13

My feelings about The Smoke were bordering on ambiguous. I wasn't quite there, this place still left a monstrous shadow on every thought I had about it, but I'd ventured into the bowels of the beast and returned unscathed.

Well, relatively unscathed. I didn't want to run into a Blood Throat anytime soon again—or ever. But I was still here to tell the tale, and there were aspects to The Smoke that weren't all Blood Throats and pure horror.

Conscious of the fact that I had the only key to the apartment, I returned to wait for Roman. When it approached six in the evening with no sign of him, I started to get worried.

Not about Roman.

About dinner.

The electrics went off at seven, then we'd be in the dark…well, in the candlelight. One of the many downsides about this place that played on my mind as I hunted through the cabinets for a cutting board and chef knife. I found a polished stone slab and a bread knife, which did the job for dicing the vegetables for a tomato based pasta sauce.

From what I knew of Roman, the dismal state of affairs in this kitchen had more to do with him than the shortages in The Smoke, but there were shortages here.

Shortages of everything.

Electrics. Greenery. Space. Time.

The portable heater was still plugged in for charging, but I didn't dare turn it on even though the chill inside the apartment tickled through my hoodie. I preferred to save the charge for later tonight when the temperatures plummeted. That wasn't the kind of choice I'd ever had to make in Capra.

There was only the single hot plate built into the countertop. A drawer beneath yielded a battered tin pan.

Working with the limited ingredients I'd bought in the market and a blob of butter from the tiny fridge, I fried the onions, mixed in the tomatoes and herbs, and added a pinch of mixed salt and pepper from a hemp pouch that had possibly been standing there since before the plague. The speckled grains were so clumped together, I literally had to carve off that pinch. That was on me, though. I knew what Roman was like in the domestication department, and I'd passed by a couple of general food shops during the day. I should have stocked up on some basic supplies.

I was watching over the simmering sauce when knuckles rapped at the door. My breath caught, and I rolled my eyes at myself. It wouldn't be Jenna, or the Guard come to haul me back to Capra and into rehab. Of course it wouldn't.

It wasn't.

I opened the door for Roman and hurried back to attend to my sauce. "There are children here."

Not the best greeting in the world, but that's where my mind went the moment I saw him. All the things he'd always known, and all the things I'd misbelieved.

He stripped his coat off and tossed it onto the couch. "There are."

"Babies are being born here." I stirred and removed the pan from the heat. "I met a pregnant woman today."

He didn't comment, just stood a few paces from me, dragging a slow hand through his hair. That's when I noticed the strain at his jaw and the tiredness in his eyes.

"What's happened now?" I demanded. "You look terrible."

"There was an incident at Sector Five."

"Trouble?" I asked, imagining a whole horde of those scary Outerlanders storming the bridge.

He shrugged, then shook his head. "That's not the problem. I didn't make it to Capra in time to leave my truck at the station and get the train back here. I planned to walk you home tonight."

I wasn't ready to go home. "So I stay here one more day. How is that a problem?"

"You have to be in Capra tomorrow," he said. "Julian called this morning. We're invited to dinner tomorrow night."

I'd grown quite fond of Councilman Julian Edgar. I'd once thought Miriam, Daniel's mother, was a distant, cold fish, that his father brought the love and warmth into their family. I'd even had serious doubts about stealing Julian's handprint for the Sisterhood.

Then I'd learnt that he'd sent his own wife into rehab. Miriam wasn't cold or distant, she was just an empty shell left over from whatever they'd done to her. She potted about in her greenhouse and floated around like a will-o'-the-wisp, barely present, barely a person.

Julian Edgar had done that to her.

He'd done that to Daniel, taken a mother away from her son.

That's who Julian Edgar was beneath the charismatic charm and warm persona.

My shoulders tensed with restrained anger as I hunched down to search through the pots and pans drawer for a pasta pot. There was a rusted baking tray and another pan big enough to fry one egg.

Great.

I grabbed the pan and straightened. "What about my house arrest?"

"We're making an exception."

"You're making an exception. I'm not!" I rinsed the pan and transferred the sauce so I could use the larger pan to boil the pasta. "You'll just have to politely make my excuses."

Or not so politely. At this point, I didn't give a crap.

"I already tried," Roman said. "Julian insisted. It's safe to assume tomorrow's dinner isn't solely a social event. He wants a face-to-face with you, probably to satisfy himself that you've been adequately tamed."

"So Jessie's not allowed to visit, I can't see my parents." I put some extra muscle into rinsing out the sauce pan. "But Councilman Julian Edgar shouts and everyone jumps."

Roman ignored that. "I'm returning to Capra tonight. I'll sleep at the cabin and catch the morning train. We can walk back during the day. It's not ideal, but it'll have to do."

"Do I have any say in this?"

He ignored that, too. "I want to leave as early as possible. It's a three hour walk, and the afternoon train won't be due until about four, but I'd rather give us more time than less."

I ran water into the pan. "What if I refuse?"

"Georga."

"No!" I slammed it down on the hot plate, hard. Half the water splashed out. "All Capra has given me is lies. I tracked down Jenna today. I didn't actually get to see her, but I left a message at her work place. She's a teacher. Did you know that?"

I shot him a quick look without really looking, I was too busy dumping the pasta into the pan with a flourish of disgust. "Women work here. They teach. They have stalls in the market. They serve behind counters. They fall pregnant and have babies. They have boyfriends! They're living like the fertility plague never happened."

"It did happen," he said quietly, so quietly, I wouldn't have heard if he hadn't snuck up to stand right beside me.

"I said like it didn't happen." My fingers developed a rage tremor as I lifted the wooden spoon to stir. "They're not living in a freak show."

Because more and more, that's what Capra felt like to me. Everything else, everyone else, was normal. We were the freaks.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing?" I brandished the spoon at him. "I'm making supper."

He caught my wrist, tipping his head to level a deeply furrowed look on me. "What are you doing?"

I knew what he was asking.

"I don't know," I said, the pitch in my voice dropping. "Maybe I'm thinking The Smoke isn't as bad as I've always heard."

"And you're what?" he asked, the look in his eyes darkening. "Thinking you'll just run away from Capra and live here?"

Was that what I was thinking?

In Capra, we never went without. The lights were always only a click away. The women had time to linger over tea or lunch in the town square. The men had their own establishments. In Capra, no one packed in anywhere like sardines or ate on their feet.

We had the park, two acres of woodland around Flapper Pond. We had the lake and the nature reserve. One day here, and I already missed the vibrancy that only nature could provide, and the fresh air. When I'd blown my nose earlier, the tissue was streaked with black. My mouth no longer felt dry or gritty, but I didn't know if that was because the wind had changed or I'd just become accustomed to a new normal, because this was all normal for the people here…so many people, where did they all come from?

And most importantly, Capra had my family and friends. Could I be as brave and careless as Jenna, and leave everything behind?

"Because that's not an option," Roman stated. "You don't honestly think the council will just allow people to defect left, right and center?"

I wrested my hand out from his grasp. "They kicked Jenna out."

"She hadn't graduated yet. That's a one-time deal, Georga, and you passed on it. Your choices now are buckle up and live by Capra's law, or they'll wipe your slate clean in rehab."

He was forgetting that I was already beyond Capra law. "Or you can just let me stay here."

He shook his head. "The Protectorate and council work hand-in-hand for the good of the Eastern Coalition. It's not just a matter of me letting you do anything."

"You said the Protectorate only enforce their authority in Gardens," I snapped. "I'll disappear into The Smoke."

"The Protectorate assigns housing and jobs," he said flatly. "Without their approval, you'll die in The Smoke. If hypothermia or hunger doesn't kill you, there's plenty else on the street that will. And the Protectorate doesn't care about what happens outside of Gardens so long as the result aligns with the will of the Eastern Coalition. If the council wants you back, the Protectorate will send their Protectors to scour every inch of The Smoke until they find you."

With every word, he took another choice away from me. "If you cared at all, you'd help me disappear."

"I do care," he said, his voice turning gruff. "That's exactly why I won't help you disappear. You may think you want that life, constantly looking over your shoulder and living in the shadows, always having to stay one step ahead of the authorities, but trust me, you don't."

I didn't even want to run, I realized. What I wanted, what I really wanted, was to fix Capra for everyone. But his arrogance still ruffled my nerves. That was Capra's way, trusting a man to think for you, to know what's best for you.

I glared at him, my blood hot, and I don't know what happened, or when it happened, but my scowl gradually cleared and my glare softened until I was no longer trying to burn a hole through his arrogant skin to roast his soul.

I was looking into his eyes because I couldn't look away.

Maybe it was the gruff sincerity in his voice.

Maybe it was the glint of intensity feeding into his eyes.

"I will always help you in any way I can," he said. "So long as I draw breath, I will keep you safe and protect you. I will give you answers, security, happiness. I will always try to give you the life you want, to the best of my ability. But I will not give you a life of hell, no matter how much you beg for it."

That bittersweet promise thickened the air between us.

The lies and omissions, the arrogance and assumptions, my shattered reality from Sector Five and the rift that had torn through us…all of it melted away like snowflakes falling onto a fire.

There was just this moment, and the memories of how complex my feelings toward Roman had become. The guilt, the desire, the anger, the frustration…and beneath it all, the man. Roman West was not a man my body could ignore. He was not a man my heart could freeze out.

In this moment, he was the steel in every breath I took. He was the weakness in my knees. He was the bittersweet taste of freedom that wouldn't, couldn't last. He was the melt in my blood. He was the rod stiffening my spine. He was the hollow in my stomach. He was the journey on my road of unanswered questions. He was the sting on my lips of a barely-there kiss.

I didn't have any more fight left in me for Roman West. It was impossible for him to ever see the world through my eyes. And maybe, just maybe, it was impossible for me to ever see the world through his eyes.

We were products of our circumstances, and right now, those circumstances put me within a breath of my husband's arms. I wanted him. I'd wanted him for a long, long time, but tonight that want turned to desperation.

Butterflies nested low in my stomach, urging me to do something rash, something brave, something beautiful.

I bit down on my bottom lip, wishing I had the courage. I'd lost my fight, but I hadn't lost my pride, and every solid time I'd made the first move, Roman had shut me down. When I'd asked him why he found me so easy to resist, he'd said it wasn't easy, he'd said he didn't want to want me, which implied he did want me, but he'd still run after that kiss.

When I'd admitted I was attracted to him, he'd told me about another woman in his life. Amelia.

So, no, I didn't have the courage to rise up onto my toes and take that kiss I so desperately craved.

My gaze went to the wooden spoon I was still holding up between us.

"Whatever you're thinking of doing with that, please don't," Roman said, a hint of humor in his voice. "I've had a really long day and I'm not sure I could outrun you."

I didn't laugh. "Tell me about Amelia."

His humor thinned. "I intend to. That's one of the reasons I brought you to The Smoke. You didn't want the truth from me, so I had to show you. I need you to understand."

"I'm listening."

A bubbling, hissing sound erupted. Crap! The pasta was boiling over in the pan.

Roman grabbed the handle and shunted the pan to the drainer by the sink.

I dug in with the spoon, attempting to stir out the pasta clumps.

"Leave it," Roman said. "Let's go out for dinner."

"Out?" I hiked a brow at him. "The lights go off in less than half an hour."

"There's plenty of night life in The Smoke." A grin tucked up a corner of his mouth. "You just have to know where to find it."