Page 50 of The Sin

“No,” he said calmly. “To be honest, I wish you’d never learned it. You may think otherwise, but I do believe that some truths are better left unknown.”

Roman had kept many truths from me, lies by omission, but I’d started to accept that was because of our circumstances, not because of his fundamental beliefs. “You sound like a Puritan now, with their story of Eve eating that apple from the tree of knowledge and the original sin.”

He shook his head, his gaze still locked with mine. “Knowledge isn’t good or bad, it’s just knowledge. What you do with it, however, that has the potential to lead to sin.”

“Or what youdon’tdo with it,” I snapped.

“I never said I was pure, or good, or any damn thing.” It wasn’t a growl, but it was low and intense. “All I’ve ever done is go with my gut, and it was already too late for you, Georga. By the time we met, you were eighteen, years beyond the age of fertility and viable eggs. This truth would only give you pain, and I wasn’t going to be the one to give it to you.”

That soccer-punched the wind from my judgment. I didn’t agree with him. I’d rather take all the pain than the not knowing. But this truthdidhurt, and I understood what Roman was saying. This truth hurt more than anything had ever hurt in my life. And the reason it hurt so very much, was that I couldn’t do anything about it. I couldn’t wind back time. I couldn’t fix Capra and demand they return this choice—this fundamental right—to me…or to any of the women of Capra.

Not all the women, I realized.

Not all the girls who had yet to reach puberty. A flame flickered to life in my rebellious heart, but I didn’t chase it, because twelve—twelve, twelve—that number knocked at my brain, rap-rap-rap, and the disturbing realization finally hit me.

“Amelia,” I gasped. “You said she’d just turned twelve when she was sold. You said twelve year old girls are a high commodity. She was sold for her healthy eggs.” As horrific as that was, there was more. There had to be. “But why? The Outerlanders trade for frozen eggs at Sector Five.”

“For the barons, it’s a symbol of power and greatness to conceive naturally.” He looked at me, his jaw working, his expression darkening even darker than the grim shadows cast about inside the tunnel. “They will give a fortune for a young, fertile girl.”

I had to process that for a moment to digest the full scale of what he meant. Amelia wasn’t just sold so she could grow up in the wilds and balance out their gender numbers. She wasn’t just sold for her healthy eggs. She’d been sold as a…as some kind of sex slave? At the age of twelve, because no one knew how long she’d remain fertile for.

Disgust twisted and cramped in my stomach.

In Capra, we were forced into marriages if we wanted to graduate. But there was always a choice. There were the balls and the opportunities to find someone you were attracted to, someone you could grow fond of, someone you didn’t absolutely despise. There was the choice Jenna had taken. You could decide to not graduate.

The choices weren’t great, and I’d once thought they were as much a deception as everything else, an illusion of choice rather than an actual choice.

But what had happened to Amelia? And other girls like her? That was something different. Unimaginable. The Smoke was every bit the vile, horrific thing of nightmares that I’d ever imagined.

That didn’t right the wrongs of Capra.

It just made this whole world exactly as Roman had put it.Fucked up.

And I knew there was more. Because in this world of ours, whenever you hit rock bottom, it just opened up another hole and dropped you deeper. Because Roman’s answer still hadn’t answered the question I’d asked.

I wet my lips. Swallowed down a gritty lump. “Why will the barons pay a fortune for a young, fertile girl? They trade for eggs. I saw children out there in their camp across the bridge. They raise their own girls.”

“Why do you think?” Roman barked.

I jerked back, startled at the rare ferocity in his voice.

“Sorry.” He pulled in a deep breath as he reached for me, placing a hand on my upper arm. “They don’t have the medical equipment or expertise for sperm sorting in the wilds. There are too few girls. There are always too few girls, and that doesn’t stop the barons from killing them. The girls are too young. Their bodies aren’t prepared. Many die during childbirth. They don’t stand a fucking chance.”

He sounded as ravaged as I felt. Violated. On Amelia’s behalf. On behalf of every girl who’d been sold to these savages, and every girl who’d been born outside the Eastern Coalition.

Silence hung between us, and it wasn’t calm or silent. It was a churning, turbulent roar. A violent, raging storm.

Tears pricked my eyes all over again. A different kind of sadness that started on the outside and bled its way inside.

I wiped the wetness away.

Roman saw the distress he’d caused in me and he closed his eyes for a long, long moment. He scrubbed his jaw, then he ran that hand through his hair, and then he opened his eyes and looked at me, and it was a look that swept into the thick of the storm raging between us and blew it away.

“Georga, I am so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” I said hoarsely. “Don’t you ever apologize to me again. You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve done nothing wrong. You are not to blame.”

Not for what happened to Amelia. Not for being unable to save her. Not for anything that had ever happened in my own crappy life. Not for his secrets or his omissions. Not for anything he’d done, thought or felt or believed, or for anything yet to come.

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