The Fallen (Annual Game Night: Sector Five Alphas #3)

Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

Sister Emily Agnes

Five Days Until Game Night

T he abbey is quiet, solemn. It’s as if everyone is holding their breath. But now, I see why. In my former convent, we were not in a sector that practiced Game Night. And even if we were, it’s not as if we made much contact with the outside world.

The idea is still foreign to me. It’s something I cannot wrap my head around. But I understand Father Draven’s concern now. He’s worried he’ll accost us, but I know differently. He’s a good man. A holy man. He’s infallible.

Spooning breakfast between my lips, I find I have no appetite. Everyone is still and pensive, nothing like the jolly merriment I’m used to with them. Was Game Night last year really that bad? No one seems to want to talk about it outside of perfunctory details.

And that’s only the ones that will talk about it. Several others simply cross themselves and go on to other things. A sigh flits through my lips as I push away from the table and clear my space. Perhaps tutoring will help take my mind off things.

Unfortunately, the moment I step outside the abbey, I know that’s not the case. What once were vibrant stores and shops now stand shuttered. They’re not closed down. Not yet. But heavy iron bars line the windows and cover the doors. It’s as if the entire area has undergone a transformation overnight.

The omegas out and about speak in hushed tones as they look around, their glances swift and furtive. It’s not even time for the implant to be turned off, but their fear hangs palpable in the air. I feel it wash over me as I do my best to minister to them. But what do I have to offer? What have I to say?

I’m a sequestered little lamb, safe from all the evils and horrors threatening to beset them.