores and motions to the broom, bucket, and mop that are in the corner. There’s a lot to be done, and I sigh, but fill the bucket with water and soap.
It takes me ages to sweep the dust and dirt from the floor before I can even get started with the mopping, and while I’m completing the task, I can’t help but let my mind wander.Submission.I know it’s the way to make these Kool-Aid drinkers relax enough around me to get what I want.No matter how going along with their absurd rules, rituals, and backward mindset makes my stomach clench, it will be easier on me in the long run. If I continue fighting against their beliefs, it will only make things worse, and these deviants might harm me more than they already have before I can ever find a way back to civilization.
As much as it pains me to do so, I have to return to my previous strategy: unquestioning obedience—live peacefully within this society and stay away from the Collective as much as possible. The goal has to be to escape their notice by making myself nearly invisible. And in the meantime, I’ll continue to determine the best way to get through to their sons.
Dragging the mop and bucket down the hallway that leads to all the bedrooms, I consider each of them—Hayze. Cross. Malakai. Arrow. To gain my freedom, I’ll use whatever tactics make the most sense. It’s obvious they’re starved for real—not forced—interaction with a woman. I’m trying hard to make them see me—value me—as something more than avessel. At the thought of the word the Collective use for the women who carry their children, I shudder hard.
The road we’ve been on together has been twisted, so littered with ruts and holes and things that’ve tripped us up, but I know I’m not imagining it—they’re unlike the others. More and more, I’m beginning to see them for what they are, a bit lost and bewildered by the current circumstances.
Thereisa danger in getting close to them, though. They’re beginning to have an effect on me. I feel something for… more than one of them.
I stop outside the last door on the right and rap my knuckles against it, thinking I’ll work my way from these back rooms down the hallway. Of course, there’s no answer. I almost laugh to myself. This is Eight’s room. Hesitantly, I cringe as I twist the knob and poke my head in. I’d assumed all the rooms would be empty, so I’m almost knocked backward when I spy Eight lying in her bed.
What in the hell?
Her eyes are curious, but she simply stares at me, waiting. For what, I don’t know. I’m not supposed to speak to her, and it’s not like she can say a damn thing to me even if she wanted to. I also haven’t been given a writing utensil, paper or a notepad or anything.
So, I do the only thing I can do… sweep and mop her room… and exit, leaving all my questions behind unanswered.
When I get to the other rooms, it’s more of thesame. Twenty-One and Sixteen are also just hanging out in their beds. It’s fucking bizarre.
Finneas had said earlier that the three of them were busy doing their duty to the Collective. The more I think about it, a startling truth dawns. Maybe I’m making wild assumptions, but I don’t think I’m wrong. The duty they’redoing… is resting after being bred during the Hunting. Do they simply get pampered after the fact? Are they allowed to sleep in? I shake my head. Technically, they inseminated me, too, only it was nothing I willingly accepted. They also have no clue that there won’t be any children growing inside me anytime soon.Thank fuck.A violent shudder racks my body at the thought of them ever finding out I have an IUD.
I complete my work all while my mind churns through one thought after another, then mindlessly head upstairs to sweep the main floor of the compound before mopping the hardwoods.
I’m in the process of sweeping the stone steps that lead to the third floor when I hear voices drift upward from below.
“Any of us could have screwed that up.” The voice is a bit hesitant and plenty husky. It belongs to Arrow. I wait, barely breathing, with my brows pinched together.What’s he talking about? And who is the other person?
“Fuck!” The sharply barked curse makes me suck in an audible breath, and I cover my mouth. “But it didn’t happen to you because you never would havedone that. You’d have looked at it and known it was wrong before you made the cut.”
It’s Hayze. I cock my head to one side. He sounds soangrywith himself. Devastated by whatever has happened.
“You’re too fucking hard on yourself. Why didn’t you just tell your?—?”
Arrow never gets to finish before Hayze growls, “Oh. Because that’s ever been a fucking option. It’s bad enough admitting to a fuckup. You know what my father would do if he knew there’s something…wrongwith me.”
