Page 45 of Reclaimed

Once her wrists are free, the new guy takes her wrist and secures the Guardian cuff.

“So, you must be A311,” he smirks, turning to me as my own restraints are cut. “Lucky for you, you get to be the new test subject.”

An Enforcer grabs me from behind by my sweatshirt, the collar digging into my neck as he yanks. The fabric rips, my shirt falling to the floor in shreds as the new Enforcer uncaps the syringe and jabs the needle into my neck.

I choke on a gasp as something implants beneath my skin, my arms wrapping around myself as goosebumps pebble up. He swipes a fob over the junction of my neck and shoulder, and a soft static brushes beneath my skin, panic rolling through me. Then a tiny zap has my muscles going rigid, blood pooling in my mouth as I bite my tongue against the pain.

“And activated,” he drawls, handing the remote off to the other Enforcer. “Guardian has app access, return the remote after transfer.”

My pulse races, real fear taking hold. Enduring a shock from a Guardian cuff was one thing, but to have a device implanted inside me, like it’s part of my body?

I think I’m gonna be sick.

“Let’s go,” he barks, turning on a heel.

Kenzie and I follow him through the door and into a loading dock, where he rolls up a metal door. Beyond it is a chain link cage with three other Assets inside, all in various stages of undress around a pile of clothes in the middle. Metal rattles and scrapes as he unlatches the gate, shoving us inside.

“Get changed and be quiet,” the Enforcer orders, swinging the gate closed and latching it again. “Or you’ll leave here as ash instead.”

He turns and walks away, leaving that ominous threat hanging in the air.

“This isn’t how I remember auction prep,” I mutter, a bad attempt at humor buried somewhere in there.

“Because it isn’t,” Kenzie sighs, bending at the waist to snatch a top off the pile of clothes before handing it over to me.

“What do you mean?” I ask as I take it from her hand.

“This is allocation pickup,” she says, plucking a top and mini skirt off the pile for herself.

I stare back at her in confusion, but she doesn’t elaborate. Instead, she pulls her top off over her head, my gaze snagging on the pale pink letters carved into the flesh beneath her belly button.

Harris.

18

TALON

The elevator doors inside the compound slide open with a mechanical ding, and I step off to find Slade leaning up against the wall nearby, one foot kicked back against the cinderblock as he scrolls his phone absently. He looks up at the sound of my footsteps, something like relief washing over his features as if he’s been waiting for me.

“Tracking me now?” I ask, arching a brow in his direction. “Careful, Slade, you’re starting to look desperate.”

“Where you been?” he questions, pushing off from the wall and advancing in my direction.

I swipe Jersey’s video feed away, pocketing my phone. “Out,” I reply flatly, shouldering past him to head for my apartment.

“Uh huh,” Slade mumbles, keeping pace with me. “Do you remember that Miller kid from probation? Austin? Couldn’t hit shit unless it was five feet in front of him and completely still, only made it as far as he did because of his dad?”

I grunt in response, not breaking stride.

The mention of Miller’s name should raise all the fucking red flags, considering I went rogue and melted the guy’s face off, but I’m only half listening. Once again, my little stray has me dangerously distracted.

Closing her video feed does fuck all to erase the image of her from my mind. Curled on her side with her lips slightly parted, her dark hair twisted into a braid that was practically made for my fist. I imagine winding my fingers through her hair, those eyes snapping open, then sharpening with recognition. That’s when the fire and fight would kick in– when she realized who’d crawled back through the vents to finish what he’d started.

I’d guide that vicious little mouth over my cock until the hoop piercing at my tip was visible through the skin at the hollow of her throat, hold her there until she struggled for breath. I bet she’d bite again, sinking her teeth into me, coating my shaft in blood and spit.

My fingers flex at my side, my blood surging south and my cock thickening behind my zipper as Slade continues rambling on about the irrelevant douche whose been turned into biodegradable flesh-fetti.

“C’mon, you know who I’m talking about,” Slade huffs. “His dad left the Syndicate for some bullshit job at The Registry after he got his knee blown out, remember?”