Page 19 of Free Beast Mate

I untied the back of my collar, then pulled down the zipper.

Seconds passed in silence.

John zipped up my dress.

I turned back around, heat warming my cheeks.

Amoris sat there, not really looking at me, but through me. I felt his gaze pierce my soul. “I killed him for you,” he said.

My eyes widened.

“And I’ll kill again. Please, do carry on with your work.” He snapped his head to the bathroom. “I gotta wash myself.” And then he was off. The sound of running water came from the bathroom next.

I looked up at John. “That’s it?”

“Let’s clean this place.”

“Right. Okay. Um, well, thanks for helping out.”

He rested the shotgun against the doorjamb, walked around, mumbling curses, then threw his hands in the air. “Where the fuck do I start?”

“John, don’t curse.”

He shook his head.

“We hose it down,” I said. “It’ll wash away into the drain by your foot.”

* * *

Johnand I hosed the place down, and by the time we finished, half my work day had passed. Amoris stayed in the bathroom the entire time. I wondered if he’d drowned in the shower. Probably not, but he didn’t come out until we exited and sealed both doors. Behind the desk, John tapped a bunch of buttons, lines, and whatevers on the hologram screen. The voice commands from the recording camera pointed to the entry started scrambling the audio as he placed various riggers into the holograms. He was tampering with evidence or something like it. I didn’t know why.

I almost didn’t ask. Almost. “Why are you doing this?”

“Down here, people are starving. The garbage disposal system is clogged, and the sewer system has been degrading for years now. In Sector Seven, there are three hundred people in isolation.”

“Oh God. Not again.”

John peeled his gaze from the screen and gave me his attention. “Again?”

“Tom won’t allow disease to catch around here. He orders the removal of the sick ones. We don’t have medicine, or at least not enough for everyone, so he can’t take any chances.”

John showed no signs of remorse or concern. He was simply inquiring, and I was answering.

“If there are ten vials of medicine, who would get them?” he asked.

“Breeders. Always breeders. At least one boy and the rest for his chosen stock of girls.”

“And you are not a breeder.”

“No. I was born with one leg shorter than the other. It’s an inch shorter, but when I walk… you can tell.”

“I hadn’t noticed.”

“The dress hides the limp. And I learned how to walk as normal people do.”

“You’re still normal, you know.”

I fiddled with my supplies, arranging the different spray bottles. “Eh, to each their own. What do I tell Tom? About Adam.”

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