Page 71 of The Sin

There was something in her tone, something patronizing and maybe even condescending, that bristled my spine. I could be wrong, but it felt like she was giving me the chance to confess I’d made up some ludicrous story, an opportunity to change my mind.

What the hell?

“I’ve been outside the walls,” I said defensively. “I’ve seen across the bridge to the Outerlands, and it isn’t dead. It isn’t empty. I’ve been to The Smoke.”

She raised a single finger to stop me. “I’m not doubting you. The purpose of this meeting…well, I was curious to meet you. But I’m also looking for clarity, to make sure nothing has been misunderstood or…misinterpreted.” She dropped that finger to tap the dossier. “Do you know what this is?”Tap. Tap. Tap.“This is a smoking gun. It’s incumbent upon us to cross-check the facts and make sure we have it right before we pull the trigger.”

She was just being careful, of course she was.

“Shall we proceed?” She opened the dossier and dropped her gaze, skimming over what I assumed was Rose’s report. “Let’s start with Sector Five. You say you hitched a ride on your husband’s truck without his knowledge.”

“He did discover me in the parking garage at Sector Five, but he has no idea I left the garage at any point,” I reiterated, just to make it absolutely clear. “So far as he’s aware, I don’t even know that I was ever outside of Capra. He turned me over to the Guard at the wall, and I’ve been under reprimand for the past two weeks.”

She studied me. “I’m surprised the Guard was lenient with you.”

“Roman is a warden.”

“I’m well aware that your husband is a warden,” she said.

And if she’d let me finish, I’d get to the point. “Wardens prefer to keep Capra and the council out of warden affairs, and as Roman’s wife, I’m considered warden business.”

“That’s fortunate.”

“Very fortunate,” I agreed.

Her gaze lowered to read from the dossier, and we moved on. She wanted to hear everything from me again, in my own words, not Rose’s.

Occasionally she interrupted with questions. Such as, “You never crossed the bridge. Everything you say about the Outerlands and these barons is hearsay?”

“Not just hearsay from The Smoke,” I said. “This came from a warden at Sector Five. He approached me when he thought I was going to cross the bridge.”

I’d forgotten about the incident when I’d spoken to Rose this morning, but I added it now, hoping it leant weight to my so-called sketchy facts. Roman had actually been out there, in the wilds. That wasn’t hearsay.

“People from The Smoke are free to leave the Eastern Coalition,” I told her. “The wardens take it upon themselves to warn anyone about the conditions in the Outerlands before they cross.”

“But it’s still just word of mouth,” Geneva insisted. “Speculation.”

“I suppose.” I shrugged. If that’s what she wanted to believe, so be it. I was not bringing Roman into this for validation.

I remembered the two men who’d circled me as I’d approached the bridge. “I did have an encounter with Outerlanders. Not barons, I don’t think, but the men were terrifying. There was something savage about them. They circled in on me. It felt like they were predators, and I was the prey. After that, it wasn’t hard to believe everything I’d heard about the wild.”

After that, I explained in as much detail as I could about the sperm sorting. “The Eastern Coalition has a medical process that allows them to override natural gender selection. They’ve found a way to improve the odds of a baby being born female. They use it in The Smoke. That’s why there are so many women there. As many women as there are men, if not more. There are so, so many people there. Women are allowed to have children. They’re encouraged to have as many as they want.”

I also went into more detail about conditions in The Smoke than I’d given Rose. “They don’t have electricity at night. No lights. No heating. There are severe shortages, apparently. The Protectorate is established in Gardens. That’s fairly safe and pleasant. The rest of The Smoke is controlled by crime families and the Blood Throats.”

Geneva’s brow hiked. “Blood Throats?”

“They’re a street gang. A bloody, brutal gang. I watched them beat a man up in broad daylight.”

When I got to the grand finale, thepièce de résistance, my voice became shaky. “The eggs we use for our IVF treatments don’t come from some frozen supply from before. That’s a lie. It’s all lies. Our eggs don’t start off rotten.”

I had to take a breath, swallow down a lump of grit before continuing. “We are healthy for the first couple of years, until we reach the age of fourteen, maybe a few more months more. That’s where Capra gets its supply of eggs from, harvested from young girls in The Smoke. It could be harvested from us. Itshouldbe harvested fromus. There’s no reason we couldn’t have children of our flesh and blood. That’s what Capra has taken from us.”

“Not Capra,” Geneva said. “The council.”

I nodded fervently. “That’s what the council has denied us.”

We shared a look, a dark, vengeful look, and in that moment I knew, IknewGeneva and the Sisterhood would make this right. Not for me. Not for us. It was too late for that. We were fighting for the next generation of daughters.

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