CIARA
"Keep your arm still," Dr. Logan said. He kept his eyes fixed on the plastic syringe in his gloved hand. The needle went into the crook of my elbow with a sharp, familiar pinch. I didn't flinch. After weeks of being handled like glass by the Riverstone enforcers, a needle was nothing.
"Is the scent still that strong?" I asked. I pulled my sleeve down the second he drew the needle out, pressing a cotton ball over the small prick. "Even after three baths, Hayes looks like he wants to lock me in the vault every time I walk past the main hall windows."
Logan let out a dry, short laugh. He walked across the small, sterile clinic room and dropped the vial into a metal rack next to his centrifuge. "Three baths won't do anything, Luna. Your skin is pushing out high-grade pheromones. To Ha
