Julie woke to the unfamiliar scent of eucalyptus and detergent.
For a moment, she kept her eyes closed, clinging to the warm fog of sleep. But then her brain caught up with her body—pink necklace, street, screaming, Roman's arms—
Her eyes snapped open.
She was in a room she'd never seen. Soft gray walls. A neatly made bed. A wide window looking out over a garden she didn't recognize. Everything too clean, too new.
She sat up so fast her vision blurred.
Her shoes were gone. Her bag was gone. And the house was silent.
Julie pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around them. Her fingers brushed the pink necklace.
Still there.
Still eligible.
Still unclaimed-but-taken.
Her breath hitched in her throat, but no tears came—not yet. Her brain was working too fast for tears.
Where was Mara? Had anyone come for her? Could anyone?
She slid off the bed, bare feet pressing into cold hardwood, and moved toward the door. Her hand shook as she tested the knob—
Unlocked.
She swallowed, easing it open.
Roman sat at his desk in a converted office space—files open, tablet glowing with government forms. The claim process wasn't romantic or dramatic. It was paperwork and protocol.
Dean sat across from him, jaw tight.
Roman scrolled, inputting details:
Claimant: Roman Vale
Age: 28
District: North Botanical
Claimed Female: Julie Hayes
Age: 22
Necklace: Pink
Status: Pending Bond Evaluation
Next Step: Color Transition (Pink → Silver)
Dean tapped his fingers against the arm of the chair.
"You're actually pushing it through tonight."
Roman didn't look up. "The sooner it's filed, the sooner she's protected."
Dean exhaled sharply. "Protected. Sure."
Roman ignored the tone.
When the form uploaded, the system pinged.
BOND EVALUATION SET IN 10 DAYS
Roman clicked Confirm.
Roman stood and opened the small safe built into the wall. Inside were velvet boxes, each containing a government-issued necklace.
He selected a silver one—the color indicating a claimed woman in transition.
Dean watched. "You're doing the color change now?"
Roman nodded. "Pink in this district will get her dragged off the street again."
Dean couldn't argue with that.
Roman found Julie standing in the hallway, fingers twisted in her shirt, eyes wide and glassy.
She froze when she saw him.
He held the silver necklace in his hand—no force, no sudden movements. "Come sit."
Julie didn't move.
Roman softened his voice. "I'm not going to touch you. I just need to talk."
Julie hesitated, then padded toward him, small and careful. She sat on the edge of the couch, hands in her lap.
Roman sat across from her so she could see the door if she needed to. He placed the silver necklace on the table between them.
"That color keeps you safe here," he said. "Pink marks you as unclaimed. Silver means you're in transition. No one else can take you."
Julie swallowed. "Transition to what?"
Roman's jaw tightened. He hated this part.
"To bond evaluation."
Julie blinked. "I don't… I don't understand."
Roman exhaled slowly. "By law, once a woman is claimed, the pair has six months to conceive."
Julie's breath hitched.
"If conception doesn't happen," Roman continued, "the woman is either reassigned or taken by the state for forced procurement."
Julie stared at him, horrified.
"So I'm— I'm supposed to—"
"No," Roman cut in. "Not yet. The evaluation determines compatibility. After that, there are steps. Medical assessments. Counseling. It isn't what you think."
He leaned back slightly.
"But the six months start after the evaluation."
Julie's voice shook. "Please don't let them take me."
Roman's eyes darkened. "They won't."
Julie twisted her fingers together. "My friend—Mara. She was with me. Did they—did she get in trouble?"
Roman shook his head. "We intercepted before she made contact. Dean stopped her. She's home."
Julie's shoulders slumped in relief. "Thank you," she whispered.
Roman didn't say it was Dean, not him, who deserved the thanks.
Later that night, Roman stood in the kitchen, tablet ringing as his mother's face appeared on screen—sharp cheekbones, pinned hair, eyes that missed nothing.
"I received the notification," she said without greeting. "A Hayes girl from the Civic Clinic district?"
Roman nodded once. "Bond eval in ten days."
His mother sipped tea. "Six months is generous. Fertility rates in that district are acceptable. You should handle this cleanly."
Roman's jaw flexed. "I will."
"And, Roman?" Her voice cooled. "Do not get sentimental. The Act is not about romance."
The call ended before he could reply.
Dean leaned against the balcony railing outside the guest bedroom, listening to the soft hum of night insects.
Julie was sleeping again—curled under a blanket, necklace on the bedside table, soft breaths barely audible. Vulnerable. And real. Too real.
He closed his eyes and let the memory surface.
He had seen her before. Months ago. At the Civic Clinic, handing out appointment slips and calming children in the waiting area. Hair tied up, cheeks flushed from rushing, voice warm and patient even when the mothers were tired and sharp.
Dean remembered watching her smile at a frightened little girl—gentle, genuine, nothing performative in it. A smile that didn't belong in a world like this.
He'd leaned against the wall longer than he should have, pretending to check his messages. He never approached. Never initiated. He wasn't that kind of man.
He noticed her necklace even then—pink, bright against her throat. Eligibile. Unclaimed.
He'd felt sick.
Not with desire. With the knowledge of what it meant.
And yet here she was, in Roman's house, in Roman's custody, because the world didn't care how gentle she was or how much he'd liked seeing her tuck that little girl's hair behind her ear.
Dean scrubbed a hand down his face.
Roman had asked him once what he would've done if he'd seen a girl he wanted.
Dean had answered honestly.
"I'd leave her alone."
Now he wasn't so sure.
He glanced at the door to her room, then up the hall toward Roman's.
Attraction was too simple a word for what he felt. It was worry. Anger. The urge to shield instead of claim.
Dean exhaled, voice barely audible.
"She deserved better luck."
Julie slept on, unaware.
Roman stood outside his own bedroom door, listening to the house settle.
Dean leaned against the balcony rail, fists clenched.
Three paths in one house.
All orbiting one quiet girl in a silver necklace.
And the six-month clock hadn't even started yet.