Page 18 of Twins for the Barbarians

“What are you doing out here, anyway?” Kharo asks, cutting in, trying to stall as his hand travels slowly down my thigh. He’s trying to get to the gun without being noticed. I hold my breath, shivers running along my spine as I try to ascertain who’s more trigger-happy among these pricks and more likely to shoot first. “There isn’t a single settlement within a mile, at least.”

“Oh, our good friend Pan warned us you’d be coming,” the first marauder says, a grin slitting his red face. “You’d have to be idiots to think traveling merchants simply make their way across our land unaccompanied.”

“He was a decoy,” Helios concludes. “He’s your scout. You send him ahead, and he signals you if he comes across potential victims?”

“That’s what those popping noises were,” I mumble. “Pan was signaling them.”

“He’s been following you for miles,” the second mercenary says while the others get uncomfortably close to our buggy. “Granted, that little engine he fitted on his cart won’t go as fast as your ride, but it got him close enough to see that you were following this road. And so, here we are.”

I shake my head slowly. “I should’ve let that fucker starve.”

“No, I should’ve slit his throat,” Kharo replies.

“You’re not taking our woman,” Helios announces. “She is our mate.”

“Again, look around you, buddy. Have you forgotten where you are?” the first mercenary exclaims, throwing his head back with a mocking laugh.

“You don’t have a choice,” a third guy says. “Hand her over.”

I scream from the bottom of my lungs as I’m yanked out of the back seat, their grubby, filthy hands grabbing me from basically everywhere, but the mercenaries train all of their weapons on my men and on Kingo. They’re forced to watch helplessly as I’m taken to their all-terrain vehicle, kicking and snarling and squirming in a desperate attempt to free myself.

Before I can catch my breath, I’m taken away.

Helios, Kharo, and Kingo are left behind, black with rage as red dust rises on our trail.

Horror and dread take over. I’m shaking like a leaf, stuffed in the back seat as one of the marauders binds my hands and feet with rope. I try to wriggle free, but to no avail.

“Oh, we’re going to have a lot of fun with this one,” the first guy laughs as he pushes the pedal to the metal, the buggy roaring furiously along the dry road.

“I’m not going to your breeding center, you creepy fucks!” I shoot back.

“We’re not taking you to the breeding center. You’re going to be our personal breeder,” he says. We’re traditionalists in this clan, and nobody in Diamond City will dare cross us. We’ve got influence.”

10

Alicia

Ilose track of time in heat and despair as I try to figure a way out of this mess. I’m not sure there is one. Helios and Kharo won’t stop until they get me back, but I fear it’ll be too late by the time they do find me. These men are determined to use me to their liking. Consent isn’t even a thing with these beasts. I’m going to be sick.

But I need to stay strong. I need to keep calm and analyze this situation carefully.

Whatever happens next, I have to be one step ahead of it and prepared. Terror grips me tightly by the throat, my heart pounding out of my chest. It’s hard to focus, it’s hard to keep a clear head, yet somehow I manage to study my enemy: laser guns on their belts, knives aplenty. One knife is close enough for me to grab, but a few seconds’ worth of distraction would make such a mission a lot easier.

Beside me, the first mercenary says, grinning, “Man, I didn’t think our day would be so lucky.”

The guy behind the wheel laughs. “When Pan signaled us, he didn’t mention the precious cargo those Fire Tribe fuckers were carrying. I mean, what were they thinking, bringing her here?”

“We’re investigating the source of the plague,” I tell them, trying to buy myself some time and hopefully keep their attention away from my fingers slowly inching toward a sheathed knife. “We were going to Red Rock.”

“Why would you do that?” the first marauder asks, raising a doubtful eyebrow.

“Because we have growing suspicions that the plague was lab-made and not a natural occurrence,” I say.

Silence falls among them for a while. The wheels in my head keep turning, but I need to make sure I’m catching their interest.

“Why would anyone do that? It meant the end of our civilization. It’s every man for himself now, literally,” the driver replies, shaking his head.

“That’s why we’re investigating. We’re trying to figure that out. But General Sharuk’s father had his suspicions. He wrote them down in his files. Elian Daron was going to share his findings when he was assassinated,” I say. “Can’t you see how the plague and the war have turned you against one another? Someone had something to gain from this. I can tell you for a fact that my friend studied the viral strains we’ve come across. She’s certain it was engineered, given how the disease behaves.”

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