Page 38 of No Escape

Valor mutters something under his breath that I can’t make out.

Life is more interesting with Saylor here.

That’s for damn sure.

* * *

“That might have been more embarrassing than the time I first went into heat, and my bodyguard beat up my boyfriend at the biggest party of my senior year.” Saylor huffs, sitting down in one of the chairs at the table. “And that was pretty bad. My dad’s lawyers were sending cease and desist letters and claiming cell phone footage for weeks.”

Sauntering over, I take the seat at the opposite end of the table. “I feel like there’s an interesting story to be had there.”

She shrugs. “Maybe, but don’t ask me. I can’t remember any of it. My security team dumped me at one of those omega centers, and they knocked me out. The entire night is one big blur. I heard bits and pieces from a few friends, but even they laughed and joked behind my back about it.”

“Not very good mates, by my estimation,” I say, studying the sadness on her face.

“I guess not. Luckily, I only had to make it through the rest of the school year, and I made much better friends in college.”

Emotions are not my forte.

I like to keep things light and carefree if at all possible.

Stretching a hand across the table, I grab hers and give it a squeeze. “Please tell me you aren’t about to have a breakdown over peeing with the door open. I’m not emotionally equipped to deal with that.”

Saylor snorts.

The light above the door turns yellow, and a low buzz fills the air. It’s not the same sound that notifies us when the cells lock or unlock, but that will be coming soon.

Giving her hand a final pat, I shove myself out of my chair. “Where are your clothes and would you like them washed?”

“What?”

“They’re making their way around the block, delivering trays and picking up laundry. If you’d like it included, I’ll need to add it to our bin.” I swipe a hand through the air and stomp over to grab our laundry from the container at the end of my bed. Once that’s done, I pop into the bathroom and collect Valor’s clothes. “Dinner is on the way, and you can’t hide in here forever.” I frown at his pale ass as he leans his forehead against his arm on the tile.

Shite.

I hope he’s not having another migraine.

They come so regularly, it’s scary at times—another side effect of his deteriorating condition.

“I’ll come out to eat,” he says, cutting off the water. I grab one of the older towels and do my best to clean up the water that ricocheted out while he was showering, but we only get thirty seconds to pass them our laundry and collect our food.

Tossing everything into the laundry bin labeled with our cell number, I stride out to find the yellow light blinking, which means we’re next up.

“Can you swap to the side farthest from the door?” I ask Saylor.

She nods and pops up, scurrying around the table. “I left my clothes on top of the pile to the right of the sink.”

“I got them,” I assure her as the light switches to green.

The movement of bodies in the hallway becomes visible in the two glass panels on either side of the door. It must be a royal pain in the arse for them to drag along so many food carts, but our boss paid a ridiculous sum of money for us to be here. The least they can do is provide us with the basics, like fresh laundry and three meals a day.

The alarm buzzes, and the light on the handle turns green.

I don’t bother to check on what Saylor is doing, because experience tells me we have a tight time limit to make this exchange.

Yanking open the handle, I keep the door propped open with my foot.

I don’t even flinch at the multiple guns pointed at my forehead. Instead, I lean forward, slide our labeled laundry bin on the bottom shelf of the cart, and begin plucking off the supplies.

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