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Ayanna sighed and rubbed her eyes. I was practically vibrating with frustration. We were so close to a breakthrough, I could feel it, and these two were holding out on us. Kimmy dropped a hand on my wrist and squeezed, silently begging me to hold it together.

“It’s not getting inside that’s going to be the problem, Wastelander,” Ayanna finally said, avoiding my eyes. “It’s getting all of you out again in one piece.”

Chapter 7

Claire

The Mayor’s house was beautiful, even if it was eerie to walk the halls knowing the former inhabitants had been executed. It wasn’t a towering mansion like I expected, but I guessed they didn’t have as much space above ground. Still, it was outfitted with attractive finishings and lush fabrics, with soft silk sheets and velvet drapes. The main floor housed the kitchen, living room, formal dining room, formal living room, a small library, and a study that looked as though it hadn’t been used in a long time. The house was staffed with a cook and a team of cleaners who kept it spotless. They lived on the basement level; I assumed it was because that way, the Mayor and his family only had to interact with them when necessary.

I’m trapped in a den of absolute monsters, I thought, chewing my lip as Major Hamilton showed me the various rooms.

“There is video surveillance throughout the house,” Hamilton said as he showed me the library. “For the Mayor’s protection.”

“Ah, yes, I know I feel safer when my every move is recorded,” I said dully.

To my surprise, his lips twitched, but he quickly added, “Of course, the master suite is completely private, though the corridor outside it is not.”

I raised an eyebrow. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was helping me somehow. I couldn’t say how, though, and it was entirely possible that he was lying. I made a mental note to inspect the master suite for recording devices as soon as I was alone.

He eventually showed me to the master suite, after taking me on a rather boring tour of the second floor, which mostly housed an entertainment room and grand bedrooms and bathrooms I had no reason to use. The master suite was set aside from the other rooms, with elaborately carved double doors that must’ve cost a small fortune.

Inside, the bedroom was every bit as grand as one might expect—not unlike the apartment I’d previously stayed in—with a giant four-poster bed; a small separate sitting area with a sofa, a cushy chair, and a bookcase; and a door that led to an ensuite bathroom. Another glass door on the opposite side of the room led to a balcony that overlooked a small rose garden below. A trellis of roses snaked up the wall, beautifying the old stone and giving the house more character than one would expect. Most compound housing was rather sterile in comparison.

I stepped onto the balcony, looking out on the garden. It was a pretty view, even though when I turned my head, I could only see the iron fence that enclosed the yard and the street beyond it. Not especially private, but then, I’d already been told that outside this room, everything I did was being recorded, so it didn’t matter much.

“Will this be alright?” Hamilton asked behind me, as though what I thought had any bearing on anything.

Still, I turned to him and nodded. “The garden is beautiful.”

“You’re welcome to sit out there whenever you like,” he replied. “A gardener comes every week, so it’s well-maintained.”

“Of course it is,” I muttered, then added, “I’d like to bathe now, so if there’s nothing else—”

“You have an appointment this afternoon with a stylist,” Hamilton interjected. “The Sire has also requested you have dinner with him.”

My shoulders slumped. How was I going to face the man that had put me in that horrid prison, who’d tortured me into acquiescence with whatever monstrous plans he undoubtedly had?

As though sensing my distress, Hamilton quickly added, “But until then, you’re free to do as you please as long as you don’t leave the grounds. I’ll be downstairs in the study if you need me.”

I sighed. “Thanks, I suppose.”

He retreated without waiting for a response, shutting the double doors behind him. I stared after him. A stylist. How they could schedule one so quickly was a mystery…except then I remembered the full wardrobe that had been waiting for me in the underground apartment. Someone had chosen them, and I doubted Julius would concern himself with such a menial task.

I sighed as I walked to the bathroom, shedding my putrid clothes as I went, resigned to whatever happened next.

“We have work to do, but you’re not a hopeless case.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved to hear that,” I bit back, unable to contain my snark. “Can I get my robe back now?”

I was standing, stark naked, on a pedestal that the stylist—a strange, birdlike woman named Polly Holiday—had brought with her. She was a short woman who wore enormous platform heels, platinum blond hair, and a dress and wrap that looked like the designer had tried to include as many colours as physically possible. Her lips were painted a shocking pink that matched her nails.

She was ostensibly there to fit me for a dress. However, she’d insisted I strip down so she could ‘examine’ me, whatever that meant, and when I’d refused, she threatened to tell Julius. Unwilling to go back to the White Room, I’d cursed at her and then done it, crossing my arms over my breasts, which she had already deemed too small. Apparently, my nose was also too small, my eyes weren’t her preferred shade of green, and my hips were too wide, throwing off all my proportions given my small breasts. Finally, as if it were the last damning bit of evidence that I was entirely undesirable, she declared that my physique was too toned to be feminine.

“The men like a softer girl these days,” she’d said with a pitying cluck of her tongue, as if I should care what the men of the Delta thought of me.

Polly’s sharp criticisms came dangerously close to the things my mother had always said about me: that I was plain, unremarkable, and generally not as attractive as her or my sister, Holly. You really should think about the waist reduction and breast enhancement, dear, she’d said, just a month before she and her cult destroyed our home. Otherwise, Neil may look elsewhere for his…gratification.

“Sorry, I didn’t think of that out in the Wasteland, where most people struggle for food,” I spat out, my patience gone. “Our priority isn’t looking nice for our next gala.”