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He pulled back slightly, and, suddenly, I mourned the loss - mourned the feeling ofalmosttouching. He looked down at my lap, taking in the text that lay there.
“You read anything other than textbooks?” His voice was still gruff - still low, in a way it hadn’t been when he was offering me liquor and cigarettes.
“Not really,” I answered as honestly as I could, finding that my voice was a pitch higher than usual.
O’Grady moved away entirely, seating himself next to me once more as if that entiremoment between us hadn’t just happened. I blinked, orienting myself once more. He settled in, uncapping his flask as he took another sip of the liquor it stored while I sat theredumbfounded. Although, I shouldn’t have been - not when I belonged to Paul - not when I liked this man’s proximity a little too much.
“Reading isn’t just for knowledge.” O’Grady spoke, and I was almost certain that this man was about to give me whiplash.
“I’m sorry - what?”
“Reading,” he repeated himself, “it’s used for escapism, too.”
“What?” The word comes out in a garbled splutter - something, no doubt, my mother would be embarrassed of if she’d been here.
“Books. You know - novels? Stories?”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Yes, I know what abookis.” I snapped the words back at him.
“Good,Madi.” He dipped his chin once as if my irritation pleased him, somehow. “I’ll meet you back up here on Tuesday with some new reading material for you.”
Without waiting for me to reply, he rose from his seated position and walked across the rooftop,awayfrom me. His scent lingered, leaving me feeling nothing but confused as my mind raced to catch up with what had just happened. I glanced down at the book in my lap, suddenly uninterested in the knowledge that it held. Attempting to read right now would be an exercise in futility, and, so, without giving it much thought, I closed the pages and stood up. The rooftop haven I had found for myself suddenly feltlonely. I retreated to the apartment, aware of the silence awaiting me, but the difference was there I didn’tmissPaul - because I didn’tknowhim. In fact, I felt as if I knew O’Grady better than I knew Paul, which was both tellingandproblematic.
CHAPTER ELEVEN: CALL OF DUTY
O’ GRADY
I walked through the routine, flicking on the overhead lights, ensuring that the floors were polished but still weren’ttooslippery. It was always a gamble when it came to the group The Society marched through my doors. Most of the women here had never been trained - seemed frightened by the prospect of having to train at all. But then - that was just one of the ways The Society got to you - through deceptive illusion. It gave their people the belief that they somehowcaredabout their well-being - that they were taking their safety seriously. And what better way than to empower their own people?
Too bad it was bullshit.
And I was the one called upon to ensure that they swallowed down the medicinal deceit with a spoonful of sugar, courtesy of O’Grady. It was a goddamn mixing pot of pompous egos and fluttering eyelashes - a recipe for disaster. Nats should have been here - she at least knew the drill,andshe knew how to pretend like she didn’t. But, then, Nats was off canoodling with her boyfriend.One last summer. At least that was the line she was pushing, but then we all had to sell whatever bullshit line we could simply to grasp some leeway.
Raquel at least knew what she was doing - knew how to play the game, but, even then, I didn’t trust her - at least not fully.
Trust was a strenuous thing. It was dangerous. In fact, I had known more Society servants that had been killed simply because they trusted the wrong fuck - had growntoo close. Too close meant that you were a liability. To serve them meant to walk a fine line between being useful andneededand suddenly becomingtoofamiliar and deemed a liability. So far, I was walking that rope just fine, but holding myself steady was unsustainable.
I didn’t allow myself to think about the pretty Society girl I met on Friday - the one that belonged to Paul. I didn’t allow myself to rehash the way her hair seemed to pick up the hued colors of the dimmed lighting that onlyjusttouched us from the building next door. I didn’t linger on the way she inhaled - sucking in her breath at my proximity. I didn’t allow myself to remember the way she looked up at me with such curiosity in her eyes. It wasn’t simply lust - it was as if she werestudyingme, trying tounderstandme, and that in itself was disconcerting because I didn’t need any of these Society fucks looking at me closer than they needed to. There was too much riding on me flying under their radar.
Once I was satisfied that the gym was ready, I stood against the mirrored wall and waited. The mirror allowed those in servitude toseethemselves so that they could adjust their positions if necessary,andthat view was meant to empower them - remind them of the strength they held internally. At least that’s what it was supposed to do - psychologically, anyway. And for a brief flicker, I wondered how many of these Society fuckers knew that the mirror was actually two-way glass - that the entire basement - entireresorthad been set-up and rigged for those above towatchthem. I couldn’t find it within myself to feel even remotely bad for them - not when their very existence meant that The Society’s cog kept turning. Even knowing what I knew didn’t stop me from steeling my shoulders and straightening my spine with my back towards the mirror - the glass - the eyeswatching. The skin at the back of my neckpickledwith the knowledge that they were rightthere. The urge to grip my gun was reflex more than anything else because they weren’t the kind of enemy a bullet could slay. I flexed my hand, instead, shaking, if only to ignore the tingles that spread through my body with the knowledge that it could be Sarah behind the glass - she could be watching. Still, I didn’t move from my spot - didn’t flee - didn’t cower, even when my instinct screamed at me to do otherwise. I had long since learned that such reactions only made the outcome worse.
Eventually, Paul Mae made his way down the stairs and into the basement. The fucker was supposed to be here twenty minutes ago - afterall, this washisdomain, but like all things when it came to Paul,Iprepared shit for him - ran the show here as he took the recognition and glory. It shouldn’t piss me off as much as it did - and I knew thatIallowed it to piss me off, but there was something about Paul that made me want to punch him in the goddamn face. Don’t get me wrong - I wanted to punchallthese Society fucks, but my want to gut Paul was bordering on obsessive. It was probably because he was such a dick-wad. That, and the fact that he was nailing Holly daily while he had a fucking fiancée. Or maybe it was the fact that he was offered a title and a position when he hadn’t evenserved- didn’t know a goddamn thing about Military combat or war.
He walked in looking like a poster boy of what a military manshouldlook like. His gun visible, his chest expanded, his buzz cut trimmed to perfection. I hated him - hated everything about him. Still, I remained silent, knowing full well what was expected of me. He took his place beside me, his shoulder mere inches from mine. We were of similar height, but I was still bigger - still more built, because putting in the time and effort wasn’t all about show for me - it was aboutsurvival.
“We ready?” Paul asked the question as he trained his gaze straight ahead… atnothing, because no one else had arrived yet. The use of the wordweunnerved me - it shouldn’t, but it did. Because there was no fuckingwehere - there wasme-Iwas the one with the military experience -Iwas the one who designed and outlined the training program -Iwas the one who would correct stances and go through the motions of training these brainless halfwits the basics of self-defense, and thenhewould take the credit. And even that knowledge wasn’t enough for the bastard to look me in my eye when he asked his shitty question.
I simply nodded. Refusing to engage with Paul Mae any more than I had to.
It didn’t take long for the Society members in their servitude to arrive. One by one they filed in, and I watched them, tracking as they took in the bright, overhead fluorescent lights - the floor-to-ceiling mirror wall, the boxing ring on the opposite side, and the hard linoleum flooring. Upon their reflection in the mirror, some of the women already began readjusting their workout wear, flipping locks over their shoulders, preening in a way that they assumed made them desirable. Maybe they were desirable to Society men, but I couldn’t stand to be near their poison for longer than necessary. The smell of their clashing perfumes was almost overwhelming. Not even whorehouses smelled like this, which was saying something.
And where The Society women marched in, so The Society men followed. Ajax SinClaire and Joshua Penn lingered on the outskirts of the gym. There was no reason for them to be here - they were surprisingly efficient at combat training, which meant that they were simply here towatch. Only, for once, it wasn’t me they were watching, it was the members lined up for combat training. Thewomen.
The knee wobbling relief I felt only reminded me of what kind of bastard I truly was, although it was difficult to feel sorry for these women when they were part of The Society - part of the problem - part of the never-endingcontrol.
Raquel stood in the front row, offering me a quirk of her lips, reminding me that we wereallies. I still didn't trust it -trust her, but doing nothing was worse. At least with the plan in place there washope, and, fuck, it had been a long time since I’d felthopeful.
But even acknowledging that caused a spike of anxiety to shudder through my system. I could see my obituary now: his death was caused through blind hopefulness and naivety. Not that they’d even give me an obituary, with The Society, I’d be lucky if they bothered to dig me a shallow grave.
