Page 45 of Brutal Savior

I shake my head, and she sighs.

“It’s electrified, and there are armed guards every few feet. Nothing gets in or out. And even if you manage to bribe your way into a truck or something, you can’t remove the tracker. They’ll find you. I know you’ll have to try anyway, we all do, but it’s honestly useless. The sooner you accept your life is here now and focus on what you can do that makes you happy, the better.”

Only one word jumps out. Tracker. “I don’t have a tracker.”

“We all do. In the back of your neck. They will have injected it while you were out.”

Don’t worry. It’s just another test.

Then a prick at the back of my neck.

I’d thought it strange at the time but hadn’t had the brainpower to focus on it with all the other drama happening around me.

He lied to me.

Jacob lied to me.

I don’t know why it hurts as much as it does. He’s keeping me captive. Using me as a fucking sex toy. But part of me—a stupid, naive part—at least thought I could trust him to tell me the truth. But no. He’s a liar, and I’m an idiot.

I won’t cry. I won’t cry, goddamn it.

The concerned looks on everyone’s faces feel like hot brands against my skin. I need to get out of here. I’m shaking with the effort of holding back the stupid tears.

I down the rest of my drink when a very, very bad idea occurs to me. It’ll cost me—I can almost feel Jacob’s hand crashing into my ass—but it’ll be worth every fucking bruise.

If petty revenge is all I can get against the lying bastard, I’ll take it.

I stand, steadier on my feet than I have any right to be with the way the world is lurching around me, and walk to the door. Eve and Annie chase after me. I bang on the door and shout to the men I know are waiting outside. “Hey! Hey, it’s Quinn. I want to go home. I’m tired.”

Chapter Seventeen

Jacob

The applause swells aroundme, and adrenaline rushes in my blood as guests get to their feet. I’ve never been one to show off, but a standing ovation feels bloody good.

I took a risk with this speech. I’m well-known for my beliefs on life extension technology, but previously, I’ve kept my public announcements in the realm people are comfortable with. The chance of living to a healthy 140 years? Most people don’t take issue with that.

This time, I spoke about my true passion—solving the aging process altogether by treating it as the disease it truly is. I was worried the crowd would dismiss me as a quack, like when Aubrey de Gray said the first person to live to one thousand might already be sixty. But technology has moved on since then, and so have people’s attitudes.

They fucking loved it.

Seb claps me on my back as I return to our VIP table, applause still ringing. The ballroom is decorated all Grecian, white marblepillars and vines everywhere. Statues of curvy birds with their tits out pouring wine. Funny how the difference between art and porn is the price.

There are at least three-hundred people here, all the most promising biotech students from across the US and overseas. Tickets can’t be bought; they’re offered based on ability. It’s sponsored by the best companies in the industry, all aiming to bring new blood into their ranks.

I wonder if any of the men here will be future Brothers.

The thought isn’t a happy one, and it follows me as the applause dies down. I struggled with my decision to join the Brotherhood and still wonder if I made the right call. Most Brothers join when they’re young and haven’t seen much of the grim, dirty side of the world.

The secrecy, rituals, and ruthlessness of the Brotherhood make it eerily similar to some of the organizations I worked to dismantle.

I shake off the thought and let myself enjoy the moment. Seb hands me a glass of champagne, then watches, face dropping, as I down it in two big swigs. I never drink before a speech, and my nerves have been firing off like crazy all day. I need to settle myself down.

“Jesus, that was Louis Roederer Cristal. You’re meant to savor it.”

“I did. It was nice. Let’s grab a beer.” He rolls his eyes as I signal the waiter. “Anything from Quinn?”

He hands my phone back to me. “Nothing, though Gabriel messaged to say they dropped her back to your place. He said she looked exhausted, and Eve said she hit the drink pretty hard. Can’t really blame her.”

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