Chapter 7

One line.

A timer beeped somewhere outside of my stall.

Fifteen minutes. It'd been fifteen minutes, and no second line had appeared.

Just that single damning line. My legs wobbled, and I dropped to the floor. Pain flared through my knees as I hit the tile, lost in the swell of emotions.

I'd failed.

Everything I'd done—enduring Carter's fetishes, doing whatever anybody wanted no matter how tired or disinterested I was—none of it mattered. My fingers clenched on the cheap plastic as rage quickly replaced sadness. With a roar, I chucked the test against the wall and dropped my head into my hands, trying to breathe through the tears that distorted my vision and tightened my chest.

This was my last chance. Unless I could convince Administrator Sampson that I should be given more time, they'd send me. They'd send me.

No, I couldn't even think about it. I wouldn't let it consume me. Instead, I smoothed my hair back and bent over the toilet to retrieve the test.

There was no fucking way I was going to the fields.

Straightening my back, I left the stall to an empty bathroom. I'd been the only girl whose period hadn't arrived, the only one to test this cycle.

Each day it hadn't come, I'd been so hopeful. Scared to be a mother, but hopeful that I'd succeed this cycle, and I could end this charade. Go home to 11F and make a life for myself.

That hope was gone now. Dashed.

Clearing my throat, I looked myself over in the mirror. Red face, puffy eyes from crying.

Shit.

I scooped some cold water up in my cupped hand and carefully bathed each eye, hoping to soothe any evidence of my weakness.

I am not going to the fields, I promised myself, pursing my lips at my reflection and giving it a wink.

This would not defeat me.

Giving my reflection a toothy grin, I left the bathroom to walk down the long hall, knowing a roomful of breeders was waiting for me at the other end.

Today I'd worn pants and a short-sleeve shirt with a ruffled neck to outline my dainty collarbone. It was flattering, but very different from my usual revealing garb. I'd been so sure I'd gotten pregnant this cycle, that I wouldn't need to dress up for the guys anymore.

Stepping out into the open common area, I could feel all the eyes on me. Silence filled the bustling room. Everyone stilled, studying my face. Women who had failed to conceive, waiting to see if they'd have to bite back the tears to hug and congratulate me or share in my frustration. Men waiting to see if they'd become fathers and return to their squads.

With a twist of my wrist, I held up the test forward-facing so they could see the single line. That fucking line.

"Sorry, boys, I guess you're stuck with me for another cycle."

The room exploded with a mix of groans and whoops.

"Good morning, Sylvia. You've now completed four cycles with the breeding program, and I'm told you're requesting an extension?" Administrator Sampson seemed almost bored, like the decision he was about to half-heartedly make didn't determine the course of my life. He tapped a ballpoint pen on the paperwork laid out across his richly stained oak desk and raised an eyebrow at me.

Clearing my throat, I folded my hands neatly in my lap, and met his eyes with steely resolve.

"Being a pack mother is everything to me," I lied. "I can't imagine my life without children in it."

I couldn't imagine my life working the poisoned fields. Giving the rotten ground every last part of myself until it eventually took my life. All for the good of future generations I would never see.

He studied my face, and I was sick of his scrutiny. Done with the games. Sitting up in my chair, I stared him down.

"I need this." Letting some of the desperation come through in my voice was a risky move, but a calculated one. I'd lick his shiny black shoes if I had to.

With a sigh and a nod, Administrator Sampson sat back in his chair with a squeak and began marking up the paper in front of him.

Worriedly, I tried to see what he was writing, but the angle was wrong for it. I could only wait in the silence to see what he penned with bold strokes.

"I will give you an extension for two cycles."

My breath whooshed out. I felt deflated. After not sleeping the previous night and worrying about how this would go, I'd somehow done it.

Or I'd been too valuable to lose. Elise hadn't been. They'd cut her from the program as soon as she had completed her four cycles without a pregnancy.

Who exactly was my father that my genes were so much more desired?

Fuck if I cared, so long as my records kept me in the program long enough to conceive a child.

"Thank you." My voice squeaked, and I tried to clear my throat again—to clear away the emotion clogging it and force my words back to a normal pitch. "I appreciate it."

"Two additional cycles, Sylvia. That is all you are permitted. Make them count."

With a nod and a weak smile, I stood and left the room.

His words followed me all the way down the hall and through the stairwell leading back to the breeder dorms.

Make them count.