Page 27 of The Sin

“Politics in The Smoke is complicated.”

“I have time.”

“I don’t.” He drained his coffee and stood. “We’ll talk about this tonight, okay? I still need to shower and if I miss the train, it’s a long hike back to town.”

“Give it to me in a couple of sentences,” I insisted. “Seriously, you can’t just mention Blood Throat gangs and then throw me out on the streets. I need to know what I’m walking into.”

“If you do as I asked and stay in this area, you won’t be walking into trouble. The Protectorate is established here in Gardens. It’s a pretty safe zone.”

The Protectorate? My mind exploded. “Roman!”

His brow lowered, then he checked his watch and sighed. “I guess I can skip my shower.”

I rolled from the upholstered arm onto the seat of the couch to get comfortable. I didn’t feel bad about his shower. Not at all. I had Blood Throats to contend with.

He crossed the room to open a wardrobe built into the wall beside the bed. I’d assumed it was a linen closet, and there were towels and bedding on some of the shelves, but the other shelves and the hanging rack was filled with clothes. It was a reminder to me that this was Roman’s home…away from home, or whatever.

“The political structure in The Smoke is meant to mimic that of Capra,” he said as he pulled a pair of warden black cargo pants from a hanger. “Capra has the council and the Guard. The Smoke has The Protectorate and Protectors. That works well in Capra, but The Smoke is a different kind of animal and along the way, the power here devolved.”

I was listening, but my gaze softened and a sigh expelled through me as he stripped his t-shirt. Muscle rippled across his broad chest.

“Unions quickly formed in The Smelt and The Break.” He glanced at me. “The Smelt is the district where all the heavy industry is located, and The Break has the factories.”

“Unions?”

“It doesn’t matter.” He turned his back to me and pulled on his cargo pants. “The union leaders took absolute power and those districts are now run by what we call The Families, the Hanson family in The Smelt and the Grabough family in The Break. The Packing District, of course, has the Blood Throats.”

“Are they also a family?”

He shook his head. “They started out as smaller street gangs and, over time, merged into the Blood Throats.”

“This all sounds worse than the Outerlands.”

“It’s not,” he said, dead serious. “That’s how bad the wild is.”

He left me to digest that as he disappeared into the bathroom.

I couldn’t really wrap my head around everything he’d said, but one thing was crystal clear. The Smoke sounded as horrific as I’d grown up believing.

Not everything was a lie.

When Roman reappeared, he continued, “The Protectorate have the firepower and the means to wrestle back control, but they’re only interested in their own agenda. So long as The Families and the Blood Throats maintain order in their districts and keep The Smoke functioning, everyone is happy with the status quo.”

Not everyone, I realized by the acerbic edge to his tone. I didn’t call him out on it, though. I wasn’t happy about anything I’d heard so far, either.

He turned from me to grab a top from the wardrobe and finished dressing, pulling on his coat before he walked up to me. “And now, I really must go.”

I smiled sweetly. “Just one more thing.”

His jaw squared with impatience.

“I was hoping to track down Jenna.” At the blank look on his face, I elaborated. “Jenna Simmons. The girl who didn’t graduate? The guards dragged her out the hall.”

“Right, you’ve mentioned her before.”

I hooked a brow on him. “I begged you to tell me what you’d done with her.”

“Nothing,” he said. “Wardens don’t handle Capra expulsions.”

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