Birthright

Birthright

  Birthright Series, Vol. 1

  A. P. Jensen

  Published by A. P. Jensen

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Birthright Series

  Titles by A. P. Jensen

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  In the middle of the Nevada desert, stood an unmarked building with no windows and no sign that it was inhabited. The select few aware of its existence called it Haven and smiled mockingly at the irony of its name.

  Locked in a tiny room, a motionless fifteen-year-old sat Indian style on a narrow cot with her back against the wall. The door swung open to let in a shaft of bright light. A woman with long blonde hair and violet eyes hesitated in the doorway and took in the destruction of the room in silence. A broken lamp, bits of scorched fabric and a set of drawers lay in splinters over the concrete floor, but what was most alarming were the broken bits of metal links littered over the ground like jacks, broken handcuffs.

  The woman stepped cautiously into the room and shadows moved over the ground as four guards crowded into the doorway. The woman’s high heels clicked on the floor as she stopped a safe distance from the bed and examined the teenager warily. The girl’s waist length black hair was matted with sweat, bruises stood out starkly on pale skin and her hands were bloody as if she tried to claw her way through the cement walls. The teen absently drew designs on the mangled pair of cuffs on her lap.

  “Jordan?” Catherine’s voice cut through the teen’s reverie.

  Jordan slowly lifted her head and stared at Catherine with eyes such a dark blue, they appeared black in the dim light. “Catherine?”

  Catherine eased a step closer. “It’s me.”

  “What’s happening to me?” Jordan’s voice was weak and frail.

  Catherine glanced at the guards shifting in the doorway. “You don’t remember?”

  Jordan stared at her bloody hands. “It’s all a blur. I feel strange.”

  “We took you off your pills, honey, but everything’s going to be alright,” Catherine soothed.

  Jordan’s eyes were dilated and unnaturally fevered. “Why would you take me off the pill? What’s happening to me?”

  Catherine smoothed sweaty palms over her slacks and took a step back. “What you’re going through is completely normal.” She didn’t sound convinced. “There’s a man here that can help you.”

  “He can help me? My chest hurts.”

  “He’s a very important man. We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

  “He’ll give me back my pills?”

  “No. He’s going to figure out what’s wrong with you.”

  “But I’ve always been on the pill.” Jordan’s voice trailed off as she noticed gouge marks in the cement that hadn’t been there yesterday. Her fingertips suddenly throbbed.

  “He’ll know what you need. Let’s go.”

  Jordan didn’t move. One of the guards eased away from the others.

  “We don’t want to hurt you,” he said.

  Jordan’s eyes flicked over the guard with the baton clipped to his belt. She had a vague recollection of this guard pinning her to the bed and handcuffing her yesterday. Her eyes narrowed on his bruised face.

  “But you will,” Jordan said coolly and deliberately dropped the damaged handcuffs on the floor.

  The guard’s hand hovered over the baton. “Yes.”

  “If you cooperate, they won’t need to restrain you again,” Catherine put in.

  Jordan fixed her gaze on Catherine as she slowly, painfully eased to the edge of the bed and rose. “You promised.”

  The guards all looked at Catherine who paled and fluttered her hands nervously. “I know I did. Just trust me.”

  Catherine walked out of the room, bits of burnt fabric stuck to her heels. The four guards waited for Jordan to exit before they followed her into the hallway. Jordan’s eyes watered under the unmerciful fluorescent lighting. She followed Catherine down a long hallway lined with narrow black doors identical to Jordan’s with the bare minimum of furniture and comfort for the teen within.

  Male and female guards dressed in black escorted teenagers through Haven and pulled their charges to the side as Catherine approached. The guards bowed their heads respectfully to Catherine who dressed in a stylish blood red business suit.

  Jordan looked boldly at the guards that yielded to their entourage, but none of them met her eyes. She tried to catch the attention of a kid she passed around twelve years old. He walked zombielike, eyes glazed and face expressionless. He didn’t even see her. The second teen Jordan passed was around thirteen. She had a giddy smile on her face and leaned against her guard for support.

  Catherine turned a corner into another long hallway and Jordan glimpsed other hallways extending into every direction, all lined with narrow black doors. Haven was a maze of hallways that seemed to lead to nowhere.

  Jordan took in every detail. Her senses were strangely raw and sensitive. Every sound, every detail jumped out at her, unfamiliar and unsettling. How long had it been since she’d seen sunlight? How many years had she been here? Did all of the kids in Haven take the pill like her?

  Pain slammed into Jordan’s chest and she staggered sideways. Cold sweat covered her body and her breath came out in ragged gasps. It felt as if her insides were being seared by flames.

  “I need the pill,” Jordan wheezed.

  “No, the pain will pass,” Catherine said.

  Jordan clawed her chest, desperate to escape the agony. “What’s wrong with me?”

  Catherine didn’t answer. She continued down the hall while the guards dragged Jordan along, holding her up by her arms. Jordan’s group passed a huddle of guards surrounding a large male on his hands and knees. His clothes were ripped and blood coated a silver chain around his neck. He looked up as Jordan passed. He was built like a linebacker with hazel eyes and shaggy brown hair covering half of his face. He panted, one hand pressed to his chest. There were equal bits of understanding and confusion in their eyes as they looked at one another.

  A short time later, Catherine stopped in front of a closed door. Her lips curled in distaste as she took in Jordan’s mussed and bloodied appearance.

  “No time,” she muttered.

  Without further ado, Catherine opened a door and propelled Jordan inside.

  “Do whatever he says,” Catherine said before she slammed the door.

  Jordan slumped to her knees on the floor. As the pain eased, she raised her head. Unlike the rest of Haven, the walls in this room were a warm peach. Even the pale color after years of seeing shades of gray was a shock to her senses. Instead of standard utilitarian furniture, this room had chocolate brown couches and a fountain in the corner that let out the soothing sound of running water.

  On the couch sat a man in a black suit and tie. He had short sandy blonde hair and startling black eyes. He was in his late forties. He didn’t seem perturbed by her bloody appearance. He waved an elega
nt hand to indicate she take the couch across from him.

  Jordan slowly got to her feet and tensed her muscles to run. Through necessity, her will to survive had been honed to recognize and avoid predators. No man in her life frightened her as much as the man watching her so calmly, gesturing for her to join him on the couch. She looked at him closely, trying to pinpoint what was triggering her alarms, but there was nothing on the surface to suggest he would attack.

  “Come, I’ve heard a lot about you,” he said.

  He didn’t move, but Jordan got the impression that she wouldn’t leave the room without his consent. Panic and fear clawed her insides, amplifying her chest pain. Jordan forced her hands to relax and started forward. She widened her eyes, softened her lips and fell back on a look of wide-eyed innocence and eagerness she perfected in her youth. She prayed it would be enough to fool this man and get through whatever was going to happen in this peach colored room. She had a feeling, she would never be the same.

  The man held out a hand with a smile on his face. “My name is William.”