Page 5 of Somno Slave

“Pretty please!” Her voice pitches. “I want you there! Come on, you said you would!”

“Yes, I know,” I say guiltily. “But you know the deal, Liv. If something important comes up—"

“I’msomething important!” She wails. “Rheda, you promised!”

“Okay! Okay!” I relent quickly, knowing she’ll only cause a scene and this whole conversation will be stretched for another fifteen minutes until I finally give in. Olivia doesn’t take no for an answer.

“I’ll be there.” I agree. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Yay!” Her squeal pierces through the screen like an alarm. Her smile snaps back into place, bright and careless. “I’ll hold you to that.”

I swallow hard.

Someone behind her shouts something. Her head snaps left.

“Sambuca?” She gasps. “Okay, yes, I’m coming!”

She turns back to me.

“Love you, Rheda. Got to go. My birth-week celebrations start now!” she says quickly. “I’ll see you Friday.”

The call ends with another burst of laughter, the screen going dark again, plunging the room back into quiet.

I stare at my reflection for a moment in the dim lighting of my home screen: the faint outline of my face; the way my eyesdon’t quite look like they belong to me when the light hits them like this. The silence seems heavier now. I swallow down the lump in my throat, my mind circling.

My eyes flick to the time again, and I curse.

I have lost sleeping time I cannot really spare.

With a groan, I sink lower into my bed and finally pull at the duvet, yanking it over myself until I’m in a cocoon. I place my phone on the bedside cabinet and roll over. But just as I find a comfortable position, it rings again.

Different tone.

My stomach drops before I even answer. I know exactly what it’s going to say.

“Rheda Ainsley.” The voice is clipped. “Report back to the unit.”

I blink. “I just left. I’m not on shift until—”

The line goes dead. Just like that. No goodbye. No explanation. No clarification.

I keep the phone to my ear a second longer anyway, listening to the silence.

Work.

My shoulders tighten.

Of course it is.

I lower the phone slowly. Then I force myself to move.

My blouse sticks slightly to my back as I reach for my shoes. Fatigue presses behind my eyes, heavy and bruising, but it doesn’t matter. Work never waits for me to catch up to it.

It just calls.

And I always go.

Chapter Three