Page 67 of Gorgeous Misery

“Fine.” I put up my hands in surrender. “Then I’ll stop fucking around and get to the point.” I look at Merc. “You have no idea what’s really going on in this world. Adam keeps the whole thing manageable. He hunts them down now.”

Merc’s eyebrow shoots up. “Them?”

“Not you. Well, if were still working for those assholes, he would kill you. But you’re not important, Merc. Not in his mind. He’s looking for stragglers. He’s looking for those dealership owners. Those small-town bankers. That’s who he’s after. The ones who didn’t get the ‘cure.’” I do air quotes for that word because it was never meant to be a cure at all. And that’s why I’m fucking here in the first place. That’s why Wendy is in Merc’s clutches right now. And I’m so tired of that goddamn word, I wish I never had to speak it out loud again.

“The cure?” Harrison asks. “The cure for what?”

“It’s not important,” I say. “It wasn’t a cure.”

Merc sighs. “I’m still failing to see any points here.”

“Wrong,” I say. “You had a point. You said they weren’t for harvest. The people you were hunting. Who were they?”

Merc takes a moment to wipe a fresh trail of blood away from his left eye. “The mothers. The ones who ran.” He looks at Harrison. “People like Sasha’s mom. Harper’s mom. The upper elite women who thought they’d be able to make that choice—”

“The promise or death,” I say for him.

“Yeah. Most of them,” Merc continues, “they just gave up. The way you describe the lower class in the Company towns.”

“The druggies,” I say. “The drunks and the criminals.”

“Right,” Merc agrees. “Most of the mothers were like that too. They gave up long before they started having babies.” He looks back to Harrison. “When these elite women give birth, and they have a girl, they either send them right back into the Company as assassins, like Sydney, who are used, and abused, and sent on missions—”

“Like Sasha?” Harrison asks.

“No,” Merc and I say at the same time.

“Not like her,” I say. “Her mother took the other choice. Which is self-sacrifice. Her mother died minutes after she gave birth so that Sasha could be free—like Harper. So she could grow up to be someone’s promise.”

Merc’s voice goes low. “Married off to another elite. Most of the time a very old man who wants one more chance at a boy.”

“What the fuck?” Harrison says. “Why do the mothers have to die? I don’t get it.”

“So they can harvest them,” I say.

“For what? Hearts and shit?”

“Whatever is needed. Skin. Eyes. Organs. Fucking toes. All of it. But more importantly, they have to die so they can keep the masses in check with fear. The Company controls people with fear.”

Merc sighs. “And it works.”

“Like a fucking charm,” I agree.

Harrison makes a face. “That’s sick.”

Whatever. “This is the world we live in, Harrison.”

“The world you live in. Not me.”

“Newsflash, buddy. We run the world you live in. We let you exist here. But make no mistake. I don’t care how many jets you own, you step one inch over that line, Harrison, they will kill you without even blinking.”

“This Adam guy, you mean?”

“No, Merc. Fuck’s sake, man. Aren’t you listening to me? Not Adam. He’s cleaning up, remember?”

“Then who are you talking about?” Merc is annoyed. And I don’t blame him. If he was selling me this line of shit, I’d be annoyed too.

But I don’t answer him right away. I have to be really careful what I say here. Everything depends on how I handle the next couple minutes. One wrong move and everything goes sideways.