Page 7 of Alien Protector's Mate

Jade turned, trying not to show her surprise. “Now? But… dinner’s almost ready…”

“Did I ask about dinner?” Mr. Morgan snarled, his face turning red like it always did when he was mad. “Isaidget your coat. Now.”

Jade glanced at Mrs. Morgan, but the older woman’s face was a mask of indifference. “You heard him,” she said, her voice cold. “Go on, make yourself useful for once.”

She tried to keep her face as neutral as possible as she skirted around the kitchen and retrieved her worn jacket from the hook on the back of the door. Where were they going? Her foster father had never taken her out before, not even when she was a kid.

As she followed Mr. Morgan to the door, Mrs. Morgan’s voice called after them. “Maybe now we’ll see a return on our investment.”

A chill rolled down Jade’s spine. A return? What did that mean? But she knew better than to ask, especially with the tight set of Mr. Morgan’s shoulders. She kept quiet as they left the grotty apartment building and stepped out into the cool evening air. Jade cast one last glance at the rundown apartment and hurried down the street after Mr. Morgan.

He didn’t say one word to her, instead walking straight to the metro station three streets away and purchasing two tickets. She moved so she could see what destination he was getting for their tickets, hoping to get a clue as to where they were going, but frowned when he brought two of the cheapest zone tickets. So, they weren’t going far then, just within the same zone as they lived in. Which was huge… so if it was at the other side, she definitely didn’t want to walk that far.

They made it down to the platform, Mr. Morgan snarling at her to keep up, just as the train rumbled to a stop. Its engine grumbled tiredly as they boarded. She chose a seat near the window, wanting to keep her distance. They pulled away from the platform, and her nerves formed into a hard knot it the pit of her stomach.

She slid a glance sideways, but the tense set of Mr. Morgan’s jaw and the smell of alcohol on his breath reminded her to stay silent. She clenched her hands in her lap, her nails digging into her palms as she tried to calm her racing thoughts.

Wherever they were going, she knew one thing for certain. No change in her life had ever been for the better.

3

She’d never been this far into the city.

Jade sat rigidly in her seat as the train rattled along tracks that definitely needed repair work, her eyes darting from the passing scenery to her foster father’s grim profile. The sharp stink of stale cigarettes, cheap whiskey, and urine permeated the carriage’s interior, making her stomach churn.

Her eyes widened at the towering buildings and bright lights as they passed by. She couldn’t remember ever traveling beyond their neighborhood, and the contrast was exhilarating and terrifying all at the same time. She got as close to the window as possible without pressing her nose against it. Who knew what had been smeared on the inside of the glass in the past? She wasn’t going to risk it.

But then she forgot all about that as she looked at the neon signs flickering in shop windows, their garish colors reflecting off the rain-slicked streets. Tiny people hurried along the sidewalks below, their faces hidden beneath umbrellas or the upturned collars of their coats.

Her gaze lingered on a young couple walking hand in hand and laughing as they dodged the puddles until the man turned and pulled the woman against him. She threw her arms around his shoulders. Even though Jade couldn’t see their faces, the movement and their body language spoke volumes. A pang of longing shot through her. What would it be like to have someone look at her with affection instead of contempt?

“Stop gawking like a fucking idiot,” Mr. Morgan growled, his words slightly slurred. “Anyone would think you’d never seen a city before.”

She quickly sat back in her seat, staring down at her lap. It didn’t matter that they were in public. Mr. Morgan was just as likely to lash out here as he was in the privacy of their own home.

“Sorry,” she murmured, her voice barely audible over the sound of the carriage on the tracks. “I’ve never been to this part of the city before.”

“No reason you would’ve been.” He snorted, and she shrank further into her seat. “Nothing here for a nobody like you.”

The words stung, but she’d learned long ago to hide her reactions. She kept her face carefully neutral. If there was nothing here for her, why were they here now?

“Where are we going?”

Mr. Morgan’s hands tightened on the metal bar by his seat. “Didn’t I tell you to keep quiet? You’ll find out when we get there.”

She fell silent again and tried to focus on the city around them without him noticing and berating her again. They’d passed through the area with the shops, and this area looked more industrial. The skyscrapers had given way to squat, utilitarian buildings, and the sidewalks were nearly empty. Only a few pedestrians hurried along with their heads down.

“This is our stop,” Mr. Morgan grunted, heaving himself to his feet and disembarking as the train pulled into the nextstation. He didn’t bother to check that she was following him, but then she realized he didn’t need to. Where else would she go?

The Morgans had been her family since she and Jared had been sent to them when they were tiny. Even though she was over twenty-one now, they’d managed to get her registered as a dependent so the payments didn’t stop.Unable to keep up with basic-level schooling. Unable to live alone…She’d seen the reports that had sealed her fate and kept them in control of her life.

Those reports couldn’t have been further from the truth. She’d passed all her basic schooling thanks to the public library two blocks away, not that she’d been able to print out her certificates and take them home. That wouldn’t have done her any good anyway because she hadn’t even been able to register in her own name in case the Morgans found out what she was doing. It would blow apart their carefully constructed lie about her inabilities, and they’d lose their care payments for her.

She trudged after Mr. Morgan, hunching her shoulders as it began to rain. Her jacket was thin and old, doing nothing to protect her from the wind and the rain, but she shoved her hands in her pockets anyway. Tucked away in the corner was the only thing of value she had—her twin’s old ID that she’d kept when they’d gotten rid of everything else of his. It was worn and old now, the photo showing him when he was five. The ident-strip would have been deactivated when the Morgans had registered his death, but she kept it anyway.

“Keep up, girl,” Mr. Morgan grunted as they turned the corner.

Her blood ran cold as she caught sight of a sign at the other end of the street.

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