Broken Wings (Cruel and Beautiful World, Book One 1) (3 page)

There were plenty of citizens in Utopia who weren't Outsiders but had still ventured outside at one time or another. After the battle in Eagle Center, Saevus had gathered up as many of these people as he could, killing most but putting the ones he let live through a brutal quarantine. Definitely not standard. Anyone who went through it never came out the same. Deryn had been through it three times.

Those who had evaded capture fled underground. Before Utopia was built, their ancestors had lived in a string of protective tunnels. People hid there, small groups known as Tunnelers moving daily to evade S.U.R.G.E.'s - Saevus's Utopian Robotic Guardians for the Elite. Robots that scanned the tunnels for human life. They were black and the size of two fists with fluttering wings. Virtually indestructible, at least with the Tunnelers' weapons, and designed to kill if necessary.

Something tickled her ear. She winced and pushed whatever it was away. It was the old woman moving some loose hairs out of her face.

"You don't look well," she said with a frown.

Deryn glanced down at her bruised arms hanging out of her tattered coat and sighed. Over the years she had always been tortured, that was a given, but this last place had really done a number on her.

Apparently, the only reason the Guardian had chosen Deryn was because her brother had recently been killed when the Outsiders broke into Utopia and raided his home. Since she couldn't get revenge on who she wanted, she got it on Deryn instead.

"Nothing I can't handle," said Deryn, even though she knew she needed medical attention. There was definitely some internal bleeding after everything she'd gone through. Her ribs hurt the most. Sometimes the pain pressed so tightly against them that she couldn't even breathe.

Trying hard to focus her attention elsewhere, Deryn didn't notice the old woman take something out of her pocket until it was shoved into her hands. It was covered by a green handkerchief but she didn't need to unwrap it to know what it was. She turned to the old woman with wide eyes.

"W-what -"

"You need this more than I do. Get out of here. Find your family and help them set us free."

"I can't take this," said Deryn, handing the gift back to her.

"But you must," said the woman. "Many of us believe the reason the Resistance hasn't started an official war is because your father fears for your life. If you escape then he will have no reason not to fight."

Deryn was still staring at the handkerchief. "That's easier said than done."

"And I have complete faith that you will succeed."

The left corner of her mouth twitched upwards. "Where did you get this?"

"Slaves like me are not watched as closely as slaves like you."

The van came to a halt. Deryn slipped the item into her coat pocket and looked up. Everyone in the van was watching her. Hopefully, none of them would speak of this. That would be the end of them both.

As always, Deryn stared out the window to see where they were. It was a large house on one of the wealthiest streets in Inner City. She had been here many times before and knew instantly that this would be her last stop of the night. She was, after all, his favorite.

"I have an extra special treat for you, sir," said the driver, opening the door to the back of the van and letting the Guardian have a look.

Soren Tash poked his head inside. He didn't look around for long before his eyes fell upon Deryn. They lit up with his smile. "If it isn't my precious Outsider. You've returned to me at last. How long has it been since you were here? I'd say at least a year."

Deryn had no idea how long it had been. It didn't seem like an entire year had gone by since she last resided at his house - mainly because he always found her no matter who she belonged to - but she trusted his concept of time much more than hers.

Before he could say another word, Deryn stood up and walked out of the van, not even bothering to wait for the driver to come and get her.

"Eager one you got 'ere," said the driver.

"Yes, she always is," Soren said proudly.

Deryn tried to step down, but he grabbed her by the waist and put her on the ground. Her body winced at the touch, unable to handle such pressure.

He frowned and stroked a bruise on her cheek. "Someone has not taken proper care of you."

Deryn moved away. She looked back at the old woman one last time before the door was shut and locked. Following Soren, with the driver right behind her, Deryn took a good look at the old van. It had belonged to their ancestors long ago and was refurbished for the sole reason of the slave trade. All hover-cars and bikes these days were designed with built-in trackers. Several years earlier, the Outsiders had hacked into Utopia's computer system and tracked one of the hover-van's carrying slaves in an attempt to find Deryn. Unfortunately, they had tracked the wrong one and old, wheeled vehicles, which could not be tracked, had been used from then on.

"Fontaine!" Soren called as soon as the front door was closed.

A young, well-dressed man with sallow skin, a shaved head and dead eyes instantly appeared in the foyer. "Yes, Master?"

"Go and fetch the other slave," ordered Soren. "I want to get this trade over with quickly so the night may proceed."

The young man nodded and hurried off.

Soren looked at Deryn and scanned her from head to foot. "Switch her collar to me and remove her binds," he said, motioning down to her chained wrists and ankles. "I would like to get this coat off of her so I can see the damage."

The driver undid her shackles first, then lifted her hair and pressed his thumb on her collar. When it recognized his fingerprint, the collar's light blinked red. Soren pressed his thumb against it next until it blinked blue.

"
New ownership approved
," said a robotic voice. Deryn hated those words. Even after all this time, the voice still made her sick.

Once that was done, the driver went as far as removing Deryn's coat and hanging it in the closet by the door. She stared after it longingly, wishing she had kept the item on her instead of in her coat's pocket.

Soren walked around so he was facing Deryn, rubbing his hands up and down her arms and making her shudder. He found his way to her hips and lifted her shirt slightly, taking a peek at the bruises underneath.

"Clearly, your last owner did not know what they had. This cannot be fixed overnight."

Footsteps sounded in the hallway. Fontaine walked back in the room with a haughty-looking girl behind him.

"I thought you said I could stay?" she said, crossing her arms and sneering at Deryn.

"That was before I knew what was waiting for me in the van."

"
Her
? This beaten whore?"

Soren's brow furrowed.

"Master, please, I'm the better choice. No one can make you feel the way I -"

He swung the back of his hand, smacking her so hard in the face that she fell to the floor. As she attempted to stand, he smacked her again, causing a loud cracking sound. Her nose began to bleed. All Deryn could do was watch as this girl screamed, trying to grab Soren's feet before he could strike again.

"Master, why?" she cried once she successfully had her face buried in his leg.

"You will
not
speak to her in that manner again," he snarled through gritted teeth. "Do you hear me?"

"Yes," she answered, crying harder. "I'm so sorry, Master. Please, I love you. Let me stay with you!"

"No," he spat. "You will never stay in this house again."

"No! Master!"

She reached for his arms, but Soren stepped back and prepared his free foot to kick her in the face. The girl closed her eyes and waited for the hit but, before he could, Deryn reached her hand out and put it on his chest.

"That's enough," she said, keeping his gaze as he slowly lowered his foot. "I take no offense."

Even though Deryn didn't want to see this girl struck again, she felt little pity for slaves who fell in love with their owners. Of course, she doubted it was really about that. Out of all the Guardians who participated in the slave trade, Soren was, if nothing else, a safe bet. He didn't torture the slaves he took in, though he did do many other things to them. Things that some might consider worse than torture. But as long as his wife wasn't there - and she so rarely was - his house was one of the better ones to be in.

"Fine," said Soren, shaking her off of his foot. He reached down and touched his thumb to the back of her collar while she cried. It beeped and blinked red. "Take her away. I never want to see her face again."

She continued to cry as the driver put Deryn's old binds on her wrists and ankles, pressing his thumb on the back of her collar until it blinked blue.

"
New ownership approved
."

He pulled her roughly to her feet. Soren took Deryn's hand and led her to the living room as the driver and the slave exited.

"Fontaine, fetch our guest some medicine for her wounds, and call the physician. I would like him to come by tomorrow and treat her properly. We must nurse her back to health immediately."

"Yes, Master Tash," said Fontaine before walking off.

"Let me get a good look at you," said Soren, settling Deryn in front of him and trying to remove her shirt.

She grabbed the ends and pulled it back down. "Don't."

"But I need to see the extent of the damage, my precious Outsider."

Deryn cringed as he spoke the name he always called her. "No. I don't want you to see."

Soren frowned. "Difficult, as always." He grabbed her arm, making her wince. His frown deepened. "Wait here," he said before exiting the room.

The moment he was gone, Deryn ran over to the closet with a limp she only then became aware of and found her coat. She dug through the pockets and pulled out the item the old woman had given her. After removing it from the handkerchief, she stuck it in the front of her pants and pulled her shirt down to cover it. Then she shut the closet door and hurried back to the living room as best she could.

Soren returned a minute later with a bottle of blue liquid. Deryn turned her back on him. She heard him open the bottle and pour its contents on his hands. Then he came up behind her and began stroking her arms.

"What are you doing?" she asked, getting goosebumps on every spot he touched with the cold liquid.

"Numbing you," he answered. "There is no way you'll be completely healed by tonight and I still plan on reuniting properly." He moved her hair aside and ran his tongue along her neck.

"Stop it, Tash."

"Oh, my precious Outsider, won't you call me Master just this once?"

Deryn tensed. "Never."

Soren chuckled. "All these years and you're still so impossible to break." He moved his hands into her shirt and ran them along her bare stomach, just missing the tip of the item poking out of her pants.

Deryn sharply grabbed his wrist and pushed it away. "Remove your hands from me."

"And if I don't?" he asked, seizing her other arm and twisting her around so she was facing him. "You forget that for the next three months you belong to me." He lifted his hand and used a single finger to stroke her cheek. "I have also spoken to my father-in-law about possibly keeping you permanently. If he decides not to execute you then he says he'll consider it."

Deryn recoiled and moved away from his touch. He just smiled and ran his fingers through her hair.

She loathed him.

Perhaps the only thing more pathetic than a slave who fell for her abusive owner was a Guardian who fell for his Outsider slave. Soren would never admit it aloud but he was in love with her. He'd been intrigued by her when he was one of her trainers at Eagle Center, but he hadn't felt something deeper until she was captured and he'd had the pleasure of having her for the first time. Nothing revolted Deryn more than seeing that yearning look in his eyes whenever she was near.

"I said remove your hands from me," she repeated, her words slow and harsh. "This is your last warning."

Soren smirked. "Make me." He pulled her head inward and forced his lips on hers.

In one swift movement, Deryn bit down hard on his bottom lip and pulled out the hidden item.

"Ow! Fuck!"

Soren stepped back, readying his hand to slap her when he felt something plunge into his stomach. He gasped and looked down, finally removing his hands from her to hold them over the bleeding hole in his center. His eyes moved to Deryn's hand, watching as the blood,
his
blood dripped from the knife she held. Then they moved up to her face, her eyes fierce as she stared back at him. He had never seen such fire in her before, or he had chosen not to. Either way, until this moment part of him truly believed that she cared for him as much as he cared for her. But he'd been wrong. So, so wrong.

"W-why?" he asked in a choked voice as blood continued to pour from his gut.

"I told you to remove your hands from me and you didn't listen," she spat. "I don't want you to touch me. I've never wanted you to touch me. And now you will
never
touch me again."