Page 48 of Reclaimed

Slade chuckles as he cracks his knuckles and settles in at my desk. It takes him all of two minutes to find a prior version of the altered report on a cloud file. “They scrubbed the servers, but not the emergency cloud,” he says with a scoff. “Amateurs.”

He keeps working, twisting in the chair and scanning the desk. “Thumb drive?”

“What’d you find?” I ask as I pull open a drawer and hand him one.

“Martin’s entire file. Everything that was here before, and… woah.”

A fresh rush of adrenaline punches through my veins. “What?”

“Found the entire investigation into the sedition charges that got him killed. Shit, he’d been skimming money from The Registry for at least five years,” Slade says, eyes wide as he scrolls.

“Why delete it?”

“He did this smoothly, money going out in various amounts, different services, different departments.” Slade twists around. “I’m actually impressed, they probably didn’t want to leave a how-to manual for stealing billions from them.”

“That’s fucking dumb,” I grumble, my hand idly rubbing the back of my neck.

“It is The Registry,” Slade snorts. “I can look into how this happened by tracking Harris’ financial movement, registry inconsistencies…”

Tension leeches into my muscles at the thought of someone else handling my little stray. Something cold and unfamiliar crawls beneath my skin. Irritation, I decide as I tip my chin and say, “Keep looking.”

I push to my feet and pace across the room, aiming to burn off some of the fury festering inside me. “What about J– Assets?” I ask.

If he caught my slip-up, he doesn’t let on. If he did, I’m sure he’s filed it away for that big ol’ talk about Miller we’re not going to have.

“Uhh,” he murmurs, chewing his lower lip in concentration as he searches. “Harris has a bunch of properties listed, but each address lists all five Assets as residents.”

I snatch my phone up, grumbling, “Let me see.”

“You’re welcome,” he mocks, rising to his feet. “Oh stop it, I know I’m the fucking best.”

I shoot him a quick glare before my eyes return to the screen.

He moves in closer, looking over my shoulder as I flip through Harris’ list of properties, trying to pinpoint which one he might be hiding Jersey at.

“Looks like he hosts a weekly poker game,” I mumble.

“On it,” Slade replies, leaning over the desk and tapping on the keyboard. “Tomorrow night,” he confirms. “Out near Ashford Station.”

I exhale slowly through my nose, hands curling into fists at my sides.

I’ve never been one for poker, but when it comes to a hunt, the odds are always in my favor.

19

JERSEY

A311

My fingers slip beneath the pink leather band fastened around my neck, rubbing at the skin where it’s getting raw.

As if being treated like property wasn’t degrading enough, Harris– I’m sure as fuck not calling him Master– has managed to strip away what little distinction remained between person and pet by making me wear a collar attached to a leash, and nothing else.

At least it didn’t come with a tail.

Small miracles.

I’m not the only one being debased like this. Harris is hosting a poker game, and all five of his Assets have been arranged as entertainment on a low circular dais in the center of the room. White fur rugs and velour pillows cover most of the dark walnut platform, and while the rest of the room is dim and moody, a spotlight ensures our naked bodies are on full display.