Chapter 41 Part Five: Sector 4 Chapter 41: The Nina
Nate’s hands hovered over the gash on my ribs, the antiseptic stinging worse than the blade that had put it there. I jerked away before he could press the cloth to it, and his fingers slipped, smearing blood down my hip instead.
“Damn it, Nate, you patchin’ me up, or finishing what Charles started?”
He exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. “You’d be dead if it wasn’t for me.”
I laughed, though it tore at the burns on my throat. “Funny. I thought it was you they were trying to stop.”
His fingers stilled. For a second, I thought he’d walk away, smart man, but then he grabbed my chin, forcing my eyes up. “You’re not the only one who’s been betrayed.”
The lamp flickered, throwing shadows across his face, half warrior, half ghost. The same face I’d seen grinning through bloodied teeth in the wasteland. The same stubborn bastard who’d dragged me into this mess.
And yet.
His thumb brushed my split lip, so light I almost didn’t feel it. Almost.
I lunged.
Our mouths crashed together, all teeth and desperation, no finesse. He tasted like gunpowder and the cheap whisky we’d swiped from Shamus. I bit down hard enough to draw blood, and he growled, yanking me closer by the straps of my ruined binder.
“Fuck…your ribs.”
“Don’t care.” I shoved him onto his back, straddling him with a hiss as the burns on my thighs protested. His hands skated up my sides, avoiding the worst of the wounds, but I caught his wrists and pinned them above his head.
“No.” My voice was gravel. “I want to feel it.”
His pupils blew wide.
For once, he didn’t argue.
The ground groaned beneath us as I rocked against him, each movement sharp with pain and something darker, hungrier. This wasn’t love. Love was for people who hadn’t been flayed open by the world.
This was a claim. A fuck-you to the Church, to Charles, to The Sisters who’d carved their scripture into my bones.
When he finally shuddered beneath me, his breath hot against my throat, I didn’t let go. Not until my own body gave out, collapsing against him in a tangle of sweat and scars.
Silence settled, broken only by the distant drip of water in the tunnels.
Nate’s fingers traced the scars and cuts before sliding up to thread through my hair. “They’ll come for us soon,” he murmured.
I pressed my forehead to his, breathing him in. “Let them.”
After mating like starved animals, we lay tangled in each other’s arms, my head resting on his chest. For the first time in what felt like forever, I felt whole again.
“What now?” I breathed out slowly.
“Now we wait,” he replied. “I have a contact who should meet us soon, if all goes well.”
Lulled by the steady rhythm of his breathing, I drifted into the deepest sleep I’d had since arriving in New Eden, desperate, needed, and finally at peace.
I wasn’t sure if it was intuition or the faint creak of a boot that woke me, but I sensed a presence. The first thing I saw was a pair of small, slightly heeled military boots, likely a woman’s then the silk sheen of stockings leading up to a meticulously kept floral dress. Finally, I saw the face: Ida’s face, but not as I remembered it. Instead of short pink spikes, her hair was a chestnut-brown bob, framing an expression of fearless intelligence.
Nate’s steady breathing confirmed he was still asleep. Instinctively, I reached for my gun, only to remember I was unarmed. At that moment, the young woman and I locked eyes. Now she knew I was awake, we’d both seen each other.
“Ida?” I said, hopeful despite knowing she was long dead. Her expression faltered just as Nate stirred.
“Wh-, er… Nina, I presume?” he stammered. “Pleased to meet you. I’m Nate, and this is Tilly.” We untangled ourselves and stood.
“Yes, I’m Nina. I’m to be your contact here in The Hundred,” she replied, though I sensed she wanted to say more. Nate took over the conversation, but her sharp eyes never left me.
“I know your mother, Joanne, from her work as a volunteer nurse in Sector 3.”
“Yes,” Nina said. “My father mentioned you were coming. You’ll need to wear these.” She handed us wristbands resembling tiny computers. “These belong to two visiting trade diplomats from Angel Falls. You’ll pose as them while you’re here.”
Though she spoke to Nate, her gaze remained fixed on me. We fastened the bands to our wrists.
“Your clothes won’t do,” she added. “Luckily, it’s still dark, and my parents’ house isn’t far. Follow me.” Without another word, she turned and strode off at a brisk pace. We followed her through turn after turn of the dark passageways.
The whole way, Nate whispered to me, “That’s Nina, Ida’s twin sister. Her mother’s a midwife and nurse. I think you’ve met her. Her father is one of the four Thinkers of the Hundred… They owe me a big favour. But I hope things still stand after Ida’s death.”
At the mention of Ida’s death, Nina’s graceful back stiffened slightly, she could hear us whispering. Better play this straight.
Nate continued, “They’re only allowed three children here, and that’s after a special agreement. But Niels and Joanna had twin boys, can’t remember their names and then Joanna got pregnant again with twin girls. She couldn’t bear to abort them, so my father took Ida in and raised her as his own. We were like brother and sister before she died.”
Nate didn’t seem to realize Nina had heard everything, but I could tell by the tension in her movements.
Before long, we emerged through another hidden doorway into what looked like a classroom. From there, we stepped out onto a perfectly paved street, passed one more building, and were quickly ushered inside another.
Nina entered first, slipping off her boots. Nate followed suit, kicking off his shoes before stepping into the dimly lit kitchen-dining area. Since I was already barefoot, I simply trailed behind.