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Chapter 10: Taran

He stops me before we make it ten steps from the room and frowns down at me, his dark gaze considering. Then he rapidly unbuttons his jacket and removes it from his broad shoulders. He drapes it around me, lifting my arms as though I'm a child to tuck them into the overly long sleeves. Next, he buttons the front until my swath of exposed chest and stomach is covered.

I'm stunned. This can't be for my comfort or he would've done it in the interrogation room. Is it possible that he doesn't want others to see my exposed skin? We haven't known each other a day, yet Diogo is acting strangely possessive. Telling Gillert not to touch me, insisting that he be called when the Judge arrives. And now this.

It all seems oddly out of character of the man I imagined him to be. He places a hand at my back and guides me down the hall. I bite my lip, thinking, and then I say, "Won't it make a statement to your people that I'm wearing part of your uniform?"

He glances down at me but doesn't break stride. "It doesn't matter what they think as long as they keep their thoughts to themselves."

"That's exactly what I mean when I call you a dictator, Diogo," I grumble.

"I take your words as a compliment, girl," he says unfazed.

Of course he would.

He leads me to the front of the station again and over to Gillert's desk. The officer stands up, staring at me nervously. He must be worried that I told Diogo he touched me. Twice. I didn't, but that doesn't stop me from flashing him a satisfied grin. The colour seeps from his skin, leaving him pale. He really is afraid of the Warlord.

"Has the Judge arrived?" Diogo asks, his voice becoming cold and distant once more.

"No, Commander," Gillert chokes out.

"Have him sent to my residence then." Diogo turns to leave, turning me with him.

"A-are you taking the prisoner with you?" Gillert spits out, curiosity winning out over good sense. It seems obvious to me that Gillert is disappointed that the woman he considers his personal prize is walking out of the station with his boss.

Diogo stiffens but doesn't address the question. He continues to walk away, as though Gillert is so far beneath him that as soon as he's out of sight he no longer exists. It hits home once again how different Diogo is treating me than he treats others. I glance over my shoulder. Gillert is burning a hole in my back with his twisted gaze. I hope I never again find myself in a room alone with that one.

Diogo escorts me to his vehicle. Once we're both inside I ask, "Why are you taking me to your home?"

"To get you cleaned up," he grunts, keeping his eyes on the road. Vehicles are so rare that the streets are crowded with people, vendors and debris, making it difficult for drivers to navigate. I've become so efficient at transporting myself by other methods that I'd never imagined what it must be like to drive through the city.

Then his words penetrate the fog of my musings. He wants to get me cleaned up? If Diogo thinks I'm going to get naked anywhere near him, he's entirely mistaken. But I don't say that. Instead I say, "Do you often take prisoners back to your home?" He ignores me, so I push. "You don't, do you? You seem like the solitary type to me."

He doesn't look at me, but he growls, "Don't pretend you know me, little girl."

No, I think to myself, but with every passing minute I'm getting to know you better.

When a group of people are too slow to get out of his way, he drives so close to them that I'm sure he'll clip them. "Be careful, there are children out there!"

"Stop speaking, Taran," he says coldly. "I'm weary of your constant challenges."

"Then why are taking me home with you?" I snap, crossing my arms over my chest and glaring at him.

He doesn't speak again and neither do I. There's no point. He's a strange and unpredictable man that seems determined to take the course he's set out. Or maybe he is predictable and he's right, I don't know him at all. But I do know that going to his home makes me very nervous. It somehow feels significant. Like a step forward that I can't take back once I'm in. I should probably try to escape. Jump out of the vehicle and run. But I don't. I won't make it far. Diogo is in top athletic shape and I'm utterly exhausted. I'll go to his home, find out what ‘cleaning up' means and then I'll find a way out. Maybe I'll get a meal out of him before I go.

I lean back in my seat and close my eyes. It's been a long day. I climbed over the wall, I've been searched and arrested. I've been through Gillert's half-assed processing, then Diogo's strange interrogation. Now I'm headed to his house to await prosecution and judgement. I have no idea what that'll look like, but I know I'm probably not going to like it.

"We're here." Diogo's deep voice rouses me and when I open my eyes he's looking at me intently.

I turn to hide my yawn. Did I actually fall asleep?

"Come," he says, his voice gruff. He wraps one of his huge hands around my arm and pulls me through his side of the jeep. I step outside and blink up into the hot sunny afternoon.

I realize that I'm in the elite sector of the city. Not a surprise, but I've never been here before, never had a reason to access this sector. It's surrounded by fencing to help control crime against the wealthy inhabitants. It's stunning. The lush greenery surrounding us has been neatly trimmed and the buildings left standing seem to be in good order. Without people to maintain buildings and cut away the nature, the city was overtaken by greenery after the Great Fall. It's left to grow wild in most sectors, but apparently it gets trimmed back in Sector One. I've never actually witnessed something as frivolous as lawn maintenance in my lifetime.

I stare in awe as Diogo pulls me foreword towards a huge building. I barely have enough time to shade my eyes and look up, and up, at the spectacular high rise before he pulls me inside. It's one of the few tall buildings left standing from old Tucson. Some were burned down during the first and fiercest riots of 38, before martial law was instated. And others were brought down to use for as material for Sanctuary's wall.

"You live in The Tower?" I whisper shakily. The tallest building left standing in Sanctuary, it can be seen from all corners of the city.

"Yes," Diogo says, glancing down at me. He places his hand at my back once more. It's big and broad, takes up nearly half of my back. I don't mind. I almost feel as though I need the comfort. I've just entered a new world.

He pulls me into a staircase and starts climbing. My legs are shaking with fatigue and I groan out loud when we reach the fifth floor. Without pausing, he pulls me to him and lifts me right up into his arms. I gasp and cling to him for a second before I realize that he's carrying me, now running up the stairs at a dizzying speed. He's got incredible stamina. He's not even winded!

"Diogo, I can walk!" I protest, giving his arm a test shove.

He just tightens his grip and keeps climbing. I lose count of all the floors we pass. The stairwell is meticulously maintained with none of the usual shrubbery and debris that can be found in most other buildings as the neglected infrastructure crumbles and collapses all around us.

Diogo stops in front of the door with a giant 20 painted on it, sets me on my feet and unlocks it. He pushes it open and ushers me inside. I take a few quick steps away from him and then glance around. My eye immediately catches on the window. I gasp and approach it, awed by the view. New Tucson Sanctuary lays spread out at my feet, the sun shining brightly across the buildings. I love heights and have always enjoyed the sensation of being high up. Now, as I look out at my city, I feel warmth and belonging to Sanctuary. It's a bittersweet feeling. I had to leave my grandparents behind and forge a relationship with the city and its inhabitants. Had to find my way through loneliness.

"Home," Diogo says gruffly from behind me.

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