The Six: Genesis | A Reverse Harem Novel

One Hundred & Seven

Numb.

Broken.

Lost.

Agonized.

Words that say plenty, but don't describe how I feel. They don't count the nausea turning my stomach. Or the hotness of tears as I struggle to hold them back. My throat aches and my legs tremble.

Ryker and the guys watch me in silence, pity painting their faces. My adoptive father stands to my right, a hand partially holding my fisted one. Chris stands across from me, his handsome face pinched in sadness and concentration. The others, spread around the room in a semi-circle of protection, wear the same hopeless expression.

How could this have happened?

I was careful. To ensure there were no more mishaps with the organisms, I'd created a patch for the hole in the code and rolled it out worldwide. Everything was fixed—not a problem in sight—until today. Until this...

With the solid floor, white walls, and the tech hanging from every available inch of space, you wouldn't think I'm standing in the middle of the Arazavi Desert. It takes up over half the continent, leeching the greenery on all sides by half a meter each year. While it rains plentifully here, the water runs off and is not absorbed. Plus, the raging war has decimated all it touches.

For the past 50 years, this place has been a battleground lusted after by the four countries surrounding it. Beneath these sands, there is gold and, further down, diamonds. Despite the unfortunate look of the land, this region is filthy rich in all the ways humans love.

Many nations have tried to end the conflict, but nothing changes. The greedy want the resources and are willing to pay whatever price is necessary to ensure they win a slice of the pie. As a result, they target the poor, and they fill the ranks and die amongst the golden sands—their blood devoured by the dry earth.

My company has done wonders to limit the loss of human life, but those who joined the military did so to provide for their families. Where there are no jobs, their people die another way. Starvation.

And no matter how much I donate, how much I fight it, I can't stop it and I can't slow it down. At least, 384.54 per 100,000 die per year because of starvation. Far higher than a hundred years ago.

"Give us a minute," Ryker says, voice hard and uncompromising. I'd forgotten there were other people present. My men—my security team—didn't budge. "I meant all of you as well."

Chris shook his head. "We aren't leaving Blue exposed. If there's something you need to say to her, say it, but I'm not going anywhere."

Ryker sucks his teeth but doesn't argue. The hand he holds on mine tightens and he draws me away from the horrors before me and into a bear hug. I cling to him, burying my nose in his jacket. Salt of the sea, bergamot, and notes of warm cedar fills my nostrils.

In his grasp, I relax.

"Don't blame yourself for this. There was nothing you could do to prevent it and nothing you could have done to presume it was happening."

Still, the swath of images won't leave me be. In the center of the mass of devastating images, a pair of empty eye sockets stare listlessly. They'd melted right out of her face. From what Ryker told me, she was only eight years old and her eyes were brown.

Her skin, a robust shade of ebony, was charred. Burned to scabs on her scalp, the waist-length black braids she wore are no more. She wore no more clothes, only the tattered remains of her ruined skin, ashes from the building around her and the scattered pieces of debris.

Morari. That was her name. A name she only wore for eight years—tomorrow was her ninth birthday.

The rest of the images are no different.