Page 10 of Obliterated
“What are you doing out here, Joyeus?” the dark Watcher says. “Didn’t find enough poor souls to snatch inside? Or did you get bored counting your coin?”
She lets out a laugh too high, too polished. “Ah, Max. Good to see you back in one piece. Didn’t Commander Roe let you have a single day off after that spectacular little show in the Pit last night? If you’re ever low on funds, the offer still stands, you know. People would pay a hefty sum just for a taste of you.”
He only raises a brow. Silent. Unbothered. Dangerous. The dark-haired woman next to him snickers at his defiance.
“Well hello, Tass,” the newcomer purrs, turning her sharp smile on her. “I saw you last night in my den. Losing yourself quite nicely, weren’t you?”
The warrior-woman tenses, muttering something sharp under her breath, words I can’t catch.
“Just hobble along, you old goat,” Max growls, shoulders tensing. “Leave her the fuck alone.”
“Careful, Max.” Joyeus’ voice softens. “You wouldn’t want to insult a member of the Nine, would you? Or are you really that desperate to crawl back into the Pit the second you’ve won your freedom?”
The corner of his mouth curls, slow and lethal. “Watch me.”
And shit, the way he says it, the weight in those two words… My blood runs cold and hot at the same time.
Like he heard my shaky inhale, that dangerous gaze cuts to me. Just for a second—but enough. Enough for the silk-drapedwoman, Joyeus, whoever the hell she is, to notice where he’s looking. To notice me.
Her eyes sharpen, then widen in something that looks far too much like excitement.
“Well… what do we have here? I might get lucky after all.”
She steps forward, silk dragging against the dock planks, and my stomach drops. Instinctively, my eyes dart to the Watcher named Max, like he’s safer than her, like he isn’t the kind of man who held me by the throat moments ago.
I backpedal, panic clawing up my chest, but the sole of my flip-flop skims the dock’s edge. Saltwater churns below, dark and unforgiving, and I freeze so I don’t tumble in.I can’t fucking swim.
She stops right in front of me, smiling like a knife. The mother and child who’d been ahead of me seize the chance, scurrying over the dock into the checkpoint building, leaving me alone in her sights.
Her cold gaze drags over me, slow and deliberate. From my filthy, unruly hair to my dirt-streaked face to the blood on my toes.
“Where are your papers?” she demands, her voice all silk and steel.
“I—I don’t have them,” I stammer, throat dry. “My father… My father got attacked on the boat by a Walker. He died.” My head jerks toward the ship, pulse thundering from the nerves.
“No papers means no entrance.” The warrior-woman, Tass, cuts in as she steps closer, tone sharp. “Did you know that?” Then she looks over her shoulder, straight at Max. “Can we check the body for the papers?”
He’s closer now. Watching me intently, too intently, and something shifts in that dark gaze as he tilts his head just slightly. His voice comes out rough, dismissive. “No need. They already hauled it away, but I saw the papers when I checked thebody before finding the Walker. It’s true, there was something about a son on it.”
Her eyes flick between us, assessing. “Really?”
I blink at him, but try to hide my surprise. Not knowing if he just signed my death sentence. Because there are no papers, at least none that mention me. And they also didn’t get rid of the body. I saw them dragging crates and cargo off that ship, but not a dead man who would have my supposed paperwork on him.
No boarding papers means no entrance. No entrance means I’m hauled straight back onto that boat. But now Max said that the body was my dad’s and he checked the paperwork… I can play my minor card.
I just don’t know why the fuck he would help me.
Tass’s gaze pins me in place. “How old are you?”
“Seventeen,” I blurt, too fast, my pulse jackhammering in my throat.
Both women study me. Joyeus with that cutting smile, Tass with something colder, harder, like she’s just waiting for me to crack.
“Do you have any other form of identification?” Tass presses.
I shake my head, jaw tight, praying they can’t hear how hard I’m swallowing. “No. My dad—”
“Has the papers.” She rolls her eyes like she’s already tired of this. “Weshouldget the body,” she says then, already shifting her weight to turn.
