Page 69 of Reclaimed

Jersey stares at me wide-eyed, one hand drifting down to the left side of her stomach.

“I called him on his bullshit and he thought he’d pin it on me, to try to cover up his incompetence. Came at me with a knife…” I lift a hand, tracing a fingertip over the scar cutting over my left eye. “I knocked the fucker out, reported it to our Chief, and he got kicked from Syndicate. But because his father works at The Registry and sucked off the right people, he got him a job there that he wasn't qualified for.”

Her breathing grows ragged, fingers curling tightly around the edge of the counter. “What about the girl?” she asks, her voice thin.

“I forgot all about her,” I admit, grabbing my coffee and beckoning her with a flick of my head as I head for the door.

She swipes up her own mug and a half-eaten waffle, following me hesitantly out of the cabin.

Outside, the birds are chirping from the trees, morning dew still clinging to the grass. I sink down in an Adirondack chair, turning to look at her as she pulls the door closed behind us. “Recently, I learned she’d become an Asset,” I say, leveling her with a stare. “A311.”

Her mouth hinges open, hazel eyes widening. “You… you were there?”

I dip my chin in a nod, patting my thigh.

“And you knew?” she asks, voice strained as she takes a hesitant step closer. “You knew it was me?”

“Not at first,” I admit, hooking an arm around her waist and dragging her down onto my lap. I shift her sideways, draping her legs across mine. “But after I brought you in, I had a friend get me access to your files.”

“Is that why you came back?” Her spine goes rigid under my palm, her whole body subtly bracing like she’s preparing for a blow.

I stare back at her, unsure how the fuck to answer that.

The connection between us fueled my obsession, sure. Gave me another reason to keep digging, another incessant itch I couldn’t scratch. Seeing pieces of my own past in hers reminded me how this whole fucking government is designed to exploit your soul beyond recognition. Bleed the working class dry, and then laugh in their faces as they struggle to survive, looking down on them for being in the very position they’d been forced into. And then, in this mass-manufactured hell, offer them assistance that was never meant to help them– all to just sit back in their glass towers and watch as the world rots in decay beneath their fucking feet. She didn’t deserve that, but whatever it is that I feel for Jersey took root before I discovered our connection.

“Well?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest as a breeze kicks up, goosebumps pebbling across her skin.

I pick up my mug, taking a drink. “Eat your breakfast,” I grumble, staring out at the sun creeping up over the tree line.

A smile slowly spreads across her face as she takes a bite, snickering as she chews.

“What?” I deadpan.

“It’s just cute,” she muses.

A giggle bursts from her throat. She slaps a hand over her mouth to cover it, but it does fuck all to contain the sound.

Laughter normally irritates me. Coming from her, though, it’s almost… nice.

“You act all big and bad,” she snorts, “but it turns out, big bad Repo man has a conscience.”

“No I don’t,” I mutter.

“Uh-huh, sure,” she laughs. “Whatever you have to tell yourself to sleep at night.”

We sit there quietly, the birds chirping and leaves rustling in the breeze as the sun rises. An unfamiliar warmth blooms in my chest as she leans against my bare chest.

“So, why’d you kill Miller, anyway?" she asks, fingers tracing along one of my tattoos.

“I think you know,” I murmur.

Her breath hitches, smile fading as she tilts her face up to look at me.

My hand reaches up, winding her hair around my fist and yanking her head back. “Nobody touches what’s mine.”

“But I wasn’t yours,” she scoffs.

“Yeah you were,” I say, my other hand resting on the crest of her thigh. “You just didn’t know it yet.”