Page 22 of A Monster’s Future

“Julie!” I dove into the crowd, shoving against the tide of bodies.

But my mate was gone.

Chapter 11: Julie

The crowd moved like a living thing, shoving and pushing, and suddenly I was no longer in control of my own body. Shoulders slammed into me, elbows jabbed my ribs, and the ground beneath my feet seemed to shift with every step. I tried to turn, to fight my way back, but there was nothing I could do but continue with the crowd or get trampled. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out the shouts and screams around me.

When the crowd finally calmed, I was lost, and nothing looked familiar. The only saving grace was that I knew I was still somewhere inside the tent. Except the tent had clearly been only a façade; it was much larger inside than it had appeared on the outside. This market was huge, spanning at least several blocks if we were back in Nova Vita.

I scanned the sea of faces, searching for a familiar one, but found nothing. Surely two Kadrixan warriors and Igor would be easy to spot. But I saw no flash of red skin or Igor’s copper-lined helmet in the crowd, just strangers, some of whom were just as confused as I was. There were several children who looked thoroughly lost and were starting to cry. A woman in a uniform came to corral them all up, asking them about their parents.

A man’s voice cut through the noise.

“Need help? You look lost.”

I turned. A man stood there, his hands in his pockets. His eyes locked onto mine, and something about the way he looked at me made my stomach twist.

“I’m fine,” I said, stepping back. “I’m here with friends.”

He tilted his head, his grin never wavering. “Are you sure? Because you look like you’re all by yourself. What’s your name?”

I ignored him, turning away to search the crowd again. But before I could take another step, his hand closed around my wrist, his grip firm. His touch made my skin crawl.

“I asked you your name,” he said, his voice low.

“That’s none of your business. Let go of me.”

Suddenly there was a knife wedged up against my sternum, hidden from the view of everyone else by his body. “You’re going to behave and follow me. I saw you with those Kadrixans. I know who you are. And if you scream, I’m going to cut you open.”

It was only now that I realized what was wrong about him. The Galactic English here wasn’t exactly the same as back on Vokira. Everyone here had an accent, or maybe it was us who had the accent since Vokira was considered a backwoods planet. But either way, it made it a little difficult to understand. But this guy? I understood him perfectly. This guy sounded like me, or Annabel, or Kat. This guy was from Nova Vita.

We were in a hallway clearly meant for vendors and other market workers, not regular shoppers. It was long and had many unmarked doors, and I assumed each led to a business that was lucky enough to have one of the permanent units inside the building, instead of a stall or table. Unlike the richly decorated old-world bazaar outside, this hallway was nothing but cold concrete, the paint of the wall peeling in places. There were bags of garbage piled in front of some of the doors.

There was a badge hanging off the man’s belt, and I squinted at it, trying to make out the words. The badge was flipped over so that all I could see was a bunch of small print, but I did catch three letters as it bounced on his hip. OMN—. My brain filled in the rest. Omnia Pictures. That had been the company that Dana had worked for back on Nova Vita. I could be wrong, but it was the best guess I had.

There hadn’t been enough time for Nova Vita or Omnia Pictures to send anyone this way, but that didn’t mean they didn’t already have correspondents stationed here. The thing about the media giant was that it was also the colony’s eyes and ears. Most of what they reported to the public was colony-issued propaganda anyway. Their real job was to keep the people at the top in the know.

The man was dragging me toward the door at the end, which was different from all the other ones. My guess was that it led out of the market. Somehow, I knew that I couldn’t let him bring me outside. As we passed by a yellow and black sign warning of a wet floor, I reacted. I grabbed the sign and smashed it as hard as I could against the guy’s head.

Not expecting it, the douchebag didn’t even try to stop me as I whacked him right in the face. Red spurted from his nose, and his hand instinctively released me to hold it. I turned and ran down the hall the way we had come.

I was only feet away from the door when I was suddenly yanked back by the arm. The moment I saw that it was my attacker again and not one of my friends, I let out the loudest, shrillest scream I could muster, hoping it would travel through the door and into the market. Sure, he could shank me now with that knife, but now that I knew he was from Omnia Pictures, I doubted he would. It had to have been an empty threat.

Omnia Pictures thrived on information, and until he got the information from me, I doubted he’d waste me. Clearly this guy had joined the cult much more so than Dana had, if he was willing to kidnap a woman for his work. That or he was being paid very well.

“You bitch!”

He raised his hand and I ducked, but not in time. His hand hit me anyway, and even though it was only a glancing blow and not nearly as hard as it could have been, I gasped at the pain.

The man’s fingers tangled in my hair, yanking hard enough to make my eyes water. I twisted, trying to break free, yelling at the top of my lungs. Then his other hand came up, slapping me across the face with enough force to snap my head to the side. The sting spread across my cheek, hot and sharp.

That was his mistake.

A snarl ripped through the air, so low and vicious that I felt it vibrating my bones. The man’s weight vanished from behind me as Grtirr’s clawed fingers closed around his wrist. The sound of bone cracking under the pressure was something I’d never forget, especially so close to my ears. The man screamed, his fingers spasming open in an instant. Grtirr didn’t stop there. His free hand shot out, seizing the man’s throat and slamming him against the nearest wall. The man’s face twisted in terror, his unbroken hand clawing at Grtirr’s forearm.

Grtirr leaned in, his voice a growl. “You touched what’s mine.”

The man’s eyes bulged. The toes of his shoes scratched against the floor, searching for purchase, but Grtirr didn’t let go. He just squeezed harder, his claws digging in until the man’s struggles weakened.