“That after one good look at you, I can see you’ve been playing the victim instead of trying to live.” There was no more frisky tone in Maryanne’s voice, no more playful looks. “Yeah your situation sucks; yeah it’s not what you wanted. But it is what it is. And I know you… I can just see you stagnating instead of adapting, all stubborn to the point it hurts. He might not be Prince Charming, but it’s safe here. He feeds you. You have it better than almost everyone else under the Dome.”

Looking to be near the brink of ripping off her guest’s head, Claire hissed, “Did he tell you to say that?”

“Do I look like I’d do anything he tells me to?”

“Of course you do.” Narrowing her eyes, Claire mouthed, “You needed friends once… that’s your friend sitting in the corner now.”

For a second Maryanne looked stricken, and then grew coldly composed. “You don’t know what it was like down there, Claire. Even you would have done anything to get out. And no, he didn’t tell me to say that. It’s my own opinion.”

“Well, from your life decisions, it’s clear your judgment isn’t always the best.”

“That look in your eye”—the blonde settled back, just as unhappy as her friend—“I know what it means. You know I’m right. And yeah, I’ve fucked up. I am what I am. But you still love me.”

“I do, you cunt.”

Sudden heavy warmth settled on Claire’s nape. She tensed, unaware Shepherd had silently come up behind her. His thumb stroking her spine, he spoke, “That will be enough for today.”

Claire stood to say goodbye, Shepherd maintaining his hold on her neck. “I’m sorry I snapped at you, Maryanne.”

“You shouldn’t be.” Maryanne smiled softly. “You’re allowed to be bitchy; you’re pregnant. Before you know it, you’ll also be fat.”

And just like that, Claire was chuckling again, stepping out from under Shepherd’s shadow to embrace her friend. Standing on tiptoe, Claire pecked Maryanne’s lips, the close friends’ customary goodbye.

And it had been a mistake.

Shepherd snarled, Claire darting back against him, begging, “Don’t hurt her!”

“She’s like my sister, Shepherd,” Maryanne tried to pacify, failing to hide the fear in her voice. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“You will not kiss her again.” An arm came around Claire’s waist, keeping her locked to his side as Shepherd shouted a stream of foreign words towards the door.

The bolts were thrown and the door opened so Ms. Cauley could be escorted out by a parade of armed Followers. Even as the door was closing, Shepherd pressed Claire to the wall. She heard his zipper, the impatience of Shepherd’s growl as he lifted her skirt, and he was inside her in a quick thrust.