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)
Corday did not wait for an invitation, pushing his superior officer aside as he growled, "Like hell I shouldn't."
"Have you lost your mind?" The door was swiftly locked, the invading cold air shut out. "Showing up here in broad daylight endangers us all."
Looking back at the soldier, Corday deepened his scowl. "It's dumping snow outside, no one's on the street and my tracks are already being covered. Where is Senator Kantor?"
"I'm here," a voice sounded from the dwelling's back room.
Ignoring the snarling Brigadier Dane, Corday pulled the note out of his pocket and stomped over. "She left."
Senator Kantor set down his COMscreen and took the note. One brief read over and the old Alpha shook his head. "I'm sorry, Corday. It's not like we could have locked her up."
"Claire is going to do something crazy!" Practically tearing out his hair, Corday snarled, "We've gotta stop her."
Senator Kantor shook his head, his tired eyes bloodshot and sad. "We cannot risk exposing ourselves on a manhunt. We both know she recognized we couldn't help her. Do you understand that, kid?"
"She's going to get herself killed!"
Speaking in a low voice, the Alpha tried to convey sense and a much needed measure of calm. "The Omega is pregnant, she's pair-bonded and mentally detached. She doesn't have much time left, and she knows it."
Rubbing his forehead as if he could wipe away his frustration, Corday demanded, "What are you saying?"
"I am saying that Claire is fighting what must be a nightmare inside her. Her timeline is short and she is making her choice."
"I told you. The pair-bond was damaged."
Senator Kantor dropped the fatherly tone in place for one far more authoritative. "She's damaged. Her determination is the only thing keeping her together. You try to cage her, or stop her, she'll fall apart. And that would only open her up to his influence again. It might be best to let her do what she needs to do while she can still do it."
"We both know she's going to try to get those Omegas out of the Undercroft," Corday hissed. "It would take an army and she's just one girl."
Senator Kantor fully understood what was at stake. "She has an advantage, a hostage, and you don't know where she is. Nothing can be done. Believe it or not, my bet's on her."
"He'll KILL her."
"Read the letter again." Senator Kantor handed the crumpled page back. "No one can comprehend the consequences like she can. She's a grown woman who's made her choice, just like we ask our brothers and sisters in arms to make every day."
"This is fucking insanity!" Corday stormed out of the room, the note crushed in his grip. "I'm going to find her. I'm going to bring her home."
Brushing past a frowning Brigadier Dane, Corday found himself caught.
His arm in her grip, Dane's face was red and her hiss nasty. "You will do no such thing. Return to your home. Cool off before you jeopardize the entire resistance with your impulsive stupidity. Think, for once. Whatever this Claire has planned, distracting her or getting yourself killed won't help anyone."
Corday was strongly tempted to violence. "You don't know Claire."
"I don't, but I know you. And I know when you're wrong."
The weather was absolute shit. A blessing and a curse, as it seemed Thólos was hiding from the unfamiliar storm. No soul walked the streets to pester her, and though falling snow made the path difficult, the trek left her soaked to the bone and shivering violently.
In all the years since Claire had last walked the midlevel promenade, she'd forgotten much. The tight dwellings were still celery green, but it took her some time to remember which window had once housed a flower box full of red poppies.
There were no splashes of color now… no flowers. Soon even the withering trees would be nothing but sticks. All there was, was that too cheerful green peeking out from clinging frost, broken windows, and refuse.
Three flights up, third domicile on the right.
Standing face to face with a once familiar door, Claire jiggled the handle and found it locked. Running her fingernail around the frame, she felt a bump in the crack—a spare key hidden just as it had been when she was a girl.
The inside was dark. No one was home.
In place of the woman she sought lay junk; wires, filters, air scrubbers, pipes, and whirring machines piled all over the room. The selfish magpie had stolen them right out of the Dome's infrastructure, and by doing so had weakened everyone else.
It was unspeakable, infuriating and, worst of all, after reading her file, Claire was not remotely surprised.
Mouth sour, Claire stripped off her wet clothes, hung them to drip in the galley kitchen, and helped herself to something dry. It was night before she finally heard the scratch of a key in the lock.