Page 14 of Breaker

“Yes,” Rune says.

“Can it wait?” I hear Clyde ask, and how his words leave him, all cracked and battered, makes me turn my head to look at him.

“It’s part of the deal.” Rune strides across the room, taking a seat at the end of the bed.

“What deal?” I ask, trying to sit up, but Morgan’s hand lands on my chest, pushing me down, less gentle this time.

“It will take about a week for her system to be regulated after it’s removed,” Morgan tells Rune. “But it’s still possible even as early as tomorrow.”

I wave my hand. “Hello. After what’s removed?”

Rune glances at Clyde. “Hold her down.”

Alarm bells sound in my head, my heart kicking in my chest. I open my mouth to ask them what the fuck he means when I see the scalpel in Morgan’s hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask, but the question rings in the room like a high-pitched scream.

“The only way to remove it, is surgically,” Morgan says, and pulls my left arm out, placing my hand on his lap.

Understanding dawns on me.

“It’s only a year old.” Panic needles my cheeks, makes my skin flush and beads of sweat form. I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry, as Clyde grasps my wrist, his other hand holding my shoulder down, keeping my arm pinned to the bed.

This isn’t happening.

“You said it lasts years,” I shriek. “They couldn’t get me pregnant. It’s working just fine.”

“You said they didn’t touch you while you were there,” Rune says so coldly, my entire body goes still. His menacing stare returns to Morgan. “Take it out.”

My attempt to jerk my arm away is useless as Clyde pins my arm to the bed and shoves my shoulder harder into the mattress. Morgan pinches the thin rod under the skin of my inner arm, so it’s outlined under my flesh.

“But I don’t want it out.” I say, even as he presses the scalpel to my skin.

The wires in my head cross, malfunctioning. I am about to ask about a numbing injection, and why he’s not administering one, why they want the birth control implant removed, whenpain shoots like molten fire through my arm, cutting off all thoughts.

Words.

I scream. My arm jerks. Feet thrash. Rune grips my ankles pinning it to the bed. Clyde’s dark eyes collide with mine. Remorse clouds them and he looks away as his grip tightens.

The blade cuts deeper, digging under the flesh. Angling. Searching.

“Almost,” Morgan says, but his voice sounds muffled, like I’m underwater.

I’m drowning in pain. Not just the scalpel digging under my flesh, but from the betrayal.

“Clyde.” My voice is a whimper.

The scalpel twists. “Hold still, it slipped. I have to make the incision longer.”

I buck, my hips leaving the bed.

“Got it.”

I don’t know what happens next. I can’t see past my tears. Past the pain. The knowledge that I have so little control over my life or my body.

And the fact they sent me back to this.

He promised. They promised,I say over and over as Morgan sticks the needle through my flesh, sewing the small wound closed.

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