Enclave

As the ringing in my ears subsided, I distinguished voices and then words. “Who gets her?” someone demanded.

A high, thin voice answered, “I do. I brought her down. I own her.”

A different male spoke, low and mocking. “Good work, cub. But you wouldn’t know what to do with her.”

Instinctively, I knew I should fear the owner of that voice, even as he knelt beside me. He pulled my blindfold off and left me to recoil at the sight of him. His whole face had been carved up, not from battle like Fade’s scars, but in a purposeful mutilation. The lines bit deep, and he’d painted them red as blood; they striped his skin in savagery. The marks shocked me, maybe because I didn’t understand their purpose.

His eyes reflected the firelight; they were pale as rainwater and flames danced in their depths. “So you’re awake. Where do you come from that you fight like a Wolf?”

He snatched the tie from my hair, but unlike when Fade did it, it wasn’t a pleasant shock. It was invasive, and when he twisted his hand in my hair, it hurt. He turned my face side to side, inspecting me, and pure fear slithered through me at that gesture. Those light eyes examined me as if I were a strange creature.

I tried to tell him with my eyes that he didn’t want to do this, that he would be sorry before we finished this story, but I didn’t think it worked. In response to my look, he laughed. As I lay there, bound and helpless, I knew only one thing: I’d die first. I hadn’t fought my way out of the tunnels to wind up like this. He pulled the cloth from my mouth, just enough to let me answer.

“Underground,” I bit out.

Interest kindled in his savage features. He whispered, “Then you’re worth something, more than just a Breeder. Later, I want you to remember how I saved you.” He straightened and spoke loud enough for his Wolves to hear the order, this time. “Take her and clean her up. I’ll break her in personally later.”

Hands grabbed me and towed me away. I felt each seam and divot in the floor; they would leave bruises. The place flowed over me in glimpses. I had the impression of immense space and a tall ceiling as I jolted along. Then movement stopped. My head hit the ground again.

Someone pulled me to my feet and then knelt to untie my ankles. That person was smart enough to do it from behind, or I’d have certainly broken his or her neck with a kick. Twisting round to peer over my shoulder sent pain shooting through my skull, but I managed to see it was a girl. She was small and thin, liberally covered in bruises. Some were days old; others looked fresh. She didn’t wear any marks, so I guessed gangers only gave such status to the males.

She left my hands tied. Smart girl. Well, relatively. She couldn’t be too smart if she took those bruises without complaining, but as I knew, you got used to anything. If she had been born here, among the gangers, she probably didn’t question that this was how things ought to be. I was having a hard time adjusting my worldview too.

With complete indifference, she left the cloth in my mouth and went to work on me with a knife. My clothes fell away in ragged strips and then she washed me like I was a piece of junk she was trying to make ready for use. Twisting didn’t do any good; she only moved closer and completed the job.

Then she dressed me in a long, ragged shirt like she wore. It showed way more of my legs than I liked, and she didn’t give me anything to wear underneath. I supposed that was the point. Fear tried to dilute my anger, but I didn’t let it. Instinctively I understood the purpose of this ritual. They took away my things; they reduced me in rank to one of their cowering, subservient females. But they could never take away the marks on my arms. I’d earned them.

The strong survive, I told myself. Though it was a Hunter tenet, if anything could get me out of this, it was the resolve I’d learned in training. No matter how many times a bigger brat knocked me down in class, I got back up. I fought harder. I learned a new trick, or a new throw. Except in that match against Crane, I’d never been defeated.

Now I regretted not laying into those brats with everything I had, but it was too late to change my circumstances. I couldn’t let panic paralyze me. This might be a new world, but I could survive it. I would.

Finally, she untied the strip of fabric from around my face. I spat on the ground to remove the stale, fuzzy taste. I studied her face. She might’ve been pretty if she wasn’t so beaten down. The poor thing wouldn’t even meet my eyes.

“I’m Deuce,” I said. “And you are?”

She glanced up in surprise, as if she hadn’t known I could talk. “Tegan.”

“What did they do with my friend?”

“You have your own problems.”

That made me smile. She stared at me like I was crazy. “I’m aware. But where is he? Is he alive?”

“For now. They’re going to hunt him later.”

My blood chilled. “What does that mean?”

“They’ll cut him and give him a short head start. Then the Wolves will give chase, following his blood trail. When they find him, they’ll kill him.”

The word “Wolves” was unfamiliar to me, but I guessed it was the name these gangers used for themselves. I didn’t doubt Tegan was telling the truth. Somehow I managed to conceal my desperation.

“And what’s going to happen to me?”

“Stalker’s claimed you,” she said with a shrug. “So I guess you belong to him until he gets tired of you. Usually, you’d end up with the Wolf who brought you in. Stalker doesn’t often exercise his rights.”

So it meant something when he’d said, Later I want you to remember how I saved you. Was I supposed to be grateful for his favor? Not likely.

“And then?”

“When Stalker’s finished, they’ll probably fight for you. You’re new.”

“But nobody wants to fight Stalker?”

I did. One on one, I had my doubts he could beat me, even with this lump on my head. If he didn’t hide behind greater numbers, they never would’ve taken us in the first place. If only I hadn’t paused over the idea of fighting brats. If only we’d run. But there was no use in treading over lost ground.

“They stopped trying,” Tegan said. “You can’t win.”

Clash

My shoulders burned.

Since Stalker hadn’t given her any instructions, beyond cleaning me up, Tegan didn’t know what to do with me. So we waited. Right now the Wolves were occupied with the deathsport part of the evening, and if I didn’t find some way to prevent it, Fade would die, bloody and alone. Because he’d lied for me.

I didn’t want him to die for me.

We sat by the fire. The enormous building was mostly empty, and rain drummed on the roof. I craned my neck looking for anything I could use to untie my wrists. Nothing behind me that I could see. Ahead I focused on a sliver of glass. It would cut my fingertips, but it would slice through the cords as well.

I inched forward. Tegan didn’t seem to be paying me any attention. The licking flames held her eyes; I hoped they would continue to until I finished my work.

My heart thudded in my ears. It took ages but I eventually set my fingertip on the shard. I shifted to cover the small scrape it made as I raked it behind me. Time pressed on me, weighty and inescapable, while I sawed.

Blood trickled over my fingertips, so I knew I’d cut myself, but I couldn’t tell how bad it was. It slicked my hands and let me slip free at last of the loosened bonds.

When Tegan spoke, it surprised me. “Have you gotten free yet?”

I froze. “If you knew what I was doing, why didn’t you stop me?”

“That’s not my job,” she said with a glimmer of spirit. “He told me to clean you up. That’s all. They should’ve left some guards, but they’re stupid and they only saw a weak female.”