were all out causing shit.
The only loud thing Pixie did was her explosives, which Phoenix had always found funny. It was as though she needed to blow things up to express any real emotion. But emotion was all that she could see on her face now. And it was apparently over Mr. Black. Who would have thought? Something was clearly going on with those two, and now Phoenix was committed to finding out what. The implication that there were possible feelings between those two didn't bode well in her opinion, but that didn't stop her from finding the whole thing fascinating.
“Got a problem, Pix?” Phoenix said when they got within hearing distance.
“Not a word,” Pixie replied, looking pissed.
Phoenix chuckled as they continued by, the guard not breaking stride. She watched them leave and then turned to see what the other woman was doing. Ugh. She wiped at her eyes, clearly playing the distressed victim as she resumed her clinging to Bastian's arm. Suddenly Phoenix felt defensive of Pix, wanting to march over there herself and remind the woman she needed to back the fuck off.
When she looked to see Bastian's reaction she stilled. He wasn't paying the lady an ounce of attention, his gaze solely focused on Phoenix. He narrowed his eyes, looking between her and the door Pixie had disappeared through, clearly trying to connect the dots. Shit, she thought, wanting to smack herself. She'd spoken to Pixie as though they were friends, and that brief exchange hadn't gone unnoticed by the observant boss. Whatever suspicions he’d had, she'd just gone and added to them.
The bell rang loudly, jerking her attention away from his scrutiny to look back at the ring. Trent stood in the middle, the ref holding his arm up in victory. Poop, she thought with a pout, she missed the whole thing. He faced away from her, playing to the cheering crowd, but she could tell from the way he held himself that he hadn't suffered any serious injuries.
The other fighter however was another story. His unmoving form was already being carried away. Phoenix swallowed the bile in her throat, the reality of just where they were and what they were being forced to do hitting her full force.
Shame filled her at even laughing over Pixie's situation while their friend had been fighting for his life in a boxing ring. Whatever was going on with Pixie had better stop, she decided right then, because Sebastian- mother-fucking - Black was the devil himself and they needed to get the hell away from here. Now.
The yellow lace dress was old, having been her mother's when she was younger, but Stella had always loved it. The bust hung on her a bit, and she had to lift the hem to walk so it wouldn't hang on the ground, but she didn't care. Braiding the front of her hair, she pulled it all back, pinning the locks into a bun at the nape. She regarded herself in the mirror, turning from side to side. Pinching her cheeks for colour, she decided this was the best she was going to get.
Tonight was the big social that had been announced at the last community meeting. Stella loved things like this. It gave her a chance to talk to people and have fun, something rare during these times. After the most recent bombings in the eastern ghetto, everyone had been even more on edge than usual. They knew the NWO was only dealing with the rebels, but that didn't make anyone feel easier.
Stella often thought about the rebels, wondering just what it would be like to fight against the oppressive leader ruling them, rather than following orders like the sheep they were. Uppers didn't speak out against anything. It was well known and practiced by all in the Upper section that you should keep your head down and do as you were told. No one wanted to be arrested, or heaven forbid, be removed from their home and sent to the ghettos.
She'd seen it happen before with her own eyes. She could still remember the sounds of the woman's wails as her husband was accused of supporting rebel troops,
The only loud thing Pixie did was her explosives, which Phoenix had always found funny. It was as though she needed to blow things up to express any real emotion. But emotion was all that she could see on her face now. And it was apparently over Mr. Black. Who would have thought? Something was clearly going on with those two, and now Phoenix was committed to finding out what. The implication that there were possible feelings between those two didn't bode well in her opinion, but that didn't stop her from finding the whole thing fascinating.
“Got a problem, Pix?” Phoenix said when they got within hearing distance.
“Not a word,” Pixie replied, looking pissed.
Phoenix chuckled as they continued by, the guard not breaking stride. She watched them leave and then turned to see what the other woman was doing. Ugh. She wiped at her eyes, clearly playing the distressed victim as she resumed her clinging to Bastian's arm. Suddenly Phoenix felt defensive of Pix, wanting to march over there herself and remind the woman she needed to back the fuck off.
When she looked to see Bastian's reaction she stilled. He wasn't paying the lady an ounce of attention, his gaze solely focused on Phoenix. He narrowed his eyes, looking between her and the door Pixie had disappeared through, clearly trying to connect the dots. Shit, she thought, wanting to smack herself. She'd spoken to Pixie as though they were friends, and that brief exchange hadn't gone unnoticed by the observant boss. Whatever suspicions he’d had, she'd just gone and added to them.
The bell rang loudly, jerking her attention away from his scrutiny to look back at the ring. Trent stood in the middle, the ref holding his arm up in victory. Poop, she thought with a pout, she missed the whole thing. He faced away from her, playing to the cheering crowd, but she could tell from the way he held himself that he hadn't suffered any serious injuries.
The other fighter however was another story. His unmoving form was already being carried away. Phoenix swallowed the bile in her throat, the reality of just where they were and what they were being forced to do hitting her full force.
Shame filled her at even laughing over Pixie's situation while their friend had been fighting for his life in a boxing ring. Whatever was going on with Pixie had better stop, she decided right then, because Sebastian- mother-fucking - Black was the devil himself and they needed to get the hell away from here. Now.
The yellow lace dress was old, having been her mother's when she was younger, but Stella had always loved it. The bust hung on her a bit, and she had to lift the hem to walk so it wouldn't hang on the ground, but she didn't care. Braiding the front of her hair, she pulled it all back, pinning the locks into a bun at the nape. She regarded herself in the mirror, turning from side to side. Pinching her cheeks for colour, she decided this was the best she was going to get.
Tonight was the big social that had been announced at the last community meeting. Stella loved things like this. It gave her a chance to talk to people and have fun, something rare during these times. After the most recent bombings in the eastern ghetto, everyone had been even more on edge than usual. They knew the NWO was only dealing with the rebels, but that didn't make anyone feel easier.
Stella often thought about the rebels, wondering just what it would be like to fight against the oppressive leader ruling them, rather than following orders like the sheep they were. Uppers didn't speak out against anything. It was well known and practiced by all in the Upper section that you should keep your head down and do as you were told. No one wanted to be arrested, or heaven forbid, be removed from their home and sent to the ghettos.
She'd seen it happen before with her own eyes. She could still remember the sounds of the woman's wails as her husband was accused of supporting rebel troops,
Similar Books
