When Lanny came to tell her that Maura was not doing well, Merrick had been watching. He gave her a triumphant grin.
While Sasha doubted he had it in him to compel her submission, there were too many other things he could do that would keep her under his rule. He was an alpha, after all.
He might force her into a marriage contract. The possibility existed. Why hadn’t it occurred to her that he would ignore Administration laws? Her willingness wouldn’t matter if he could convince the right people to look the other way. That must have been Maura’s plan. Merrick was just waiting for her to die before he carried it out.
Sasha needed a stronger alpha. An honorable alpha. Someone she chose. Maura wanted to strip that from her, rape her own daughter of the right to choose. She wanted to punish her own child for being born.
If Sasha did nothing, Maura would get her wish.
Determination filled her. She'd learned how to endure, but also how to take care of herself and her drones. Sometimes one had to just hold still and take the beating, lower their eyes in pretend meekness, and let the pain block out everything else. And sometimes one had to stand up in defiance, raise their eyes, and find a solution.
If she did nothing, her life would be predictable misery. The lives of her friends, the drones she grew up with, would be constant harassment and drudgery. They would be treated without care or respect.
So, Sasha would do something. She'd choose a stronger alpha.
She'd choose someone Merrick couldn't win against.
Her plan took shape as she lay in the dark of her room, considering who she needed to go to, how she might get there, and what she would say when she arrived. She spent a restless night lost in planning. Then, it was time to get up and start setting things in motion.
She'd have to leave Dover's End to Merrick's leadership for a few days, a risky proposition. Even leaving for a half-day at the market felt dangerous.
The first time she left with Silas, Patrick, and Lilla on their weekly supply run, Sasha had returned at dusk to find four naked beta women dancing on tables in the main bar room. Merrick liked to have surprises for Sasha whenever she returned.
Hours yet from first light, she gathered supplies. It kept her hands and swirling thoughts busy, to slink downstairs and avoid notice while males were drinking up the potent gin of Dover's End. It sounded like there was still a crowd in the main room, which must have pleased Merrick, if they were the paying kind of customer. He sometimes thought an exchange of favors paid the bills just as well as credits.
Maybe she could go and come back in three days—two for travel, one for convincing. Maybe. Doubtful. She'd never been farther than the market. The need to stay safe had always outweighed any of her curiosities. Child or not, females did not go anywhere alone. Ever.
She'd dress like a drone, camouflage herself, take food and water, and use the mead money for public transport once she was out of Sector 10. Since Merrick expected market day, she’d go with the drones in the donkey wagon. She’d be on her own after that.
The old donkeys were strong enough to pack goods in and out for market, not so good for speed and escaping an alpha. She’d go by foot. Take a transport. She would have a good part of the day before Merrick would notice she was gone. A good part of the day to get where he couldn't find her.
And he wouldn't be able to find her, because Sasha had no idea where she was going. She had a name. That was all. A name she remembered hearing her father mention again and again with his friends gathered around the card table.
A name Merrick had reminded her of.
After sneaking out of the main building, Sasha found Silas sleeping on his pallet in the still house. Like Lilla and Lanny, he had been a part of her life as long as she could remember. The old man had often watched out for her, hiding her from Maura when her father traveled for pub business.
He was in his late sixties now, thin and strong, crowned with a short, wiry beard and silver hair. Joints knotted from arthritis, his weathered features and curved spine told the story of a hard life.
Once a property owner in a better sector, when his wife and son died from an infection, he lost his desire for civilized living. A shine addiction had brought him to the slums. Servitude and poverty made the drug unobtainable, and he'd gained back some of himself—if not his life—helping to run the still and fill the gin bottles for Sasha's father.
Sasha rested a hand lightly on his arm. Sometimes she thought she could feel his bone eating arthritis and she imagined drawing it out of him, calling it to herself where it could do no harm. It was a silly fantasy, but it felt natural and she did it anyway, picturing his pain as black mold and demanding it come to her.
In the dark her eyesight was better than the old man's. She saw his lids move, blinking awake.
"Silas," she whispered. "I've decided that tomorrow I have to get away. Will you help me? I need to leave the sector, go find help."
"Child? What are you saying?" he croaked, rousing too slowly to understand.
She patted his arm. "It's the only way. Maura and Merrick have set up a plan to give Merrick Dover's End and trap me. Trap all of us. He's no good, Silas. I thought I'd be free of that man when Maura died. I’d planned to pick a good husband from the Selection. I never thought he'd want me. Look at me. I don't look like a woman you marry, do I?"
"You still have growing to do, I think. But… What are you telling me?" He rubbed at his face, trying to wake himself. "What are you telling me?"
"Tomorrow I was going to get the honey for the mead, but instead I’m going to the border to catch the bus. There should be a bus, right?"
"Oh, aye. One damn bus that comes in from the other sectors. Administrator Ebbon Blaze here is so blasted obstinate. Only the bare essentials in exchange for his right to govern as shittily as he sees fit."
Sasha giggled. "Silas, don't talk bad about the Administration or an alpha. You could get in so much trouble."
