I smile back, wiping the sweat from my forehead. I stand and extend my hand, helping Cam to their feet. “Thanks. I’ve had good teachers.”
Bec approaches us from where she’s been watching our session. “Your form looks good, Della. Just remember, if you have to use these skills in a real-life scenario, you’ll most likely have tons of adrenaline, which can help in the moment, but usually leads to a heavy crash afterwards.”
I nod. “Got it.”
“Any questions for me?” Cam asks, pulling their arm over their head in a stretch.
“No.” I look back and forth between them. “Thank you, both. For teaching me and being patient.”
Cam shrugs. “You’re a good student.”
I hum noncommittally. “So I’ve been told.”
Bec checks her watch. “Come on, you’ve got an appointment with V.”
We part ways with Cam and head toward the medical tent, the second stop in my day. Maverick and I spent hours planning and strategizing last night, deciding it would be best to return me to New Athens as soon as possible so it seems more believable. This way, hopefully, it will seem like the Resistance saw Gabriel’s video, got spooked, and sent me “home” to avoid any confrontation with the Brotherhood. Once I’m back, I’ll do whatever I need to do to convince Gabriel that I’m happy to be home while simultaneously gathering asmuch information as I can so the Resistance can strike. We—along with the council—decided that getting a few women out every few months isn’t enough anymore. If real change is going to happen, we need to take out the high lords and free the women of New Athens, which is obviously easier said than done. So, I’ll be training—hard—over the next few days until we can make arrangements for me to go back.
We get to V’s, and Bec pulls me in for a hug. “Thank you.”
I laugh as her small frame squeezes me tight. “For what?”
She pulls away, looking at me with total sincerity. “For doing this. With you, we might actually have a chance to bring the Brotherhood down.”
I wince, insecurity tensing my shoulders. “Don’t thank me yet. I haven’t done anything.”
A devilish smile spreads across her face. “You will, Della. Those fuckers will never know what hit ‘em.”
I try to match her enthusiasm, but I can’t help but feel nervous about the entire operation. “Thanks, Bec.”
We part ways and I step into V’s tent, where she’s bent over her microscope, per usual. She looks up and gives me a warm smile. “Ah, good morning, Della.”
No one has called me Mrs. Sinclair since I decided to help the Resistance, which I’m grateful for, since thinking of my husband makes me sick. “Morning, V.”
“I just wanted to talk to you about something before you go back to New Athens. I’m afraid it might be a rather sensitive topic.”
I take a seat on the stool and cross my arms, nodding at her to go on.
“I know we discussed your history of infertility when you first arrived.”
“Yes.” Before I got here, talking about pregnancy and babies made me sad. Now, all I feel is relief—not only tonotbe the mother of Gabriel’s children, but also because I don’t know if I could live with myself knowing I brought children into a place like New Athens.
“As I mentioned before, your blood work showed that your body was under a great amount of stress. Along with your irregular periods, I believe the elevated cortisol levels played a significant part in preventing you from being able to get pregnant.”
I nod. “Makes sense. The doctors could never find a concrete reason for my infertility.”
V pushes her bright red frames up her nose. “I thought it might be prudent to offer you some birth control while you’re back in New Athens.”
I thought of this, too, of course. Gabriel will expect me to behave as I was trained to—as a wife of the Brotherhood—which means sleeping with him whenever he pleases. “Won’t they check me?”
“My colleagues in Canada have been developing a monthly injection that blocks ovulation. It’s proven effective in clinical trials soif I give it to you now it should prevent pregnancy for at least thirty days.”
“It’s better than nothing,” I admit, my stomach knotted. One, because up until very recently, I believed any kind of birth control to be morally wrong, and two, because the idea of having sex with Gabriel makes me incredibly nervous.
V rips open an alcohol pad and preps a patch of skin on my upper arm, then opens a new syringe and grabs a small glass bottle of the medication off her shelf. She fills the barrel and taps it a few times to get rid of any air bubbles before administering the medication. She sticks a small adhesive bandage over the injection site and I pull my sleeve back down.
“Anything else?” I ask.
“Would you like to discuss the psychological implications of sleeping with your husband?”
