Chapter Ten
Whi
te-knuckling the railing, far above the faded, red nonslip carpet gracing the gangplank, Eugenia strained against the heat of the captain at her back. Saw the way his hands banked hers, and screamed.
Nothing could be worse!
The favor—a few minutes of her time, he’d said.
Where no one could see the pair of them together. Where their view was unobstructed. Where he pinned her mercilessly. Where she was engulfed in a larger, stronger body. Not out of intimacy, but to keep her from running away. Or jumping to her death when she began to panic.
Because the ship’s lights were on.
And though it was a long, long way down, a familiar voice carried up. “Please! I beg you! Please let me back in!”
Even from the distance, it was clear who it was.
Brooke—emaciated, limping, and covered in filthy rags—staggered toward the lake, waving her arms. Beseeching the waiting men for help.
Wretched. Broken. Sick.
With their guns on their backs, the men were at the ready. Prepping a dinghy to fetch the pleading woman before she might accidentally drown in her fervor to stamp through the lake and get back on the ship.
“NO!” Eugenia screamed.
And screamed.
What was this life but endurance past pain?
But the captain had clamped his hand over her mouth, her muffled warning lost no matter how hard she fought.
And she fought with all she had. Kicking, throwing elbows, biting at his palm to warn the girl away. That it was a trick. That real life was out there.
Why would she come back to this?
She should RUN!
But his arm, like iron around her waist, was so much bigger and stronger.
He caught her strikes, took her wrists in hand, as if he’d done it thousands of times.
Just like he had with the other women tied to his bed so he might fuck them from behind and they might sleep on his couch.
Brooke was fetched. She was carried on board.
The show was over.
Subdued by muscle, mouth freed, hate roaring, tears flowed in an excruciating, embarrassing way. “Why would she come back? At least one good place is out there! All the bad places had been marked on that map! She has to explain!”
Though his grip was unbreakable, his voice was infinitely soft. “Brooke won’t be coming back to Level 15.”
“I... I don’t understand.” Could hardly even breathe. Couldn’t look at him. Only at those boots. At the deck and her splayed fingers, white as death, scratching as if they might find something to hold.
A kiss lingered on her temple before he said, “You won’t like it. You won’t like why Level 9 exists. Which is precisely why you’ve never asked about babies or children. Because you are so close to growing up, and so scared to face it. You’ve blinded yourself to the obvious.”
“Stop talking!”
“Neil told you that first day. The men don’t get to hold the babies, but they do get to breed them, provide for them. Know that there is a future. A future the men know they will never have. The best they can do is make the women comfortable, feed them good food.”