by Dylan Steel
It had only been a couple days since he’d told her the truth about who he was—and about her past. Weston Bennick was not just a benefactor. After his parents’ deaths, he’d become the de facto leader of the Lawless. And now, Sage had to decide whether or not to risk her life and rejoin the Lawless or live in safety and isolation as a prisoner. Neither option sounded altogether appealing.
Weston stopped abruptly. They’d come to the edge of a railing and would either need to move up or down to continue forward. Sage stepped beside him, surveying the factory floor below.
Workers circled their stations, repeating the same actions again and again. Thick plumes of smoke rose into the air in several places, billowing out of furnace doors. Shouts and clangs filled the atmosphere more than the smoke, muffling the tinny echo of the metal grate beneath her feet as she shifted her weight.
Sage stiffened. She felt her benefactor’s gaze on her. Looking up, she caught a flash of curiosity in his blue eyes before he gripped her arm and tilted his head to the side, giving a slight tug to ensure she followed as he turned to climb the stairs.
Shadows and sweat clung heavily to her face, providing a sort of unflattering natural disguise, but she adjusted the brim of her hat lower over her eyes, hiding her features anyway. Weston had warned her what would happen if she was recognized. She didn’t want to give him any reason to lock her up for good.
Grateful as she was to leave his estate, she couldn’t understand why he would risk her being seen—what could be so important. She doubted he needed anything from her—he hadn’t said a word about using her skills as a tech, and she wasn’t allowed to speak to anyone.
Her internal questions were cut short when they reached a metal door. It groaned as Weston pushed it open, and together, they squeezed inside the small, rusted office. He closed the door behind them, muffling the noise outside.
A squatty, middle-aged man with flushed cheeks sat behind a desk, jabbing violently at the ancient tech in front of him as he barked orders into something that resembled a comm unit—if that comm unit had been run over by a horse trailer.
He slammed the unit down on the desk but didn’t let it go. His knuckles whitened as he raised his voice to his visitors without so much as a glance in their direction.
“I’ve said it a thousand times. No one’s allowed in here outside of posted hours without an appointment,” the foreman growled, setting a hand on his bracelet as he swiveled to face them. “So get back to—M-Mr. Bennick!”
The man’s eyes grew larger, filling with panic as he stared at the benefactor in front of him. The foreman swallowed hard, not even noticing Sage standing just behind Weston. “I’m so sorry. Sometimes the workers, they—” He stopped himself, clearing his throat. “What can I do for you today?”
Weston looked down his nose at the man, unimpressed with his suddenly cooperative nature. “Did I need an appointment?”
“No, sir, of course not. Not you. You’re always welcome here. And your guest,” he added, finally noticing that Weston wasn’t alone.
Sage dipped her chin lower to hide her face. But before she did, she caught a glimpse of the fear on the man’s face. She half-expected him to fall out of his chair and start groveling—though he was nearly there already. Benefactors made people nervous. And a Bennick was the worst kind. Weston terrified people.
“Good.” Weston nodded, looking out the office window at the activity below. “I find I am in need of more manpower at my estate. Can you spare one of your workers?”
The man’s face twisted for a moment, conflicted. He rubbed a hand over the smooth skin on his head as he spoke haltingly, “We’ve lost more than projected in the last month, sir. Wouldn’t you prefer someone more skilled? I could ask around, put in a word with—”
Weston silenced him with a dark look. “I’m in need of an unskilled worker. The training required is minimal, but I do need someone with a good deal of strength. Can you really think of a better fit?”
“N-no, sir.” He wrung his hands, shooting an uncertain look over the factory floor. “I—Would you like me to provide you with a few recommendations?”
“I prefer to choose my own.” Weston finally released the man from his gaze, turning his attention to the factory floor, studying the people below. “It shouldn’t take long. Once I make my decision, I’ll remove the worker myself, today, and register the change with the Quorum and Cabinet. I really only came to see you as a courtesy.”
The man licked his lips. “O-of course, sir. I’d be glad to esc—”
“I can find my way.”
“Certainly, but there are safety protocols and—”
“I’m aware of them.” Weston already had his hand on the door. He ushered Sage in front of him.
“Alright, but if you need any help, I—”
The door slammed in the man’s face.
“Disgusting,” Weston muttered under his breath as he led them away from the ramshackle office.
Sage dared tip her head back enough to look into his eyes, a questioning look on her face. She’d sworn to keep silent, so she didn’t say a word, but she wanted to know what he’d meant by that. Weston spared her a sideways glance but said nothing until they reached a platform that split in each direction.
“I’m going down there.” He pointed across the floor to where a handful of workers were shoveling waste into a furnace. Steam rose into the air around them, distorting her view. “Can I trust you to wait here?”
Her eyes widened, and she grabbed his arm instinctively. She bit her lip, shaking her head. Something about this place gave her the creeps, and she didn’t want to be left alone.
His eyes flicked to her hand in surprise. “I’ll just be a few minutes. No one will bother you up here.” He pried her fingers off him gently. “It can get dangerous on the floor, and I don’t want you anywhere near it.”
Sage’s brows bunched together worriedly as she watched Weston pick his way across the grating and climb down to the main level. The idea of running flitted across her mind, but she pushed it aside quickly. He’d told her that he’d reset her bracelet—she couldn’t leave the city gates without him at her side, and she wasn’t about to deliberately trap herself in Eprah.
Chills prickled along the backs of her arms, making her shiver despite the heat. She glanced around furtively, making sure she was really alone and that no one had noticed her. Satisfied that the foreman wasn’t planning to join her, she focused her attention back on Weston.
Her benefactor’s stride was purposeful as he weaved through the different stations, not hesitating as he sidestepped an occasional rolling pipe or falling object. His concern for her safety made a little more sense now that she was actually paying attention to what was going on below her.
When Weston finally reached the edge of the furnace, he clapped a hand on one of the men’s shoulders, stopping him mid-shovel. After a few moments, she saw the worker nod and put his shovel away, but she couldn’t see his expression to tell if he was terrified or happy. Maybe both.
Squinting, Sage studied the young man’s face as they began walking in her direction. The distance and haze in the air made it impossible to tell for sure, but he looked like one of the boys in her graduating class. Drolska, maybe? She wasn’t even sure if that was right. She didn’t know him well—the Institution was a big place, and those on the Cabinet track had little reason to interact with those on the factory track.
Drolska—or whoever he was—limped a little as he followed Weston, though he hid it well. Sage didn’t notice it at all until the two of them sprinted past a giant basin that had just started spewing and spitting some sort of brown liquid with steam rising from it. She shuddered.
They were nearly directly beneath her now, and despite the noise, Weston’s voice carried up through the air straight to her.
“Come on, time to go.”
Sage didn’t waste any time scrambling down the closest ladder to reach him. As soon as her feet landed on solid ground, she
lowered her eyes, tugging her hat down again. She wasn’t sure if it would be a problem if Drolska recognized her, and she didn’t want a stupid mistake to cost her a lifetime of freedom.
“We have a trailer waiting outside, Driscol.”
The young man nodded in affirmation.
Driscol—that’s it. Sage rolled her eyes inwardly at her mistake.
“It’s best if we leave straight away,” Weston continued, putting a hand on the small of Sage’s back to guide her toward the exit. “We can have someone gather your things from your apartment for you later.”
“There’s nothing worth keeping,” Driscol muttered under his breath, his limp becoming more apparent with their quick pace.
Weston nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
Driscol snorted.
Sage understood his reaction, though she wasn’t sure Weston would. Eprah didn’t furnish new graduate housing with too many comforts, and factory workers were among the lowest paid citizens. There was no way he could even afford anything extra or small or sentimental with his credits. He probably only had one or two spare sets of clothes in his apartment—maybe a spare meal bar if he’d budgeted carefully or skipped a meal—but that’d be it.
The cool winter air bit at their cheeks as soon as they walked outside, but it was a welcome relief after the heat inside the factory. Sage breathed a sigh of relief when they reached Jonah and the horses.
Jonah scrambled down from his seat, opening the door for the small group.
Driscol hesitated, but Weston motioned him inside. Sage looked at Weston uncertainly, wondering if she was allowed to talk again or if she’d have to hide her identity for the entire trip back to the estate.
Amusement sparked behind the benefactor’s blue eyes as he noticed her indecision. “It’s fine to speak now that we’re alone, Sage. He’s going to know who you are soon enough.”
Sage frowned, shooting a disapproving glare at Weston. “Not like I would’ve known,” she mumbled.
A smile played at his lips as he nudged her forward.
Climbing inside, she settled into a seat across from Driscol. For a moment, she avoided looking at him, then forced herself to turn toward him. He was already looking at her, brows dipped in curiosity.
“I’m Driscol,” he said.
“Sage,” she mumbled a half-hearted introduction in response.
“I know. You were the Bokja champion last year.”
“Yeah.” She shrugged. Being the Bokja champion didn’t seem like much of an accomplishment anymore. Not since graduation. Not since losing so much and having what little freedom she had threatened.
Driscol shifted his weight, using his hands to help reposition his left leg which had been resting at an unnatural angle. He looked like he wanted to say something else, but Weston chose that moment to jump inside the trailer, stopping him from saying anything more.
“Alright,” he said, closing the door behind him as he slipped into the seat beside Sage, “let’s go home.”
***
End of preview.
Continue reading The Founders: Sacrisvita Book XIII.
READ MORE BY DYLAN STEEL
Sacrisvita
THE PRODIGY: A Sacrisvita Prequel
(FREE and only available HERE.)
THE INSTITUTION: Sacrisvita Book I
THE ARCHIVES: Sacrisvita Book II
THE RELIC: Sacrisvita Book III
THE ESTATE: Sacrisvita Book IV
THE VANISHED: Sacrisvita Book V
THE CAPTIVE: Sacrisvita Book VI
THE OUTCAST: Sacrisvita Book VII
THE TRIALS: Sacrisvita Book VIII
THE ROGUE: Sacrisvita Book IX
THE CITIZEN: Sacrisvita Book X
THE SURVIVOR: Sacrisvita Book XI
THE BENEFACTOR: Sacrisvita Book XII
THE FOUNDERS: Sacrisvita Book XIII
THE LAWLESS: Sacrisvita Book XIV
***
Third Earth
SLEEPER: A Third Earth Prequel
(FREE and only available HERE.)
ALONE: Third Earth Volume One
***
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