Total pages in book: 53
Estimated words: 47529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47529 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 238(@200wpm)___ 190(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“What is it, pet?”
Her smile brightens a fraction more with that effervescent, wild human glee.
“I told you I’d fuck your world up.”
EPILOGUE
Three months later…
Ark
Jennifer snores softly in my arms. She is exhausted after a long day of being a pain in the ass, earning herself a righteous pain in hers. She is nude from the waist down, her bottom bright red and marked with the lines from the leather rod I have taken to using on her when her behavior demands it. Having been properly disciplined, she is nice and calm. She’s a good girl, even if she would reject that description on the premise alone.
This is the best and most peaceful part of my day, spending time with my mate-pet, the love of my life and the bringer of absolute chaos to my world. I have kept my promise to my pet. I have shown her how to be happy. In return, she has shown me how to fight. She has transformed our family, and indeed, our planet.
We are still occupying my ancestral home, albeit with a little more in the way of security. It is dangerous to live in Euphoria now that ships fall from the sky. There are parts of the city that still bear the scars of the Titan’s explosion. Repairs to buildings and paths have been completed, but the memory lingers in little marks here and there, shadows baked into the material.
The city is operating under an unspoken lockdown. Every street has a guard on it. Surveillance is at an all-time high. People look to the sky far more often in case it might fall. No charges have been laid for the Wrathelder explosion, which is officially an accident, the same way my father’s death from multiple stab wounds was officially considered an accident.
An uneasy truce of sorts seems to be in place between the houses of Wrathelder and Voros. Phenix still lives, but he is cautious and reclusive. He is not seen in society anymore, though he is, unfortunately, involved in transporting humans from Earth. We could not continue to blow up his ships. One explosion might be considered a misfortune. Several in a row would become suspicious. Every shipment brings in a hundred humans, significantly fewer than he initially wanted to transport, but the council is leery of humans now.
There have already been problems with the new shipments, as I predicted. The Wrathelders know nothing about humans, either in their selection or their training. They are bringing in some specimens who are even more trouble than Jennifer. Many of them have already made escapes into the city where they have been seen living wild in the lower recesses and older parts. It is a sad, sorry situation.
Kahn is still fighting the good fight, lobbying the council to ban human importations entirely until the current situation is resolved, but it is becoming apparent that Phenix has some kind of hold over the council.
He has built miserable compounds, where his humans are kept. Sales of human pets are slow, due to multiple incidents in family homes that make Jen’s antics seem tame.
Why the council is seeing fit to allow Wrathelder to create a private human army I do not know, but I do know that events are beginning to compound upon themselves. With every new shipment, ever more chaos is being introduced to our Euphoric civilization, and even more humans are falling into the cruel and predatory clutches of Wrathelder. We have spoken about freeing them, but to let them go would be to let an irreversible influx of wild humanity into the Euphorian wilds. Every bit of disaster we predicted is unfolding just as we said it would.
And, of course, one new danger stalks the streets, a shadowy figure unseen, but very much felt in all matters of politics and practicality…
Emily
I hate running.
I am not made for running. I am made for cozying and snuggling and napping.
Every step is pain.
Every breath is agony.
But I don’t have any choice other than to keep going, because I am running for my life in the interior of an alien vessel, green lights flashing against black floors and walls constructed in uncomfortable triangular shapes that can’t possibly be efficient, or maybe they are, I don’t know. My mind is scattered, panicked, and barely able to keep up with what has happened over the last few unbelievable minutes.
The sound of alien boots pounding against metallic flooring rings in my ears as I scamper into what must be a cargo area. There are crates everywhere, cages and barrels and general supplies. Many of them are from Earth.
Twenty minutes ago, I was sitting outside in my yard, sketching the birds when suddenly gravity stopped working and I started to fall up into the sky.
Twenty minutes ago…
I think about screaming, but there doesn’t seem to be much point. Clutching my number two pencil, I look around to see that across the street, Mrs Travers is also cartwheeling toward the clouds.