| 6 | Through Tinted Glass

Where the hell are we..?

The question burns in my mind as I follow Efrem out of the courthouse. I've never been this deep into the sector before, and the unfamiliarity of it all sets my nerves on edge. The concrete steps beneath my bare feet are cold and rough, somehow making me feel more vulnerable than I already do.

Efrem’s hand rests on the small of my back, guiding me. His touch is firm, almost possessive, as if he’s already embracing his newfound ownership of me. The thought makes my skin crawl, but I can’t afford to reaction, can’t afford to recoil. One wrong move and who knows what he might do.

As we cross the parking lot, I feel the weight of countless stares. Disgust, curiosity, shock—I can almost taste the emotions in the air. Efrem, however, seems oblivious to it all. Or maybe he just doesn't care. There's a strange sort of strength in that indifference, I suppose. If he cared what others thought, I'd probably be facing execution right now.

Not that I'm sure this is any better.

Property.

The word still echoes in my mind, seared just like the ‘X’ branded on my chest.

We stop at a sleek black SUV. “Get in,” Efrem commands, opening the back door. His tone leaves no room for argument.

I hesitate, my eyes darting around. The urge to run is overwhelming.

Maybe if I'm fast enough, I could make it to the woods...

But reality crashes down hard. I have no idea where I am or how far the forest might be. And if I'm caught again, death would be a certainty.

With a shaky breath, I climb into the vehicle, the cool leather seat against my skin making me shiver. I flinch as Efrem shuts the door, the sound unnervingly final.

The heel of my foot anxiously bounces against the car floor, anticipation clawing at my insides. Through the tinted windows, I watch him walk around to the other side. When it seems as if he is going to open the door, he suddenly pauses his movements, turning to speak with Deonta’e who seemingly out of nowhere appears beside the vehicle.

Why are they talking? What are they talking about?

…

More importantly, why did they save my life?

Curiosity gets the better of me and I lean closer, straining to hear. But before I can make out any words, Efrem pulls the door open and he’s climbing in beside me. The car dips slightly under his weight, and I instinctively scramble away, pressing myself against the door, trying to put as much space between us as possible.

As he shuts the door beside him, he turns to look at me, his eyes finding mine. My fists clench at my sides, my heart skipping a beat. There’s something about the way he looks at me, curious and almost gentle, that makes me question everything I think I know about what he is.

He is the pillar of the very system whose objective is to get rid of people like you. Don’t you forget that.

And then I see it: the look in his eyes darkening and the corner of his lips curling into a smirk, almost deviously.

He doesn’t say a word to me, but he also doesn’t will himself to look away from me. And only after he’s had his share of scrutinizing me does he turn away and say, “Let’s go, Tavin.”

Tavin..?

My gaze snaps to the front seat, and there’s a man sitting there, in the driver’s seat. Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror for a brief moment, his face a stoic mask. There’s an intensity in his gaze as his piercing green eyes study me.

Then, he looks away and the vehicle begins to move, driving us away from the courthouse.

Silence.

It’s thick, oppressive, filled with questions I’m too afraid to ask. My heart pounds so loudly I'm sure Efrem must hear it.

What happens now? Where are we going? What does being his “property” actually mean?

I look at him, studying him, trying to figure him out. But his face is impassive, giving nothing away. The quiet stretches on, broken only by the soft hum of the engine and my own ragged breathing.

Suddenly, Efrem sighs, reaching for the clear plastic water bottle sitting in the cupholder at his side. The bottle clicks, the seal breaking as he unscrews the lid off. There’s a sort of grace to every movement, something that screams confidence and authority.

As he takes a sip, my focus narrows to that single object. My mouth feels like sandpaper, my throat so dry it hurts to swallow. When he starts to recap the bottle, I can't help the desperate look that crosses my face.

He notices, pausing mid-motion. For a moment, he just stares at me, his expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, he moves the bottle toward me, offering it to me.

I hesitate, my hand halfway extended.

Is this a trick? Some kind of test?

But my thirst overpowers my caution and I snatch the bottle, gulping down the water like it's the last I'll ever taste. It's cool and refreshing, soothing my parched throat. A small whimper of relief escapes me before I can stop it.

Water has never tasted so good…

Before I know it, the bottle is empty, and I can’t help but feel guilty for it.

Maybe I should’ve saved some of it. What if there’s no water wherever he’s planning to take me?

As I lower the now-empty bottle, I catch Efrem watching me with an odd look on his face—something between curiosity and... pity? The look unsettles me more than his earlier indifference.

“Identification card.”

What?

The sudden demand snaps my attention away from Efrem. I jerk my head forward, my eyes landing on a man standing beside the driver’s door.

When did we stop?

I glance in the rearview mirror, seeing the line of vehicles behind us.

We’re at the border.

Tavin, the chauffeur, smoothly retrieves his wallet from his suit jacket.He hands over his ID with an air of practiced nonchalance. The border officer barely glances at it before returning it.

“What do you have back there?” The officer asks, trying to peer into the backseat.

Unable to see past the driver's seat, he motions for Tavin to lower the window next to me. I watch, fascinated despite myself, as the tinted glass sinks into the door.

Cool…

As the window disappears, I find myself face to face with the officer. His green eyes bore into mine, hard and judgmental. My gaze drops to his chest, noting the name tag: ‘Officer Adolph Ilsa Mustafin’.

He clears his throat, drawing my attention back to his face. Leaning to the side, he shoots Tavin a disdainful look before his eyes narrow on me. “Why is there a mongrel in the back seat?”

A mongrel..?

The slur hits me like a physical blow, a shocking reminder of my new reality. It seems that anywhere I walk, there’s a new, colorful insult waiting for me.

“Is there a problem, soldier?” Efrem's strong voice cuts through the tension. I turn to look at him, surprised by his intervention.

“Master Efrem…” the officer’s voice trails off, fear instantly replacing his arrogance.

Efrem's face is a mask of irritation, silently challenging the officer.

“I-I’m sure there is an explanation for this,” the officer stumbles over his own words, evidently realizing his mistake.

“Yes,” Efrem sighs, his tone clipped. “She is with me. Court’s orders.”

At least, he doesn’t refer to me as an ‘it’. Small mercies, I guess.

I roll my eyes, turning back to the officer. The change in his demeanor is almost comical. He's practically groveling as he lowers his head and says, “Of course, sir. My apologies.”

Not so tough now, are you?

A sly smirk plays on my lips as the officer steps back, waving us through. The windows roll up, and we're moving again.

As we drive, I stare out at the passing scenery—street signs and military buildings blurring as we pick up speed.

“You should get some sleep,” Efrem’s voice breaks the silence. I turn to him, catching his eye as he adds, “It's a long way home.”

Home?

The word feels foreign, almost laughable in this context.

He shrugs off his jacket, loosening his tie before offering the garment to me. When I hesitate, confused by this gesture, he simply places it on my lap and turns away, clearly uninterested in any response I might have.

What's his deal?

I don't understand this man, but I know better than to question him. At least until I figure out how the hell I’m going to get away from him.

The silence stretches on for miles longer, and as the car's air conditioning chills me, I suddenly realize why he gave me the jacket.

He knew I would get cold…

As quiet and gentle as possible, I slip into the jacket and bring my knees up to my chest, curling up in the seat. I allow my eyes to slip shut for a while, telling myself I’m just resting them as my head rests against the window. I don’t plan to sleep, afraid of what’ll happen if I do. But exhaustion wins out, and I drift off.

And then, I’m startled awake, the sound of car doors slamming jolting me out of my reverie.

Unfortunately, I do exactly what I planned not and before I realize it, I hear a set of doors slam shut.

I flinch, eyes snapping open. Suddenly, Efrem opens my door, his green eyes meeting mine as he states simply, “We're here.”

Where is here?

He motions for me to get out, stepping back to give way. Reluctantly, I lower myself onto the brick driveway, the cool night air brushing against my skin. Efrem's hand finds its familiar place on my lower back, guiding me forward.

We walk past manicured bushes, approaching a mansion that seems to loom over us. My heart races as we climb the steps, passing between two imposing golden bear statues.

At the top, a man in a black suit stands before the double doors. He nods at Efrem and opens them without a word.

Anxiety washes over me as we step inside. The marble floor is cold against my bare feet, and the scent of roses fills the air. I freeze, taking in the opulent entrance hall—dark, rich colors everywhere, a crystal chandelier casting soft light from above.

What is this place..?

As if reading my thoughts, Efrem’s voice breaks the silence, full of pride and reverence.

“Welcome home, Miss Alaki.”