by Charlie Hart
His gaze returns to his father. “She won’t leave here without seeing him. Not when she finds out that he’s here.”
Giles is here.
My chest squeezes.
“Then don’t tell her.” The Director shifts slightly, so I can see his profile. “Secrets are power, son. When are you going to learn that?”
Salinger grunts and shakes his head. “I won’t leave until I see him. You have no right to keep him--”
“You forget who’s in charge here, son.”
“No, Father.” Salinger takes a step towards him and points a finger at his father’s chest. “I think it’s you who forgets. Don’t underestimate Mother. She will protect Tia.”
“I think it’s you who overestimates her,” the Director says coldly. “I still hold rule in Alaska, I’m the elected Director. I have the final say.”
Salinger chuckles, it’s a harsh sound, one that doesn’t sound like him. “Appearances can be deceiving.”
The tension between the two men is almost palpable. I can feel it crackling in the air. I hold my breath, wondering who will be the first to back down.
They stare at each other for a long moment, before his father finally gives a small nod. “Fine. You can take her to him. But like I said, I doubt he’ll know either of you. And I’m not sure you want that sensitive little wife of yours seeing him in his current state.”
I suck in a shaky breath.
When the Director starts to walk away, Salinger grabs his bicep, stopping him. “What did you do to him?”
There’s a deep, sinister laugh that sends goosebumps across my flesh. “Nothing worse than the mercenaries will do when I hand him over into their custody. The man is tough, I’ll give him that. He never broke.”
My heart pounded against my rib cage and I lean against the wall, trying my best not to let emotion win. But every cell in my body screams for me to jerk open the door and attack the Director with fists and nails.
I don’t care that he’s Salinger’s father, I hate the man.
There are more words exchanged, but I don’t hear them. A million tortuous thoughts go through my head. A million things that could have been done to my husband. Yes, Giles is strong. As strong as any man I know. But it doesn’t make me feel any better that he didn’t break because it just means they would have hurt him more.
Salinger though isn’t finished. “He won’t break. You’re asking him to confess to a crime he didn’t commit. What do you want with him?”
The Director laughs. “He already confessed. You were there.”
“Then why torture him?”
“People are always hiding something, son. You think your mother is a noble woman? Yet you know her fixation. Her obsession. Above all else she wants her Lottery to not become a work done in vain.”
“Is that what she’s doing here? In this dome?”
“If you want that answer, ask her.”
“Damnit, Dad. Could someone in this family just be fucking straight with me for once?”
I can see the anger flaring in the Director’s face and I know Sal has pushed things too far.
Because of me. Because I criticized him for not knowing his mother’s truths. Shame flushes through me. I don’t want another one of my husbands in trouble for the things I put in their heads.
The Director says something that I can’t hear, and then his footsteps echo down the sterile hall.
Silence.
I close my eyes and wait, my heart pounding so hard in my ears, consumed by my thoughts of Giles. I startle when the door to the bedroom flies open, and Salinger flicks the lights on.
“What are you doing in here?” Salinger whispers sharply moving into the room.
“I...” I can’t even remember. My brain is a scatter of thoughts all centered around Giles. “I... I was trying to find you.”
Sal’s nostrils flare, but his anger doesn’t last as his gaze roams around the room, eyes softening even as he takes in everything. He drags his fingers through his shaggy blond hair and lets out a slow, uneven sigh.
Moments pass and I watch as Sal sits down on the edge of the twin size bed and picks up one of the many dolls that are laid across it, waiting for a child that I know in the deepest part of my soul will never come back.
Despite the colors and toys that fill the room, the shadow of death blankets it.
“Hannah was your sister?” I finally ask, wanting, no needing, to know more about my husband.
He nods. “My twin.”
“Oh.” In a world where babies are rare, twins are even more of an anomaly. I’ve read stories about women in the past giving birth to three, four, even eight healthy babies. But those stories seem more like myths and legends now.
Salinger places the doll back on the bed, then drags his fingers over his face. “We should go. If mother knew you were in here... No one’s allowed in this room. Not even me.”
“What happened to her?” I ask, taking a step towards him, seeing the pain in his gaze, the guilt.
“Another story for another day.” He shakes his head, standing, his dark gaze not meeting mine. “She’s dead. That's all that matters.”
Except it isn’t. I can tell by his expression that there’s more to the story.
“Let’s go.” He takes my hand, turning the lights off as he shuts the door to whatever memories the room holds. “I know where Giles is. But he... Shit, Tia.”
“I heard your father,” I say, knowing he means to warn me about my Giles’ condition. I take a deep steadying breath. “I know what to expect.”
Except when we walk into the small, highly guarded room twenty minutes later, nothing could have prepared me for the broken, mutilated man I find.
“Giles,” his name comes out as a sob, and even Salinger sucks in a breath tinged with horror and shock.
Although the room has been set up as a makeshift hospital, with monitors and tubes running into his body, there are no comforts, not even a pillow for his head. And the thin white blanket, stained with dried blood only covering his waist to the top of his thighs, leaves all the horrors the sick bastards did to him, exposed.
Small, fresh wounds that look like they’ve been done by a scalpel, cover his body, and where his fingernails once were, are now only scabs. His face is the only part of his body untouched, but his cheeks are hollowed out and if it weren’t for the monitors that beep with his slow heart rate, I’d think he was already dead.
My knees weaken and my stomach coils.
Why keep him alive? Just to torture him?
The brutality of what’s been done to the man I love, because of me, is like a sharp knife to the gut.
And I know that the Director had every intention of letting me see him. It’s all a warning, sent to me. He wanted me to see him here, like this, to understand the weight of this world.
To keep me quiet.
My legs barely carry me across the room, and I’m almost afraid to take his hand, that I might hurt him with even the gentlest touch.
I lean over and brush my lips against his, my tears rolling down my cheeks and onto his face.
“Giles.” This time I whisper his name as I brush my knuckles across his face, along his dark red beard.
His eyes flutter, but they don’t open.
“Tia,” he mumbles, the word rough, like it pains him to speak.
“I’m here.” I take his hand in mine, trying to fight back the grief that chokes me. “I’m here, Giles. So is Salinger. We’re doing everything we can to get you out of here.”
“No.” His eyes open then, and what I see in the blue depths is fear. “No.”
“It’s okay.”
“You... can’t... be here.”
“I’m all right.” I lean over him and place my palm on his cheek. “Salinger is here. I’m safe.”
“No.” He tries to get up, but there’s no strength left in him, and he falls back on the bed, wincing, eyes closed again. The beeping of the monitors increase and so do his breaths. “Get.
..her...out...of here.”
Salinger is behind me, his hands rested on my arms. “She’s safe. I promise.”
“No.” This time the word is a deep guttural growl of warning. But whatever he wants to say, the pain steals it from him.
“Giles?” I place both hands on his cheek, begging silently that he’ll wake up again, that I can give him some small comfort. But unconsciousness has claimed him again.
“We should go,” Salinger says.
“I can’t leave him here. Not like this.” Tears stream down my cheeks again, uninhibited, and I turn and pound my fists on Salinger’s chest. “Look what your father did to him.”
He grabs my wrists and places his forehead against mine. “I know. And I’ll do everything I can to get him out of here, but...”
“But what? He’ll die if he’s left like this.”
“I’ll talk to my mother.”
It’s not enough, but it’s something. The woman is probably Giles’ only hope now.
I’m still not sure I can trust Salinger, but I have no other choice. Giles’ life depends on it.
Chapter 4
Salinger
The discussion with my mother does little to ease the gnawing in my chest. Even though I know she has the power to set the man free, she would make no promise to do so.
But she did promise to protect Tia. And even though I know the brutality of Warren Thorne and Lawson Jefferson's tactics, my mother is just as fierce when defending what she wants. And what she wants is my wife pregnant.
A dark chuckle rumbles in my throat, knowing that even if Tia is pregnant, there’s no chance that it’s mine. Not that I would confess that to my mother. It would just give her more reason to think I’m weak, useless, the lesser of her two children.
That’s always what I was to her. But after Hannah’s death, and my part involved in it, my mother’s distaste for me grew to what I could only call loathing. The only thing I’m good enough, for now, is bringing her grandchildren into the world.
So, in a way, I understand how Tia feels.
I’m numb, drained, and so is Tia when we finally walk through the doors of our compound. The men swarm us and Tia is instantly wrapped up in Fallon’s arms. She melts into him, taking his comfort. Comfort that I want to give but know I can’t. Not when she blames me for Giles.
She hasn’t said as much, but how can she not? It’s my father who did those horrid things to the man. My father who refuses to let him go, even though he knows he’s an innocent man.
The car ride back was silent. Both blindfolded, we sat only inches apart, but it could have been miles for how distant she felt. And now, she’s back with her other husbands, the men she leans on, makes love to, shares her heart and body with.
But they don’t know her secrets. That privilege is mine. It’s the one thing she gave me that she hasn’t given the others. In some ways, I know her better than all of them.
“What happened?” Fallon growls out, staring daggers at me as he holds Tia against his chest like she’s the most fucking precious thing in the world.
She is. I get that now. It’s been a slow revelation, but now it fills every crevice of my heart and mind.
“It’s a long story,” I say weakly, not wanting to get into all the details with them now, but knowing I have no other choice.
As if on cue, Fallon hisses, “Then start talking.”
I can feel the other men’s tension around us.
Emerson crosses his arms over his large chest, long hair tied away from his face, exposing deep worry lines on his forehead. Huxley sits down on the arm of one of the couches, watching Tia and Fallon. And Banks stands to the side, hands in the pockets of his slacks, black eyes piercing. All are waiting for an answer. One I don’t have the strength to give.
“Giles,” Tia whimpers against Fallon’s chest. “We saw him.”
Fallon tilts her chin up with his palm, forcing her to look at him. “Where?”
I can hear his unspoken message, and I have no doubt he’d go on a suicide mission to find his friend. The two of them are close. I did some digging and know how their families are connected. By friendship and tragedy. Fallon would fight with his last breath to save the man, but I also know his priority is Tia, which gives me some small hope that he’ll stay grounded.
“They have him in a secure location.” I shove my hands in my pocket and lean against the wall, needing the support. Not sure why I’m so exhausted, but it’s like all the energy has been drained out of me. “Even if we could find our way there, you won’t get in. It’s more fortified than the base.”
My words are met with mumbles and curses.
“How is he?” Emerson asks, the words tight like he has some indication of the horrors the man has barely survived.
Tia twists in Fallon’s arms, and she looks at me, grief clouding her eyes. We both know that Giles won’t last long if he’s not released soon.
“He’s still alive,” she whispers. “But barely.”
Silence meets her words, and we all stand there for a long moment lost in our own thoughts. Eventually, I find the strength to tell them about my mother, about her promise to protect Tia. It’s dangerous telling them my family secrets, not knowing how they’ll react, but the time for hiding behind lies is over.
I say nothing about who Tia really is. That’s on her. Our wife. Except, she’s not, not legally. The only thing I can think of that would unbind her from the man who bought her is the one thing that could take her from us forever.
If she were to get pregnant, give birth to a healthy daughter, she’d be given immunity by the Global Council. She’d really be free. Even if she wanted to leave us. It would be her choice.
Yes, the child would have to stay here in Alaska, but Tia would be a free woman, unbound by all laws and charges. Even for the murder of the mercenary.
This world is so upside down. I sometimes wonder how humanity will survive. Maybe it won’t. Maybe this whole population crisis is nature’s way of getting rid of the parasites that have destroyed this planet in only a few thousand years.
“I’m taking Tia up to bed,” Fallon says, an arm around her waist.
I catch Tia’s gaze before Fallon turns her towards the stairs. The silent communication between us is fleeting, and for a second, I think she wants me to go with her, to stay by her side.
Not likely.
And she has Fallon. The man isn’t going to let anyone near her until he gets whatever primal alpha shit he has going on out of his system.
I should be happy that the others care about her the way they do. But for the first time, or at least the first time I’ve realized what the emotion is, jealousy stirs in my chest. I want to be with her. Want more than she’s given me, more than I’ve been willing to take, to fight for.
Chapter 5
Tia
In Fallon’s familiar arms, I try to forget the pain of the last twenty-four hours. We talk about Giles and Fallon wraps me in his arms, whispering words of strength, giving me hope that we’ll free him.
I sleep for hours, wrapped in the security he provides, and when I wake he allows me to cry over the things I saw, over the brutality that Giles has gone through, and what he still faces.
Two days pass. I see my other husbands, but there’s so much tension between the men, and in a way, I need Fallon the most because he’s the closest to Giles, the one who understands what I’m going through best.
When I lie down with him at night, my body craves the intimacy he gives, and in the moments when he’s touching me, I can forget for one brief second that our lives aren’t complete chaos.
“I love you so damn much,” he growls in my ear.
“I need you,” I murmur, fisting my hands in his shirt, my body already humming with the need to be consumed, the need to forget... for just a moment.
Fallon drops to his knees, tugging down my pants, my panties too. His warm breath sends tingles up my spine. I thread my fingers through his hair as he begins to kiss
me softly. I close my eyes, savoring the way he so intimately knows me.
“God, I need you too,” he tells me, fervent in his desire.
I fall on the edge of my bed, and he spreads my knees. His tongue runs up and down my slit, my core awakens.
I let his body and words guide me somewhere safe. Far from the dome where Giles is kept. Far from the harsh words of the Director. With Fallon, I sink into the comfort of home.
It may only be an illusion, but it’s better than falling into the utter despair of reality.
“You taste so good,” he whispers, his fingers brushing against my folds so tenderly. I reach for him, wanting to feel his strength covering my body, wanting his eyes to meet my own.
“Please,” I whimper as I move farther back on the bed, dragging him up with me, but my body trembles, not just from desire, but from all the emotions that swirl inside of me.
“Hey, it’s okay,” he says tenderly.
“But... it’s not.” I take a deep steadying breath. “You should have seen where they kept him. What they did to him.”
“I know,” he whispers. “You were scared.”
“Still am. But not for me. Only for Giles.”
“Damn, I’ll kill the fucking Director.” The look in his eyes tells me he means it. “I mean it, Tia. I don’t care that he’s Salinger’s father, I’ll--”
“Fallon.” I shake my head. “I just... I need to forget... for tonight,” I whisper. “Please.”
He must understand what I mean because he drops the threat and cups my face in his hand, his chest pressed against my own.
“I love you so damn much, Tia,” he tells me again, his words more a promise than a declaration and I know he would give his life for me. The way Giles did.
The faith they have in me is so deep and wide, and when Fallon presses his cock inside my wanting body, I cling to him, desperate in my longing to not let them down.
Entering the Lottery, on their part, was a gamble. And I just don’t want the truth of who I am to make them regret giving me their hearts.