Page 6 of Us Dark Few

She turned to her left. A short prisoner with bright blue, braided hair and ivory skin eyed her. “You need to stand on that.” The blue-haired girl pointed to a yellow strip on the ground. “Motion sensor.”

Khalani shuffled to the line hastily. “Thanks,” she whispered, but the strange girl quickly faced forward, not acknowledging her further.

She kept one foot on the yellow line and peeked over the metal railing. A multitude of prisoners stood rigidly in place on each floor. On the other side of her block, a guard dressed in all black walked by each prisoner, giving them the once-over. His face was hidden from view, but his brutally toned physique was evident, like he could snap her neck in an instant.

Her heartbeat thundered in her chest. What if the guard assigned her to the surface? No prisoners were sent to the surface. Not in the last ten years. But rumors circled of plans to expand the Genesis dome. Khalani prayed she wouldn’t be alive when that day arrived. There were few deaths more painful than radiation sickness.

Khalani fidgeted back and forth, rubbing her fingers against the sleeves of her uniform. The sound of heavy footsteps grating against metal made her stiffen. She stared straight ahead as the guard’s large body entered her line of vision.

He was well over six feet tall. The long-sleeved black vest stretched tight across his broad muscular frame, which could’ve been chiseled from stone. He clutched an electric pad, marking it as he walked by each prisoner. The guard stopped before her, and she found a spec of courage to lift her head.

His eyes were the color of midnight.

She didn’t know eyes could be that black, as if the pupil bled out to the whole iris. She’d assumed all guards shaved their heads, but gossamer, jet-black hair swept over his forehead. The imposing guard looked a few years older than her, with smooth, golden skin and thick lashes framing his all-consuming eyes. But when their stares connected, Khalani went rigid at the aggression in his gaze.

His sharp jawline ticked as his cold eyes swept up and down her attire, distaste emanating from him as the putrid scent of her jumpsuit suffocated the air.

“Disgusting,” he muttered in revulsion, marking the electric pad.

Khalani’s mouth twisted, and her gaze flickered to the slim, silver badge below his left shoulder.Captain.

“Eyes forward, Kanes,” he commanded without looking up.

She turned forward with a snap.

It barely registered that he didn’t refer to her as Prisoner 317. Not that he needed to. The brand beneath her skin burned more than words and titles ever could.

“Everyone to your assignments!” the guard shouted, and the prisoners on her block started moving. Her eyes danced around frantically.

Where the hell was she supposed to go?

“Listen carefully.”

Her muscles clenched at the dark tone. She shifted slightly, and the guard stepped close. Too close. His body completely dwarfed hers, dominating the space, nearly suffocating the air around her.

“Cell Block 7 is your home now. You are facing the consequences of your actions, and if you don’t want your life here to be a living hell, then you do everything I tell you. Understand?” The guard watched her intently, a threatening shadow passing between his eyes which were laser-focused on her.

No weapons were discernible.

That was scarier for some reason. His stoic, detached energy alone made her want to return to her cell.

“Y-Yes.” She cleared her throat, forcing her terror away to properly function.

“You will report to Marcela in the north-end tunnels every morning. You’ll work half a day there and then proceed to the food hall with the other prisoners. This will be the only meal of the day, no loitering around. Afterward, you’ll report to George in the South A-Wing. He’ll give you your afternoon assignment.”

She nodded to herself, mouthing his words, trying to memorize everything he said. The slightest weight lifted from her chest. She wasn’t assigned any work on the dome.

Not yet.

“Following your afternoon shift,” he continued irritably, “you get a one-hour break in the pit. After that, return to your cell for the nightly roll call. If you’re late, I will know, and you won’t like what happens as punishment.” His eyebrows lowered in an unnerving, “I eat small children for breakfast” type of way.

“You got me, Kanes?”

“Yes,” her voice managed to remain steady.

“Good. There is absolutely no fighting with other prisoners. If you have a problem with another inmate, fix it in the pit. Don’t come to me with issues because I don’t have time to deal with your personal problems.”

She frowned, about to ask what the pit was, but he continued speaking,

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