“See, I told you, she’s a fighter, not a baby maker.”
I wriggle my wrists, testing the bands. The rope is thin and not very well tied, so I easily snap them, pick up the bucket that was dropped on the floor, and swing it wide, hitting the man by the door in the side of the head, knocking him unconscious. I’m about to exit when three more men come in, all armed, followed by a fourth who is too well dressed to be from the Wasteland.
“I was told you were quite a handful,” the man says to me, as his guards secure my hands behind my back again, this time with rope infused with steel thread. It begins to dig into my flesh as I twist my wrists to test its strength. “So, what do I call you?”
I keep my mouth closed, staring past him at the courtyard beyond, trying to plan my escape. One of the guards standing behind me hits me hard in the back, causing me to collapse onto my knees.
“The man asked you a question,” he grunts.
“Meg,” I whisper, as I have no wind in my lungs. “My name is Meg.”
“Hello, Meg,” the well-dressed man says to me, as he bends down gently gripping my arm to help me to my feet. “My name is Artemis Webb.”
He holds onto me longer than necessary. He brushes the hair from my face, plucking out pieces of straw from my hair. I stare hard into his face, memorizing it. His eyes are deep green, almost emerald in color. His hair is sandy, slightly tousled, and just brushing the collar of his dress shirt. He appears to stand just under six foot, of slight build, but with hints of muscles tugging at the sleeves of his shirt. If I didn’t know he was leading a bunch of killers and kidnappers, I’d almost say he was attractive.
“Are you hungry?”
I nod in acknowledgement.
He waves for me to follow him, and escorts follow on my tail. We walk along the wide brick courtyard that is in immaculate condition, lined with doors not unlike the one I just left. A small fountain sits in the center, crystal clear water pouring from the decorative spout at the top. We seem to be walking towards the main house at the end of the courtyard where we climb some steps before reaching the large, glass-inlayed doors.
The interior of the entryway is brightly lit, with skylights lining the ceiling. Pale sandy terracotta tiles cover the floor, and the walls are covered in a pale yellow finish. Decorations are minimal, just a few plants and a small wooden table in the center of the room with a large glass vase filled with roses. We turn to the right and walk down a small hallway, passing by a study filled with books and a lavish dining room that has a long dining table lined with fine China.
“How many people have you sold to buy all this?” I comment.
The only response I receive is a kick in the back.
We enter the kitchen at the far end, but the guards stay in the hallway, while Artemis walks me over to a clothed barstool sitting in front of a large marble island. After removing eggs and what appears to be real butter from the refrigerator, he cooks them, along with some toast, then pours me a large glass of freshly squeezed orange juice. My restraints are removed so I can eat, which I do, slowly at first.
I’m unsure about how to interpret unexpected kindness from the man responsible for Quin’s death, although I have to suspect there’s some plan I have yet to hear about. Then my hunger takes over and I devour every bite.
As I work on my second helping, he walks over to the kitchen door, making sure it’s closed before coming up behind me. He’s almost right against my back, where I can feel his body heat, but he doesn’t touch me.
“I know who you are, Meg,” he whispers.
I put my fork slowly down onto the plate, but I don’t let it go.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I respond, as calmly as possible.
He gently brushes the hair off the back of my neck. My body tingles at his touch.
“I inspect everyone who comes to me, so of course I noticed the marks. The three dots you have here.” His finger gently rubs the spot just below my hairline. “I recognize them. You’re one of the four Antaean…soldiers built for fighting.”
I’m reminded that like Artemis, Devlan mentioned only four, yet Quin is number five. I wonder how many really survived the destruction of the dormitories.
I grip the fork tighter, readying myself to attack. He doesn’t move from his spot, but instead he continues to caress the back of my neck, to the point of annoyance.
“You’re a very valuable asset, Trea. You’re lucky that I found you before one of the cities’ Collectors did. Who knows what could’ve happened to you if they caught you.”
I think back to Devlan and the attack on my home.
I’m not sure if Artemis’ Collectors are any better than the cities’.
“What do you want?” I finally ask through clenched teeth.
“I want to help you, Trea.” He walks around the island removing my plate, glass, and fork, setting them into the sink.
“I don’t need your help.”
“Of course you do.” He leans over the counter staring hard into my eyes. “You just don’t know it yet.”
The door to the kitchen opens and the guards come in, binding my wrists together, and yanking me off of the stool. They propel me down the hallway, past the door we came through and to a small room at the back of
