Twisted Metal Heart - Eve Langlais Page 0,12

fall off balance. His single leg buckled, sending him hard to the floor.

He lay there for a moment, humiliated and humbled. Anger wouldn’t get him anywhere. He needed to push it down. Let it simmer.

He couldn’t afford to let either rage or despair take over. He shoved himself to a knee with only one arm to balance. Balancing on his foot, he strained to push himself up, grabbing the bed to help.

As he managed to stand, the door opened without a knock, and Titan looked over to see a man roll in, literally. The guy, wearing a white coat buttoned past his thighs, balanced on a single metal leg with wheels on the bottom that glided across the floor toward him with only the smallest of hums. He was older than Titan by a good twenty, maybe thirty years. His appearance was still youthful, if gray around the edges. The expression was not welcoming in the slightest.

He grimaced. “You shouldn’t be out of bed.”

“I think four days of lying around is more than long enough.”

The man arched a brow. “Lying around? You almost died.”

“So I keep hearing.” Rather than whine, he leaned against the bed for support. “Guess you want me grovel my thanks as well. Blubber how happy I am you saved my sorry ass.”

“Not in the slightest. My advice to Riella was to let you die outside. She instead took you in.”

Titan blinked. “She wanted to save me?” And this fellow had tried to stop her. It brought his glare to the surface.

“She is too kind by far. Upon realizing the extent of your injuries, I reiterated my professional opinion that you should be eliminated. She ignored me.” A callous statement.

“I should fucking throw you outside to wrestle with the tigbers and see how well you fare.”

“I’d have acquitted myself better than you, I wager,” the man coolly replied, his mustache barely moving.

“You and Riella have a real shitty bedside manner.”

“And your anger is wasted on me. I really do not care how you feel,” said the supercilious bastard. “Now if you’re done with your complaints, lie down on the bed.”

“I don’t think so. How about we start with who the fuck are you?”

“I am Alfred.”

“Alfred…” He waited. “Of what? Are you a citizen?”

“Hardly,” was the dry reply.

“Why are you here?” he asked, desperate for answers that might make sense because the more he learned, the more he wondered if he’d died outside in the tigber ambush and now found himself in some kind of fucked-up afterlife.

“I’m here because Riella is here.”

“Is she related to you?”

“You ask too many questions,” Alfred stated. “Lie down.”

“Not until I know why you are out here. Are you and Riella citizens or enemies of the Enclave?”

“Whether we are or not is none of your business.”

“I’m making it my business.”

Alfred sneered. “Spoken as if your opinion matters. It doesn’t, in case that wasn’t clear. You shouldn’t be here. If it weren’t for Riella, I’d dump you outside and let the tigber finish you.”

The reminder of their claws brought a phantom shiver to his left side. “I assure you I want to leave as much as you want me to. But I’m going to need a bit of help. Can’t exactly hop home. Riella said something about fitting me with limbs.”

“She insisted,” Alfred grumbled.

“You don’t agree.”

“Despite her experiences, I think Riella is naïve and that you are dangerous.”

“I have no interest in her. She is quite safe from me.” Even if she was beautiful, her hair a shade of auburn that surely wasn’t natural, her shape pleasing to the eye.

“As if you’d admit any nefarious designs. Keep in mind she is more dangerous than she looks.”

Titan already knew that. He wasn’t sure how he felt about a woman that could lift him with ease.

“Lie down or I will sedate you.”

He didn’t doubt this Alfred would. Titan lay down. “How did she lose her arm?”

“That’s not my story to tell.”

He wondered if it was the reason for her exile. The Enclave sought perfection, and he was aware of what happened to those that didn’t fit the mold. At best, they were shipped to a dome that didn’t care about flaws. At worse, they were exiled to the Wasteland, where many died if they didn’t learn to survive or band with those who understood how to do it.

“Why do you want me lying down anyhow?”

“To check on the fittings of the harness.”

A reply that made no sense. “Don’t you surgically attach the limbs?”

“Yes and no.”

Which wasn’t

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