Page 84 of Jump or Fall
The car stopped in a poorly lit area with a number of run-down buildings. Dawson opened the door and yanked her from the car.
“Don’t even think of running,” he hissed. “The enforcers are looking for a woman in handcuffs.”
The streets around them were empty, but that didn’t mean there weren’t eyes watching.
He took hold of her arm and led her toward a derelict building, its exterior cracked and weather-worn. The windows were black with grime, and the ground outside littered with trash. Her heart rate kicked up again. What was this place?
Once inside, she realized it was a façade.
The building was clean, with freshly painted walls and the floors that had recently been scrubbed. They marched her up a set of stairs to a heavy door with a hand scanner.
Dawson placed his hand on it and the door popped open. The room they entered was lined with monitors and desks. The screens displayed various parts of the city.
This was a Surveillance office.
The only person in the room was a man she didn’t recognize. He stood by a large desk, but he didn’t spare her a glance.
Dawson thrust her in front of the desk where the man was waiting and took a seat.
“You were always the best one,” Dawson started. “The smartest one. Haven’t you had a good life? You have a prestigious job and you get to do what you want. All I’ve ever asked of you is to obey. But no, I find you sneaking in late at night with a fucking override key.”
She stayed silent, clinging to thoughts of Gordon. The smoothness of his fingertips. His breath against her lips. The way he smiled. He would be her armor. If she died tonight, he would be her final thought.
“Wells, have you given a stripe yet?”
“No, sir.”
Wells…
Her eyes darted to the stranger. He appeared to be in his late twenties, with shoulder-length brown hair and a square jaw. He almost reminded her of a younger Gordon.
Could he be the one who started the fire on her first mission? How many people were named Wells?
Dawson followed her line of sight. “Something you like about him?”
She quickly looked away, but it was too late. He stood and pushed her face down onto the desk. With a swipe of his claw, the back of her shirt split open.
“Mara can be your first. She’s been quite the troublemaker recently.”
Footsteps approached, and Dawson’s grip tightened at the nape of her neck.
There was a softclick. “She barely even flinches now, so it’ll be easy.”
A warm hand pressed against her back, holding her skin taut before the sharp bite of the blade cut across in a swift stroke.
Breathe. Think of Gordon. Wrap yourself inhim.
“A clean cut and no hesitation,” Dawson remarked. Settling back into his seat, he kept a loose grip on her head, his fingertips resting at the base of her skull.
“Fuck her.”
“Sir—”
“You think you’re the first to arrange a fake claiming?” Dawson said, amused. “We know you already fucked that girl before. Now you can do it right. I can’t promise you’ll want to keep her after tonight, though.”
She searched frantically for an escape. Dawson patted her head. “I’m sure he’ll be gentle with you, doll. Just pretend it’s me.”
Wells hadn’t moved.
