by Ashlee Price
“Now, leave before I call security and have you dragged out of here.”
With my feet feeling as heavy as my heart, I step away from the desk and turn towards the door.
“Oh, and please don’t complain about this,” Sandra adds hastily. “I would rather not make things difficult for your friends who are still here.”
I nod and continue making my exit. I understand the warning well.
Warning? No. It’s a threat.
The lump in my throat quivers as I gaze at the door ahead of me, waiting for me. With each step I take, my heart cracks and tears slip through, welling up in my chest.
Belinda Gerwin.
One of the Matriarchs, one of the Pioneers. And my boyfriend’s mother.
I know all too well why she had me fired. Now everything makes sense. That doesn’t mean I can accept it.
I’m sorry, Elisa, but I can’t help you any longer. I don’t even know how I’ll survive now.
After what seems like an eternity, I reach the double doors. A tear trickles down my cheek just before the chime rattles, the sound shattering me to the bone.
Who would have thought doom would sound like a wind chime?
Chapter 2
Michael
The engine of my motorcycle roars as I drive through the streets of City Q at full speed with my jaw clenched. My heart races even faster.
Every now and then, I glance at my watch to make sure I’m headed in the right direction. With each passing second, the red dot on the screen gets closer and closer.
Hang in there, Grace.
The moment I saw Grace’s empty stool in her workroom at the wardrobe quarters, I had a feeling in my gut that something was wrong. It didn’t take more than a few seconds with Sandra to confirm that suspicion.
Grace is gone, and if not for the tracking device every resident of City Q is required to have in their bloodstream, I would have spent the whole night looking for her and still not found her. As it is, I know exactly where she is.
Finally, I reach the red dot. I step on the brakes and find myself at the entrance of an alley. The stench of trash gushes into my nostrils and I grimace, but I’m not about to let that dissuade me.
I get off my bike and walk away from it. It’s dark, but I can feel pairs of eyes on me like the red dots from snipers’ guns. I ignore them. If I were outside the city I’d be a target, but not here. No one would dare touch a Pioneer knowing that they’d be kicked out of the city in a heartbeat.
Because everyone knows it’s hell outside the city.
I stride into the alley and disappear into the shadows. Now there are only two lights I can see. The huge one behind me out on the street and the thin strip escaping from beneath the door near the end. I walk towards the door.
Something squishes beneath my feet. Something else splatters. I keep going.
Finally, I’m in front of the door. I knock, and a moment later, it opens.
“What do you…?”
The stocky man in the doorway stops talking as soon as I step into the light. His eyes grow wide and the scowl vanishes from his face. The lump in his throat moves and he steps aside.
I look around the room. I see bunks against the walls and patched-up curtains covering them.
“Grace?”
I hear a sniffle from the bottom bunk in the corner and I walk over there and pull the curtain aside.
Relief floods through me as I finally see the chestnut-brown hair and the blue eyes I’m looking for. Then my relief vanishes as I see the tears in those eyes and their trails on her cheeks.
My chest grows tight.
“What happened, Grace?”
She gives another sniff and blows her nose. “I got kicked out of wardrobe quarters.”
My eyebrows go up. No way. Grace was the best at that joint. She could sew the fastest and her work was always precise and done on time if not way ahead. Her finished clothes were always stunning. I know for a fact that she doesn’t have any attitude problems, either. They can’t fire her.
And yet, those swollen eyes and those quivering lips tell me they have.
I clench my fist. “Shit.”
“My sentiments exactly.” Grace looks at me. “Not to mention I probably look like it.”
Well, her hair is a bit of a mess and her eyes are puffy and bloodshot. Her clothes look dirty, too. She probably stumbled somewhere on the way here. But I don’t tell her any of that. Instead, I pull her into my arms.
“Shh.” I stroke her hair. “It’ll be alright. You’ll find another job.”
“Will I?” She pulls away and the sadness in her eyes weighs down on my chest. “I’m not a genius, Michael. Heck, I barely had passing grades at school. I don’t have any special talent or skill. I’m not even that likeable.”
I frown. “What are you talking about?”
“All I know is how to sew. All I ever wanted to be was a fashion designer. Now that both of those have been taken away from me, I don’t know what I have left or what I am anymore.”
She jumps out of the bed, puts on her boots and dashes out into the alley.
I follow her.
“Why is this happening to me?” She turns to me with her arms folded across her chest. “I’m a simple girl. I never wanted much. I never asked for much. I just wanted to make nice clothes for other people, not even for me. But we didn’t have money for fashion school, so I had to work, and when I finally had the money, when I finally thought I could get one step closer to my dream, Rudy messed everything up. Even then, I still kept dreaming. I thought if I could work at wardrobe quarters, then one day I might be allowed to design clothes, and who knows? Maybe one day, the world would go back to the way it was and everyone could wear my clothes. That’s what I thought.” Her gaze falls to the ground. “I’m so stupid.”
“No, you’re not.” I grab her hand. “And you can still make your dream come true.”
Grace shakes her head. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t feel like believing anymore. Maybe you’re the only dream I was meant to have.”
“Hey.” I jerk her arm. “Don’t you give up.”
She turns to me and I stroke her cheek. “You are stronger than this.”
“But that’s the thing. I’m tired of being strong, Michael.”
She walks towards the wire fence and sits in front of it as she blows her nose and wipes her tears. I lean against the side of the building and watch her.
Grace is stronger than any woman I’ve met. That’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with her. But I understand how she feels. Life made her a warrior, but even the fiercest, most capable soldier gets weary of battle. She wants peace and happiness and God knows she deserves them, which is why I’ll gladly do anything to help her get them.
“I’ll talk to Sandra,” I offer.
“No,” she protests quickly.
My eyebrows furrow. “Why not?”
She doesn’t answer.
I walk over to her and stand behind her. “Grace?”
She rubs her arm. “You can’t talk to Sandra. It’s not her fault. She’s not that bad. She doesn’t need another person telling her what to do.”
I squat beside her. “What do you mean by another person? Who told her to fire you?”
Grace purses her lips.
I place my arm around her. “Grace, what aren’t you telling me?”
She lets out a sigh as she gazes up at the sky. “Belinda Gerwin.”
My eyebrows bunch up. My mother?
“She spoke to Sandra. I don’t know what she said exactly, but she must have threatened Sandra. It seemed like she had no choice but to fire me.”
“No.” My arm falls to my side. “She couldn’t have.”
“She did.”
“Why would she…?”
“Because she hates me, Michael!” Grace turns to face me.
The furious conviction in Grace’s accusation and in her eyes makes me fall silent.
She inhales sharply as she folds her
arms on top of her knees and rests her chin on top of them.
“She must have discovered our relationship and decided to do something about it, which she unfortunately can. And I can’t blame her. Someone like her wouldn’t want her only son hanging out with someone like me.”
I frown. “How many times have I told you not to think so poorly of yourself?”
“Well, she does,” Grace answers. “I know you think the world of her because she’s your mother, Michael, but you have to open your eyes. I don’t deserve you.”
My eyes widen. “What?”
“I’m not a Pioneer, Michael. I was never on one of those Vessels. I’ve been through hell.”
“So? So have most people.”
“Look at me.” She lifts her head and grabs my sleeve. “I’m hideous.”
“You’re not.” I touch her chin.
True, she has that scar across her face, but so what? She has the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. She has high cheekbones that I love running my thumbs across. She has an upturned nose that I love rubbing my nose against. And she has the softest chestnut brown hair that I can’t stop gripping when we have sex.
Not that looks matter. More than all that, I fell in love with her personality, her strength, her laughter, her kind soul.
That soul is far from hideous.
I grit my teeth. “If you say that one more time, I’ll…”
“I have no family,” she cuts me off. “No friends. I don’t even have a job now.”
I take her hand. “I’ll tell Sandra to give you your job back.”
“And you think she’ll listen to you? You think you’re more powerful than your parents?”
No. I’m not. My father, a former senator, is one of the men who helped build City Q. My mother helped design it. Together, they practically run it. Compared to them, I’ve done nothing. I am nothing. Even so, there must be something I can do.
“I’ll find you another job,” I tell Grace.
She shakes her head. “You don’t understand, Michael. It doesn’t even matter if I get a job with or without your help. I’ll never be good enough for your parents—or for you.”
“That’s not true.” I kneel in front of her. “You are more than good enough for me. You’re the best woman I’ve ever met, and if my parents can’t see that, well, that’s their loss. If they don’t think you’re good enough for me, then their opinion isn’t good enough for me.”
Grace raises her eyebrows. “What are you going to do, huh? Are you going to say we’re going to elope? Because in case you’ve forgotten, we don’t have anywhere to go. Eloping would be suicide and I won’t let you do it.”
“No.” I squeeze her hand. “We’re not going to elope. We’re going to get married.”
Grace’s blue eyes narrow. “We are?”
I nod. Why not? I’ve loved her ever since I met her, in spite of all the ruins and chaos around us, in spite of her scars, in spite of the fact that I was a Pioneer and she a Survivor.
Sure, before the Icebreaker, it would have been deemed too soon. We haven’t even been together for two years. But what with everything that’s going on, no one knows what the future will bring and the best time to do something is now.
Grace’s eyebrows crease. “Are you proposing to me right now?”
“Well, I’m already on my knees,” I tell her with a shrug. “Sure, I don’t have a ring…”
I pause as my eyes fall on the silver ring on my pinkie. It’s the ring my father gave me when I was still a teenager.
I take the ring off my finger and slip it on hers. It’s too big for the ring finger, so I decide to put it on the middle.
“I promise I’ll get you a wedding ring that’s exactly your size,” I assure her as I plant a kiss on her hand. Then I look into her eyes. “Will you, Grace Dawson, marry me?”
“Michael…”
“Yes or no?”
She swallows. “Are you sure about this? Your parents will…”
“I’ll talk to them tomorrow. I’ll tell them that we’re getting married. I won’t ask for their permission. I’ll simply tell them of my decision.”
“And if they oppose it?” Grace gives me a worried look.
“We’ll get married anyway. Or I’ll just get you pregnant.”
Grace’s eyes grow wide.
“They won’t be able to cast you aside or dislike you then. In fact, they’ll love you because I’m their only son and they want their bloodline to endure.” I place my hand on her belly. “See, we have the advantage because they need me. They need us.”
Grace’s look of worry returns.
“They won’t like my decision but they won’t be able to do anything about it. I’m going to marry you, Grace.” I reach up to stroke her tearstained cheek. “That is, if you’ll have me.”
For a moment, she says nothing, does nothing. Then she nods.
“Is that a yes?”
Her lips finally curve into a smile. “Yes, Michael Gerwin, I will marry you.”
I let out a breath of relief and return her smile. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I grasp her chin and press my mouth to hers. The warmth and softness of her lips, which have finally stopped trembling, make my heart pound. I part my own lips so our tongues can brush against each other and I taste the saltiness of her tears. Heat bubbles up in my veins.
Damn, I want nothing more than to hold her again. Right here. Right now. I want to slip my hands beneath her clothes and feel her skin beneath my palm. I want to wrap my lips around her breast, to dip my fingers into the sweetest part of her, and then my tongue. I want to feel her exquisite warmth, her velvety skin clamping around me, squeezing me.
At the thought, my cock throbs in my pants and a surge of heat climbs up my spine. I deepen the kiss and she whimpers. Her hands clutch my shirt.
She wants me, too. I can tell. And that thought makes keeping my own desire reined in even harder.
I do that, though. I summon every bit of self-control in my aching body and tell myself that she deserves better than sex in a dark, dirty alley. Besides, soon we’ll be together all the time and we can have sex as much as we want. Soon, she’ll be all mine and I’ll be all hers.
For always.
I pull away.
Grace gasps for air. Even in the shadows, I can see the blush coating her cheeks.
Suddenly, my watch beeps. I frown as I glance at the screen and see the icon that tells me I have an incoming message from Central.
“Work?” Grace asks. “Or your mom?”
“Are those two different things?”
She chuckles.
Good. She’s in a better mood now.
“I have to go.” I stand up and lift her to her feet. “But I’ll be sending someone to fetch you and bring you somewhere better. You can wait for me there until I’ve finished talking to my parents. Then when we’re married, you’ll be staying with me. Always.”
“Unless you have work,” she reminds me.
I grin and kiss the beginning of the scar atop her nose. “I’ll be counting the minutes until we’re together again and forever. Until then…” I plant another lingering kiss on her forehead. “Get ready.”
Grace nods. “I will be.”
Chapter 3
Grace
“Ready or not, here I come.”
I turn away from the wall and look around the living room. I strain my ears to listen for a sound.
None.
The lounge is silent. I glance at the curtain, which doesn’t seem to have any unusual bumps behind it. I look behind the couch and under the table, but no one seems to be hiding there either.
I scratch my chin.
“Hmm. I wonder where all those naughty children went.”
As I go to the bedroom, I check all the places where a child between the ages of four and six—the age range of the three girls I’m looking after -could hide.
Under the bed? Nope.
Under the s
heets? Not there, either.
I look around. There aren’t really any other places to hide, which means they’re not here in the bedroom.
I sit on one of the beds and run my fingers over the soft white sheets.
Now these are made of real cotton.
Of course they are. Everything here at the Sanctuary is of only the best quality the world has to offer. This is where the city’s handful of children, the most important portion of the world’s dwindling population, are cared for. They are the future, humanity’s greatest treasures, and they are treated as such. Not to mention that most of the children here are children of Pioneers, born in space on board the Vessel.
They deserve only the best.
As promised, Michael helped me find a new job, as a nanny here. As it turned out, my experience in taking care of my younger sister qualified me for that.
It’s not exactly my dream job, but I don’t mind it. In fact, I’m beginning to like it. Being around innocent children brings me back to a time when the world was less troubled and gives me hope that it can be so again.
I place a hand over my belly as I remember Michael’s words. Can Michael and I really have children of our own? If so, will they stay here?
A series of giggles from the next room breaks into my thoughts.
I stand up and tiptoe into the playroom. A mountain of stuffed toys stands in the center. Dolls sit on shelves against the wall and a quaint tea set rests on a round table surrounded by four small chairs. There are rocking unicorns, a swing set and a plastic slide that ends in a pool of colorful balls. There’s a dollhouse and a playhouse. There’s a dresser with shiny combs and a wooden kitchen set. There’s even a pink baby grand piano and a stage with curtains for performances both rehearsed and impromptu.
It reminds me of one of those play places at the mall where my parents used to leave my sister and me while they did their shopping or watched a grownup movie. This one is more luxurious, though.
“Hmm.” I touch my chin as I look around and catch a glimpse of black hair among the pile of stuffed toys. “I thought I heard someone.”
I hear another faint giggle and glance at the toy chest behind me. The lid closes.
There’s two. Now where’s the third one?
“That’s strange. I don’t see anyone.” I gasp. “Oh no. What if there’s a monster hiding in this room?”