Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 68699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
They could not have been more correct.
It was unsurprising that wariness should come from the knowledge that she had been claimed by the biggest monster of them all.
There was only one there who kept to Claire's side.
"Did they discover who you really are, Nona?"
The old woman wrinkled her brow. "I don't think so. Even if they did, they had little interest in me. Interrogations were only about you."
"That seems rather pointless." From the sound of it, Followers had compiled a file packed with random inaccurate information. Most of these women hardly knew her, and would have probably said anything they thought Shepherd wanted to hear. Staring dull-eyed at the fire, Claire murmured, "You need to make sure Corday doesn't find out."
"It's not exactly like he can put me in prison, dearest," the woman whispered, pulling Claire to rest her head in her lap.
"But when the city is free…"
"We have other things to worry about now."
Claire sighed. "I wonder what happened to the others, the Omegas who were bonded?" Were they locked underground as she had been? Were they frightened? "I never saw anyone else. I don't know where they are. I can't help them."
"Shepherd told me that all had settled into their new place. You were the only one having difficulties." It was a subject that disturbed Nona as much as it troubled Claire. "Did you know he came to speak with me a little over a week ago? Your mate claimed you were withdrawn and demanded I tell him how to end your depression."
Hearing such a thing, Claire turned green, doubling over to vomit. That was the end of any mention of Shepherd.
Nona was a modicum of comfort, but Claire felt adrift—isolated even in the companionship of her kind. It led her to stand, to wipe her mouth, and to leave the Omegas' sanctuary without another word.
Though it was obvious she wanted to, the old woman did nothing to stop her.
Just like the last two days, from dawn to dusk Claire wandered Thólos like a wraith.
Her absences were hardly commented upon, but Nona was always there with a portion of rations she pressed Claire to eat. Once she had her dark-haired friend warming by the fire, she would talk nonsense; she would make Claire communicate, until the exhausted Omega forgot to keep answering.
For two nights straight, Corday failed to return.
If Claire noticed, if she was relieved or saddened, she said nothing.
Nona was not even sure her friend had any concept of time passing.
Claire was too beyond herself, too detached. But when she walked, the city seemed to open up to her—every path leading to some new awful landscape. The buildings were hollow because the dead were piled in the street. Marks of violence were everywhere, roving bands of looters still pillaging as if there was treasure to be found in the decay.
That was reality—exposed reality.
Half cognizant, Claire almost found her wandering had taken her right to the Citadel.
The black specks of Followers in the distance startled her out of her stupor. She drew back with such speed, she slipped on an unseen patch of ice. Heart in her throat, Claire fell into the gutter, scampering blindly until she zigzagged through the first open door in her path.
It took almost an hour to snap out of her panic, to look around at the wreck of a stranger's home and recognize why every frigid draught filled the room with whispers.
It was paper bowing in the wind. Overturned shelves, fallen books scattered over the floor.
Under her hand lay the words:
He who does not know the evils of war cannot appreciate its benefits.
Disgusted, Claire snapped the worn book closed to find Sun Tzu's The Art of War.
She wanted to throw it, to rip every last page from the spine, but instead found her eyes drawn back to the dog-eared pages. Sprawled on a pile of some dead soul's ransacked things, she read until it was too dark to continue. Then she slept, passing another night free of Shepherd, utterly lost, and broken inside.
When morning came and she woke stiff, Claire rose from her makeshift burrow and walked out the door as if she'd never been there. It was not until she was back at the Omegas' haven that she realized her bloodless fingers were still gripping Sun Tzu's masterpiece to the point they'd gone white.
She was staring at it like it owed her an explanation for being there.
Nona crept nearer to see. "What is that?"
Eyes on the book, the green-eyed waif muttered, "Sun Tzu said to appear weak when you are strong, and strong when you are weak." Claire began stripping off her clothes. "Go get the COMscreen. I need you to make me look strong."
In a building opposite the generic apartment Enforcer Corday dwelled in sat a seething Alpha—one on the verge of snapping. Shepherd prided himself on his steadiness, his focus and dedication to purpose, but at that moment, after bombardment, accusations and indignity, he was not at his best. Where the pair-bond connected, Shepherd felt some strange pulse. The force that burned and stole his focus condemned his rage. The sensation had denounced his actions often over the past months, brought with it severe discomfort. It was discomfort he bore, knowing that the final result made what were sometimes reprehensible deeds necessary for his mate.