Page 100 of Jump or Fall
Every day, Mara dreaded returning to the house, never knowing what kind of fucked-up surprise awaited her.
What made it worse, though, was that when Karena misbehaved, it was Mara who paid for it. Karena craved his attention, his touch—so he would deny her, choosing Mara instead for his daily fuck. A little skiff helped dull it all, but she couldn’t get hooked. Her work was too important.
The usual breakfast spread of fruits, cheeses, and bread sat mostly untouched on the counter. She grabbed a piece of flatbread, quicklyspreading some butter and rose petal jam on it before slipping out the door.
The morning was warm, but the towering trees of Division One provided plenty of shade. She walked to a quiet park nestled against the city wall, the distant crash of waves filling the silence as she ate. If only she could see the water on the other side.
Moments like this made her wonder why she hadn’t tried to run yet. Slipping through the gate out of One probably wouldn’t be that hard. Even if it meant a lifetime of looking over her shoulder, wouldn’t that still be better than living as Dawson’s slave?
Scarring her own face had crossed her mind more than once—but knowing him, he might just kill her rather than let her live in Eight.
She liked to believe her work at Hyperion was the key to her freedom, but a bitter voice in the back of her mind whispered that she’d simply accepted her fate.
Maybe dreams of revenge were just an excuse to stay complacent. The fear she knew was safer than the fear she didn’t.
As the heat climbed, she left the park and started back toward the house. She considered cutting through the shopping district but decided against it. People always stared.
Stepping inside, a rush of cool air hit her skin. She lingered under the vent in the entryway, letting it chase away the warmth clinging to her.
“We need to talk, doll.”
Goosebumps prickled across her arms.
Dawson stood by the stairs, arms crossed over his chest. Karena lingered behind him, eyes gleaming with satisfaction.
Mara slipped off her shoes and approached, keeping her gaze fixed on the floor.
“Karena,” he said smoothly, “there's an appointment for you at the salon. You’d better leave now, or you’ll be late.”
Silence stretched between them, but Karena didn’t argue. Mara heard the swish of her dress as she sauntered past and caught a faint whiff of her lilac perfume.
Mara stayed frozen, her heart pounding against her ribs. She didn’t dare to look up. Had Karena finally gotten her killed this time?
He took her hand and placed something firm against her palm.
A knife.
She yelped and yanked her hand away, sending the blade clattering onto the tile. Bile rose in her throat, every nerve in her body screaming to escape what was coming.
“That was found in your room,” Dawson said, his voice strangely calm. “Do you know how it got there?”
She swallowed hard. “Karena.”
“Why would my love do something like that?”
“You haven’t thrown me away yet.”
He took another step forward, and she felt herself shrinking under the weight of his presence.
Please let it be fast.
“Why should I believe it wasn’t you?”
Her mind raced. She needed to think, needed to convince him.
“I work with blades every day,” she said quickly. “I work with guns and lasers. If I wanted to sneak something back before you unlocked the drawer, I could’ve done it a hundred times by now.”
She flinched as he reached out—but instead of striking her, he pulled her into an embrace.
