TRIGGER WARNING for sexual assault. As stated at the beginning of the book, nothing graphic will be described. But feel free to skip to the second chapter break.

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I'd run for my life too many times in eighteen years.

I'd run from demons, monsters, and men. From grief. From heartbreak. From authorities. But never in my life had I run so hard for someone else.

Please be okay. Please let me find you with a bloody fist and a rat missing teeth.

Please, please, please.

The world blurred around me as I sprinted to the gates of Sidney's property, and I tasted iron.

A pair of military horses waited outside his luxurious stone house, each beast sporting hefty saddlebags and camping packs. One horse was ponied to the other, permitting a single rider, and my throat closed up when it occurred to me what—and whom—that second horse was intended for.

Had Sidney really planned to drug me, drag me across the Gorge, and broker a peace deal with Regulas?

Had he expected me to simply accept my fate come morning? Or did he have enough drugs on hand to ensure that the next time I woke up, I was back in that grimy palace dungeon?

The fool had left his front door unlocked, and I rushed into his cold, pristine home. A lamp in the foyer illuminated the empty kitchen and living room, and as my gaze lifted to the stairwell and the flickering candlelight beyond, pure dread burrowed into my stomach.

I suddenly remembered what the female prisoner had said to me that day in the Ground. She'd accused a Court member of assaulting her sister, and they'd thrown her in jail before she could ruin his life—and before the truth could spare another soul.

Shaking with terror, I scrambled up the stairs two at a time, rounded the hallway corner, and burst into the first bedroom I came across.

But the scene before me made my bones freeze over, and the air whooshed out of me in one horrified exhale.

What I saw inside that room killed something youthful in my heart. Something I'd clung to my entire life—a kind of denial that enabled me to live among, fight among, and die among men so easily. Something that allowed me to see my comrades as brothers, to sleep so soundly in my tent without Will or Tom there to stand guard. But that hope had shattered to pieces tonight.

And so had my pacifism.

Rage ripped through me so fast, I nearly lost all sense of control. But as unstable as I felt, there was no mistaking my target. Both spirits wanted one thing, and one thing only, and I slammed my hand to the wall to grant them their wish.

White mottled my vision, and thirty years of images tackled my brain. Then Sidney's limp body collapsed against Valerie's, and I instantly knew what I'd done.

I didn't have to check his pulse to know his wretched heart would never beat again, and perhaps I should have felt conflicted after murdering someone with their back turned. Perhaps my lack of restraint should have troubled me.

But in that moment, all that bubbled to the surface was good riddance.

When I found her, Valerie was barely conscious, and the drug had essentially paralyzed her, but I'd never forget the way her teary, fractured eyes latched onto mine, almost like she was begging me to lie to her. Begging me to tell her it hadn't happened.

We swapped clothes so she'd never have to touch her favorite dress again, then I moved her downstairs and forced her to drink a few glasses of water to combat the drug's effects.

After she'd thrown up most of the toxins, she was able to walk again, and I immediately got her the hell out of there, leaving Sidney belly-up on his bedroom floor. And now, a few hours later, she sat under an orphanage showerhead, crying it out and scrubbing herself raw—desperate to cleanse herself of his touch, desperate to erase his permanence.

Standing guard outside the communal bathroom, I leaned against the door and glared into empty space.

I hated myself for not getting there sooner. For moping over Will's absence instead of paying attention to Valerie's whereabouts. For not seeing through the façade that monster erected from day one.

But beneath the guilt, anger boiled and whistled and screamed. Anger at Sidney. Anger at Claus and Grismond for not questioning his intentions, for seeing nothing wrong with a sober man escorting a drunk woman home. Anger at the men I knew for assuming Val and I were safe simply because we were soldiers, because we were liked, and because Aimes was charming and widely respected.

This never should have happened. Valerie wasn't supposed to know this pain.

But it did, and now she had.

The archer emerged from the bathroom a while later, and her numb, hollow expression sent a jagged blade through my heart.

"We should go see Torian," I whispered, but she shook her head.

"Not now. I just want to sleep."

I searched her face, barely recognizing the woman who stood before me. "Okay. Let's go back to your tent."

She hesitated. "There's something I need first. While we're in the city."

I glanced at those wounded brown eyes and despised the humiliation they carried. That was one emotion that never, ever belonged there, not on Valerie.

"I..." She paused, failing to find the words she needed. "I'm worried that..."

My stomach dropped to the floor when I realized what she was trying to say, and I completely understood her cautiousness. "I'll handle it."

She looked at me, wary and confused. "But..."

"I'll handle it," I assured her, and she swallowed.

"Okay."

I moved mechanically in Valerie's wrinkled dress, forcing myself to analyze buildings and cobblestones and distinct smells and sounds. Trying to ignore the river of emotions coursing beneath the surface, one storm away from a disastrous flood. 

If you fall apart, he wins, a voice warned.

He's dead, another recalled. You can't beat a dead man.

I wandered down the narrow streets of the business district, pausing to ask a few people for directions—then disregarding their looks of pity and disapproval.

When I arrived at the two-story building covered in dead ivy, I knocked on the wooden door, unsure what to expect. If my contact wasn't here, I had no idea where to look next. Siren would probably have answers, but I wasn't ready to explain myself—or unveil something that wasn't mine to share.

Seconds later, a stout redhead answered the door with ruby cheeks and a scrutinizing gaze. "We're not open for another hour."

"Sorry. I'm just...I'm looking for Leah."

She narrowed her eyes. "Leah?"

"I'd like to ask her a question," I explained, then lowered my voice. "No one followed me here."

That seemed to assuage her concerns, although I'm sure my established hatred for the government helped my case. She tilted her head, beckoning me to enter, and I slipped inside as she swiftly shut the door behind us.

Inside, wooden shelves covered every inch of wall space. They displayed rows of glass jars and ceramic pots filled with sorted grains, leaves, flowers, and twigs. The owners had boarded up the windows as well, eliminating any source of natural light. Instead, four water-powered lanterns cast a warm, inviting glow from each corner of the room. And, to my immense delight, the whole place smelled like a wildflower meadow.

"Customer!" the woman bellowed, producing a decibel level I did not expect from such a small human.

The ceiling creaked, and then a familiar blond woman descended the stairs wearing an apron. She'd grown her hair out a few inches since I'd seen her last, enough so her bangs covered the top half of her face tattoo, and she'd put on a healthy amount of weight. Apparently, prison had aged her beyond her years, too. She'd looked thirty-something down there, but now she appeared even younger than Tom. 

Her eyes hadn't changed, though. They were still kind, witty, and unafraid.

"I thought you left Havenbrooke with the others," I admitted.

Any suspicions she harbored appeared to vanish the moment she recognized me. "I couldn't. There were too many people here who needed me."

I could only imagine.

"Do you see a lot of customers?" Seeking her help could land someone a life sentence in the Ground, at least under previous leadership. It was risky for a woman to venture here for any reason, despite the shop's primary role as an apothecary.

"Even with government subsidies, there will always be parents who can't afford to have another child. Especially at a time like this," she said. "Preventative care is inelastic."

"And what about the clients who aren't looking for prevention?" I asked, watching her face darken a little. "Are they still coming in, even with the military in charge?"

"Men are still men, aren't they?" She shrugged, as if that wasn't the most devastating sentence she could have uttered. "Our society might be changing, but it still prioritizes the unborn. It doesn't matter how a woman is impregnated if it means another cog in the wheel."

Her words made me feel sick to my stomach, as if my whole environment had become toxic overnight. As if every man around me was suddenly poisonous.

And it wasn't like I hadn't seen this ugly facet of our society before, the young women disappearing at random, the unclaimed pregnancies blamed on female promiscuity and overdue marriage contracts. It was as easy to spot a woman robbed of her choice as it was an unwanted child.

I'd heard enough stories to know the costs of termination—the Council had made sure of that—but now, having witnessed the crime that led to such a decision, I found every forced birth, prison sentence, and death penalty a million times worse.

My entire life, I'd refused help and protection from my male peers, afraid it might perpetuate their misconceptions about women. But all that did was convince them I was a living weapon, not a teenage girl, when in reality, I'd only been one drink away from total helplessness.

This morning, I'd come face to face with my own vulnerability. And Ve'Rah Daa or not, I could no longer afford to act invincible.

"What is it you need from me, Kingsley?" Leah asked quietly, plucking me from my devastating spiral.

"Medicine."

She gestured to the large chalkboard on the partition wall. "We offer a range of herbal tinctures and ointments."

"...I don't think what I need is up there."

Her brow creased, but she didn't appear all that surprised. "Before or after?"

"...After."               

She disappeared into the kitchen without another word, and when she reemerged two minutes later, she carried a small vial in either hand. "Drink one this morning, and the other before you go to bed tonight," she advised. "I also added a bit of pain relief, just in case."

I stared at the olive-green liquid for a beat, then slowly met her gaze. "How much do I owe you?"

I didn't have much to offer, really. As part of the federal army, my food and necessities were taken care of, and Rover gave me a weekly allowance for personal expenses. But with our civilization falling apart, my salary was basically nonexistent, and I didn't feel comfortable tapping into Tom's savings.

Not yet.

Leah's smile was warm, but I could tell it cut her open every time someone walked through that door asking for a little green tincture. "Take it, free of charge. Consider it a debt repaid."

I bowed my head in thanks and stiffly moved for the door, hating how routine this was for her, hating how a choice so dire and personal could ever be proscribed.

"Don't blame yourself, kid," she said as I reached for the doorknob. "Shame will eat out your insides like a rat fleeing fire."

Too bad it already had, and I wasn't even the victim in this scenario.

"It's what society wants you to think. That it was your fault," she said, her eyes stern. "But it's not something you did. It's something that happened to you. And you survived it. Understand?"

I nodded and silently left the shop, wishing those words weren't meant for Valerie.

Wishing they weren't meant for anyone.

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A/N: As much as I love writing the fun and idealistic dynamics between male and female characters, this story is also a dystopian tale. And while I loathe SA being used as a plot device, I think Al needed to witness the darker side of the patriarchy to fully understand the complexities of reform. To lead, she needed to experience it.

But my heart aches for Valerie (it was so hard to put her through this) and I promise I'll deliver her final story arc in a way that does her character justice ❤️

On the bright side, only one more month until we're back to biweekly updates.