Page 78 of Red Marked

It feels like maybe there could actually be a future, and that means something.

26

Flint

The next day…

Two males in two days.

Pryce shook my hand on the pad this afternoon when we came in. A happy Council means a happy Pryce. I hope this keeps him off my ass for a while.

He has signed off on the new system, which we’ll implement when I get back from my days off. That should bring him a couple more patients to play with.

It should feel like a win, and it does, but it also poses a threat to the females living in those mountains. It’s a win on one end and a loss on the other. The clock is ticking louder and faster than it was before.

Every male we bring through that gate is another chance of them being exposed. Thankfully, the rehabilitation process is slow, and Quake hasn’t said so much as one word since that day he spoke to me. But it’s only a matter of time.

Every capture is a good day for the program and a bad day for Star’s people. I’m the one who has to keep bringing them in.

I let myself into my apartment and lock the door behind me.

Once again, something smells fucking delicious. I get the scent of meat, onions, and garlic. My stomach growls. I haven’t eaten since I had a protein bar at midday.

I could almost get used to coming home to a cooked meal every day.

Star is at my desk with her back to me, and the glow of the monitor on her face. She doesn’t turn around. She lifts a hand.

“Hi, Flint.”

“And?” I put my shit down on the counter. “Any luck?”

“It took me forever.” She scrolls. “I mean, the accident with Halleron wasn’t big news, especially with every news outlet covering the vaccination center blowing up. But I found a tiny article after hours and hours of searching. It only came out just over a week after the accident happened. My eyes feel like they are bleeding at this point.” She gives a little laugh.

“Sorry…shit.” I walk across the room and stand behind her chair.

She laughs again. “What? No…it’s been good. I enjoyed it. It feels good to be doing something.”

She’s wearing one of Rift’s summer dresses. Yellow, with thin straps. It’s short and rides up her tanned thighs. The color makes her skin look like it’s been dipped in gold, and her eyes are bluer than I’ve ever seen them. Her almost-black hair hangs long down her back.

Holy shit, she’s gorgeous.

I put my eyes on the screen and breathe through my mouth. She’s been using my body wash, but underneath it she still smells like honey.

“Here.” She taps the screen with a fingernail. “It’s in the Mistveil Sun on page seven. Four lines under a piece about the harbor festival. It’s tiny. There isn’t even a picture or anything.”

I read it twice. A tragic accident on the coast road. A dragon came down out of the sky onto a private vehicle, killing the driver on impact. The dragon, a Mistveil City resident named Tank, sustained injuries. He was hospitalized overnight. Halleron was killed on impact. It was quickly ruled a tragic accident. No charges were brought against Tank.

“Tank.” I straighten. “That’s his name? Who would name their kid Tank?”

“Who knows?” she says. “Maybe he was a big baby.”

“I suppose so.”

“Anyway,” she says. “I’d hoped there wouldn’t be too many Tanks living in Mistveil City. Turns out there are eleven.”

“Eleven?” I shake my head. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope.” She opens a second window. There are eleven profiles laid out in a grid. “I spent most of the afternoon stalking them on social media. I wasn’t sure what I was looking for at first. This one has nothing. Not a single account.” She points. “But he’s ninety-two, so I don’t think he’s our male.”