Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
It was then Maryanne dared fully look at him, finding Shepherd’s eyes were still not on the screen but on her. Gazing in a way that let her know he had not glanced at the intel… not once.
Swallowing audibly, Maryanne forced her features into something Follower-like in an attempt to give him what she thought he was looking for. Fighting the instinctive bitchy twist of her mouth… because one wrong expression and she would be a corpse. “As my reports have shown, three weeks ago, the more powerful families of Central were either at each other’s throat, cowing to Commodore Havel in a bid for power, or panicking over the loss of influence with the new regime.”
She dared add in a gesture, a little bit of flare and Maryanne-style showmanship. “Perfect, right? Their disorder kept the Dome stable while… what, the forty followers you handed to your best friend tried to reorganize centuries of society with a sledgehammer approach?”
It was more than exhaustion that drove Maryanne to dare such a tone with Shepherd; it was outright disagreement. A bone-deep conviction that they had made the wrong play. Because if Jules died, she died. “You overthrew Thólos with thousands of men trained in the Undercroft. Had decades to prepare. Bernard Dome is different. Forty followers, a few vials of Red Consumption, and no time to plan is literally going to see your friend murdered.”
Shoving lank, stringy, unwashed hair off her face, flickering monitors highlighted the dark circles under Maryanne’s eyes. “I tried to tell you. I tried to tell him! I risked my life to openly disagree with something stupid weeks ago. But nooo—no one listens to Maryanne. What the fuck does she know? Well, buddy, I know sex, and I know the kind of scumbags you’re dealing with. I used to scam them all the time back in Thólos.”
There it was, the deep well of her resentment for this man, for this unfair situation, this prison where she had the god-like ability to watch everyone else live their lives while she was trapped behind an unlocked door. “Jules took it too far when he stripped Central of their Beta sex workers and replaced favored servants with men and women who were about to be terminated for aging out of the system. He insulted them. And you know what that did to a bunch of mean, horny Alpha males? I’d like to say they are not taking it out on their wives… but I can’t. Because I have had to watch that so I can make reports on who is violating whom. Why, you ask? Because families are now arguing over marital rape and contractual physical obligations. But one thing they all agree on is that this would not be an issue if the Beta slaves were returned… or if Jules would give them Greth’s Omegas. Which Jules is not supplying. They want complacent pretty slaves, Shepherd. Or, they want Omegas they can exploit.”
Remaining perfectly, infuriatingly still, Shepherd asked, “Your point?”
Shrill words flowed, something that sounded an awful lot like actual emotional investment in this never-ending assignment, Maryanne throwing her hands up to the sky. “Never mess with the pleasures of those you would manipulate! I know you know that. I mean, shit, I watched how you played with Thólos. Central losing their favorite sex toys drove these pigs to work together over pussy. Now they want him dead badly enough to convince themselves they can outsmart Jules before he can unleash the virus. And some of them are shrewd enough to realize they need to cut off the satellite feed so you—and by you, I mean me—won’t be able to interfere from Greth Dome. And they can, Shepherd. Do you hear what I am saying to you? They will, in a matter of hours.” Pressing her fingers together to make a point, she snarled, “They are this close!”
Hand flying over the console once again, Maryanne pulled up another feed, showing blueprints being passed between members of what appeared to be Bernard’s emergency response team. “They’re coordinating. This group is already planning containment protocols and reprogramming which doors will drop, sectioning the Dome into tiny fragments they would control once the satellites are offline. They could, theoretically, circumvent the virus should Jules release it. Honestly, it’s crude but clever. Bernard Dome is preparing in a way we never had time to. Jules’s advantage is at an end.”
Reaching for a bottle of water, Maryanne paused long enough to gulp like a wild animal, her throat working convulsively, a ragged suck of breath following. Leaning back in her chair, exhausted to her bones, she added, “And you’re just standing there glaring at me. And where is Jules during all this? Unreachable. He’s gone no contact while Jacques Bernard is strapped down to his hospital bed and being ridden by Lucia like she’s in heat.”