The Alpha’s corpse had been confiscated, she’d been taken away, and each time Corday had fought his way into her sickroom to see her, Claire had been in a coma, surrounded by armed guards, savaged and only breathing by ventilator.
Standing as Premier, Dane extolled Claire’s vital role in the resistance, advocating for the woman as much as she reasonably could without inviting riots. As the weeks carried on and survivors began to slowly recover, more stepped forward to speak for her. Strangers holding her flyer testified that she’d been their inspiration, claimed the Omega had offered her strength for the entire city.
That did not stop Premier Dane’s soldiers from taking her away.
Dane refused to speak with him on the matter. It took Corday six months to find what they had done with her, petitioning any member of the hastily scraped together government who would listen, demanding to see his friend. He stirred up trouble until the Premier had to assure the torn public that Claire O’Donnell, war criminal, was not being mistreated.
But Corday was about to judge that with his own eyes.
The location of her imprisonment was classified, yet there Corday waited, Dane at his side in the only place under the Dome that was still warm. There were manicured lawns and stunning architecture, a quiet corner of the only functioning region above ground crafted into Claire’s new prison.
It was a location Corday knew.
All this time, Dane had kept Claire in the Premier’s Sector, out of the grime of the Undercroft, and hidden away where no one could touch her. And not only her, but many Omegas who would never survive the close, dirty quarters trapped with the masses underground.
The North Wing’s barred doors were pulled open, and inside Corday saw a place of beauty. There were so many windows that light drenched everything, and though there were armed guards, they seemed employed to keep people out, not force them to stay. Everything was clean, the furniture rich, an Alpha doctor stood waiting to escort the Premier and her guest to the Omega.
The man in the white coat glanced suspiciously at the unwanted visitor.
To Corday, the entire thing was awkward, backward.
Her door was a heavy oak thing, carved and weighty on its hinges, the last barrier Corday would have to cross to get to her. Premier Dane unlocked the panel and pushed it in, the robust Alpha female moving before them to announce her arrival in a jovial voice, nothing at all like the tone in which she’d greeted Corday.
“Good afternoon, Miss O’Donnell. An old friend has come to see you.”
And then there she was. Sitting in an upholstered chair, her face turned towards the nearest window, looking out at the surrounding greenery and nearby trees. But she did not move, not even a tick, when Corday stepped nearer.
He knelt at her side, looking over her body for some sign of mistreatment or damage. There was no bruising or sign of neglect, but it was clear from the glassy faraway stare in her eyes she was highly sedated, and that alone was very telling.
Taking her hand, Corday called to her. Green eyes shifted so slowly it seemed unnatural.
“What have you done to her?” Corday growled to Dane, refusing to look away before Claire might recognize him.
“Miss O’Donnell is recovering from severe trauma under the best possible care,” Premier Dane replied, tone irritated.
Turning his head towards his old comrade, Corday leveled her with a disbelieving snarl, “She is drugged out of her mind. Afraid she was going to tell me something? What is going on here?”
The Beta’s voice had risen louder and Claire seemed to wake, if only for a moment. Her little fingers toyed with his ring and she whispered, “This was my mother’s.”
Corday forced the anger from his face and gave her an encouraging purr. “Yes, Claire, it was.”
“I gave it to Corday.”
“You did.” The Enforcer nodded.
It was as if she could not register the Beta in question was speaking, continuing as if talking to herself. “So he would not forget me. He saved Thólos.”
Lightly taking her chin between his forefinger and thumb, Corday lifted her face so she might find his eyes. “I am Corday, Claire. I am here. I came to visit you.”
The woman seemed as if she had no idea what was going on, leaning closer as if to share a secret. “I still hear him you know, purring in the room with me. Sometimes I feel him stroke my hair.”
Corday fought not to draw back in disgust, not to let his eyes widen even fractionally. In a gentle voice he explained, squeezing her hand as he smiled, “Shepherd is dead, Claire. You don’t have to be afraid of him anymore.”
“I want to go outside.”
It was the doctor lingering back by the door who spoke. “That can be arranged at once, Miss O’Donnell.”