The Bureau (A Cage for Men and Wolves Book 1) (14 page)

She'd only caught the ghost of the expression she'd wanted to see on Elliot's face. But his anger seemed different from Rainer's. There was something deeper to the outrage he was showing. Maybe something more righteous.

Rainer stood straighter and smoothed his hair off his forehead. "You're slow."

Grabbing the uniform coat that he'd draped over the side of the desk, he made his way toward the door, stopping near the chair Elliot still sat in—his little brother didn’t stand.

"We'll finish this later," Rainer said before glancing into the coffee mugs, then at Clover's face. "He takes his coffee with cream."

Daring a look into his frigid eyes, Clover saw suspicion there. He may have only mentioned coffee, but she knew that with those words he'd also brought into question her role as his servant. Any werewolf who had gone through training at a finishing school would have known how to make their master's coffee, after all. She swallowed, despite herself and knew he saw her throat working around the lump.

"I take mine with two sugars," he said quietly, almost whispering in her ear. "Try to remember."

Neither Clover nor Elliot moved as Rainer stomped down the stairs and out the front door. Several moments passed after the house went silent before Clover walked to the desk, setting the mugs down. She leaned against the edge across from her silent companion.

"Should I get some cream?" she asked after another stretch of uncomfortable stillness.

"No," he said, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and fingertips.

"I think the coffee made him suspicious."

"What were you thinking, Clover?" His fingers stayed pressed against his eyelids.

"How was I supposed to know what sort of coffee you drink?"

"I'm not talking about coffee! Why were you naked?"

She'd not expected the scene in the bedroom to be what he was worrying about, not after an argument as heated as the one she'd heard between them.

"I was hiding evidence," she said, irritated that he'd be angry with her. "I didn't have enough time to get dressed, so I improvised."

Elliot groaned, moving forward to press the heels of his hands into his eyes now.

"What does it matter? If anything, it got him off our scent. If he thinks you're keeping me around as a bed warmer, then he's not going to suspect us of anything else."

"He's going to tell everyone," Elliot muttered to his lap.

"So? Isn't this the sort of thing you people
do
anyway?"

"We're not
all
rapists, Clover!" A ferociousness in his gaze caught her as he finally looked up from his lap.

It was rare for Clover to be shouted at without the urge to scream back filling her to burst. Both of these brothers seemed to have that strange effect on her, though. But, while Rainer froze her response in icy fear, the anger that Elliot flashed at her made her stomach twist in what she could only describe as guilt. He was right, after all. Even if she hated him, a notion she was still trying desperately to hang onto, she could tell he wasn't as barbaric as his brother, or the majority of humans, for that matter.

"I'm sorry," she said, hoping it would make the guilty feeling crawling around inside her go away.

"Forget it," he murmured after a moment, getting up from his chair. "Let's just get some rest. Tomorrow’s going to be rough."

"Will you try to get those records tomorrow?" She kept her voice soft.

"Yes," he said simply as they both left the office. "I just need to come up with a believable reason."

"Thank you."

"Also, we should get you some new uniforms tomorrow as well," he murmured. "People will start noticing if you keep wearing the same one. It's too big on you."

Clover nodded, then Elliot marched his way into the bathroom to get ready for bed. As she dug her pallet out of the closet where she'd tossed it, she thought that things would have been so much simpler if Elliot had been as wicked as she'd hoped.

- 14 -

The soft feeling she’d thought might be guilt was gone by the time they reached the train the following morning. She didn’t care anymore if she’d accidentally marked him as a sexual deviant, or marked herself as a bed warmer. He may not be the type to force himself on women who were trapped under his charge, but she knew there were plenty who would, despite what he thought.

Comforting herself with her anger, she spent the first leg of their trip glaring at his stupid, passive face. If he didn’t like her plans then he should come up with a few on his own. Just when she’d talked herself into hating his guts again, he shifted closer to her as the crowd swelled around them. He grabbed her round the arm as he pushed into her space.

"Let go of me," she hissed, keeping her voice low, but infusing it with the frustration she'd been incubating all morning.

"Shut up."

His voice had been a whisper, and in contrast, Clover realized how noisy the car had gotten. When the din crested in a loud slapping sound and an answering yelp of a young girl, the situation became clear. She felt the familiar bubbling of her temper, but he refused to let her go.

"I'm fine," she seethed quietly.

She'd seen enough violence that she could manage her own temper, and she'd be damned if she let him think
he
was the one corralling
her
. The sound of another blow echoing up the narrow car made her stop, though, and she felt his hand tighten on her. He shook his head subtly enough that other passengers might not notice, but it was enough that she got his message. The crowd shifted again, moving away from the beating that didn’t stop at the first blow. The girl Clover never got to see was quiet after a half dozen swings, then only the sound of fists on flesh and bone filled the suddenly quiet train. She wondered if the girl was unconscious or dead.

When the crowed thinned a few stops before their destination, Clover didn’t see a body, or a victim—she saw blood smearing the floor, and that was it.

All the annoyance she'd felt, all the irritation that had been distracting her, seemed foolish now. She shouldn't need blood stains to remind her to stay focused. She was there to keep a beating like that from happening to her mother, or to her siblings. It didn't matter if Elliot was a friend, or an enemy. He was only there as a tool.

With her temper effectively doused, Elliot's mood lightened as well. Even the accusing looks from other workers as they made their way into the Bureau seemed unimportant. They did, however, help Clover understand why Elliot had been so angry about the whole debacle. Gossip apparently traveled fast inside the Bureau.

"I'm surprised," Clover murmured as they stood on the empty elevator. "I didn't expect people to seem so disgusted."

"I told you," his voice was subdued, but she knew he was still offended. "It's not as acceptable as you think it is."

"Can you really blame me for thinking it, though?" She looked at his profile as he watched the floor numbers light up.

"I guess not," he said after a long pause. "I'm going to drop you off first, so you won't have to deal with my father when he comes looking for me."

She wasn't sure which prospect was worse, but thanked him anyway.

Pierson greeted them at the door to the maintenance room, and the smile on her face suggested she already knew, but her silence suggested she was waiting for Elliot to leave before speaking her mind.

Clover had never thought she’d be happy to be with her chaperone, cleaning up after the people she hated most, but at least he seemed uninterested in gossip. Pierson had kept whatever insults she was sitting on to herself, which almost made Clover
more
worried. Even without the hateful words, Clover knew the woman was saving for her, she still had to suffer the sympathetic glances from her peers.

Jeannette, in particular, was nearly intolerable with her sad looks and reassuring touches. Clover told her it was a misunderstanding, but the mother-turned-slave was unconvinced, and by mid-day Clover thought she was going to lose her mind.

"He seemed so upstanding, too." Jeannette lamented, pushing a small cart as Clover emptied little trash bins into it. The rows of cubicles were empty, all the workers away at lunch.

"Please, Jeannette." Clover sighed, her patience frayed and weak. "
Please,
could we just drop it?"

"Sorry.” She paused, and for a second Clover thought she would have a break. "It's just upsetting, you know? We'd all looked up to him. We thought he might be able to make things better for us."

"I didn't realize he had such big reputation."

After seeing his work space, it was strange to imagine him as a celebrity of any kind. Then again, that was the reason she'd taken him in the first place. And on top of that, his reputation seemed split down the middle—hated by his peers, respected by the lowest tier of workers that she thought he hated. She didn’t understand him. He seemed kind, but his apathy, his refusal to take charge, it confused her.

Then again, he’d argued over the position with Rainer. Maybe he doesn’t want his brother to have it after all.

"Of course he has a reputation," Jeannette’s voice was solemn. "I mean, we're all looking forward to him taking over his dad's position.”

"You think he'll change things?"

"I’d hoped he would," she said as her brows creased, "but now I'm not so sure."

Guilt twisted Clover’s stomach when she realized she'd dimmed the beacon he'd become. She wondered if
he
even knew what workers like Jeannette were saying about him, or that so much was expected of him.

"Jeannette, listen," Clover began, not entirely sure what she was going to say.

Before she could make what might have been a mistake, though, they were interrupted by a shout from Connell, who had seemed a little more irritated than usual that morning. He stood at the end of their row of cubicles, holding Ji-Yun, the dark-haired, limping girl Clover had noticed the day before, by the arm. She swayed slightly in Connell's grasp, her face chalky-grey and shining with sweat.

"Take her to the bathroom and clean her up," Connell ordered as the two hurried toward him.

Seeing a line of blood dribbling down the other girl's leg made Clover's gut twist with a toxic mix of curiosity and dread, but Jeannette was unfazed, and put her arms around the other girl, taking most of her weight.

"You go get the first aid kit," Connell said to Clover, "and be quick. I don't want this putting us behind schedule."

By the time Clover made it to the small lavatory, medical kit in hand, Ji-Yun was supporting herself on the sink, her whole body shaking as she gulped for air. Clover realized she'd been hiding her pain from their boss.             

"Just relax, hun," Jeannette soothed, speaking slowly. They both knew her English was still broken. "We're just going to clean it, okay?"

Ji-Yun nodded and shifted more of her weight onto the sink as Jeannette carefully lifted the brown skirt. Clover's curiosity dissolved as the smell of infection stung her nose. Infected wounds weren't new to her, as her pack's ability to get medical supplies wasn't always great, but she'd not been prepared for this. Nausea wracked her body, as she was unable to look away from the dark red bands that wrapped the other girl’s thigh like a festering garter. A slimy coating of moisture covered speckles of yellow and white, and in the center of the wound, like a band of elastic pulled too tight, was a metal chain, bits of flesh pressing through the links, as if her body were trying to swallow it.

Clover's mouth hung open as Jeannette pulled the disinfectant wipes from the small kit.

"What is that?" Clover finally asked, unable to muster more than a whisper.

"It's called a cilice," Jeannette glanced at the door, nervous they would be heard. "While we're on Bureau property, Pierson is in charge of any punishment we get. This is one of her favorites."

"She put this on her?" It was hard to keep her voice from bouncing off the tiled walls. "Why?"

"Ji-Yun was caught sneaking away from the work group." There was a suggestion in her voice that Clover might end up in the same boat. It reminded her of her aunt.

"That's it?" Her voice cracked. "Does she even have the right to do that? Isn't this girl supposed to be someone else's property?" The words were sour on her tongue.

"When we're here, we're the property of the Bureau." Jeannette’s voice was dry as she hushed the injured girl, who'd started whimpering quietly. "You'll get used to this sort of thing, eventually."

Clover was struck silent by the resignation in that statement, only able to watch as the inflamed skin was cleaned and medicated. And as they returned to their work crew, she found the injury hard to forget. The intentionality of it left her skin crawling, but it was the way things went on as normal that made the biggest impression. Ji-Yun went back to masking her pain, silently accepting her punishment. Jeannette was quieter, but went on with her work like all the others. The resounding disinterest both enraged her, and exhausted her.

How was she supposed to stay angry with humans when her own kind was so disinterested? The apathy was overwhelming, and by the end of the day it had doused what was left of Clover's fighting spirit.