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Chain of custody.

Quality control.

By then I had already begun asking questions about the settlements farther from the central colony. I’d heard rumors that humans lived in some of them with fewer officials deciding where they slept, worked, or belonged. I didn’t know how much of that was true. I only knew that waiting for someone to assign me another prospective mate made my skin crawl.

Then Sera’n petitioned for me.

He hadn’t rescued me out of kindness. He needed someone who understood laboratory procedure, and I needed somewhere to go.

What he offered was better than another assignment.

Work.

A reason to get up every morning that had nothing to do with whether some warrior might want me.

Eventually, I stopped asking about the outer settlements.

That arrangement had given me something resembling a life.

“I’m sorry,” I said, lowering my voice.

His expression softened slightly.

Then hardened again.

“Close the records, Talia.”

I looked back at the screen.

“Are they wrong?”

He didn’t answer.

That was answer enough.

I reached toward the display to close the archive.

Then stopped.

One of the compatibility identifiers on the newest duplicate caught my eye.

There was a linked historical reference beneath it.

I tapped it before Sera’n could stop me.

“Talia.”

Another file opened.

Human female.

Registration outcome archived.

Deceased prospective match.

My skin went cold.

I recognized the identification number before my brain finished processing the rest.