Cress

Chapter 39

Cress squeaked as she was spun around. 

She found herself staring into a face

that was both handsome and murderous, 

 his eyes glowing in the light of the netscreen.

"Who are you?"

Her instinct was to scream but she smothered it,

 choking off the noise until it was little more

 than a  whimper.

 "I-I'm sorry for intruding," she said. "I needed

a netscreen. 

M-my friend is in danger and I needed to send a 

 comm and—I'm so sorry, I promise I didn't steal

 anything.

 P-please don't call for the doctor.

 Please."

He seemed to have stopped listening to her,

 instead sending his steely gaze around the room. 

 He released her arm but remained tense  

and defensive. 

 He wasn't wearing a shirt, but he had bandages 

around his torso that covered him almost as much 

as  she would have.

 "Where are we? What happened?" 

 His words were staggered and slurred.

He grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut, and 

 when he opened them again it

seemed that he couldn't quite focus on anything.

That's when Cress's attention caught on something

 more terrifying than his faded scars and 

intimidating muscles.

He had a tattoo on his arm.

 It was too dark to read it, but Cress knew instantly

 what it was. 

She'd seen them in countless videos and photo-

graphs and documentaries hastily cobbled together.

 He was a Lunar special operative. 

 One of the queen's mutants.

Visions of men digging their claws into their victims' 

 chests, looking their jaws around exposed throats, 

howling at the moon, curled and crawled through

her head.

This time, she couldn't temper the instinct. 

She screamed.

His grabbed her and forced her jaw shut with his 

enormous hands. 

 She sobbed, trembling. 

She was about to die.

 Her body would pose no more resistance to him 

than a twig.

He snarled and she could make out the sharp points

 of his teeth.