The grip on her arm is harder than Price has ever held her. “Hey! Will you—”

The words catch in her throat when she makes eye contact with an older man. His face is carved with wrinkles and there’s a scar across his nose. He sneers and she gets a whiff of his breath that makes her stomach curl in on itself.

“I’ve been looking for you for almost three days. You’re a hard girl to get ahold of,” he says. His voice is gritty, and he pulls her closer. “Then that dumbass found you first and he doesn’t even know how to get information without getting soft and letting the contact guilt him into releasing her. Figures he wouldn’t be able to separate personal life from the job at hand.”

Lynell’s breaths are quick and short and her heart beats faster. She can’t even comprehend what he’s said about Price or the fact that he called her a “contact.” What the heck is a “contact?” His hold on her arm is too painful and the fear building in her chest is even more overwhelming than when she heard Price Register her. She claws at his hand and glances around for help desperately. A guard starts toward them.

“Let go of me! Help!” she shouts, pulling away from the man. She turns to the guard. “Help!”

The man pulls a paper and ID out and shoves them in the guard’s face.

No. No, no, no, no. Lynell looks from the stranger to the paper to the guard, her world melting in front of her.

“You Lynell Mize?” the guard asks. The question is rhetorical. He can surely tell from the paper and her photo displayed on the front that the Registration is legal.

“I’ve Registered her,” the man confirms. His grip somehow gets tighter and Lynell gasps. Her legs give out from under her and she falls to her knees, which forces her arm into a weird angle and sends pain dancing through her arm.

“Well, keep it civil or take it outside,” the guard says.

Wait, Lynell wants to yell. Can’t you see he’s hurting me? But the air seems taken from her lungs and she can’t gather the energy to say anything.

“Get up,” the man orders, pulling at Lynell’s arm.

She moves to her feet and sways, taking a deep breath. She half-heartedly tries to tug her arm out of his grip again.

“Who—?” she gasps.

“Shut up.” He pulls her against his chest, lets go of her arms, and grabs both of her shoulders. “Tell me the code.”

She blinks at him. “What?”

He shakes her. “Don’t play dumb. Tell me the code and I’ll kill you faster.”

Lynell looks around. A few rubberneckers have turned to watch the scene with wide, curious eyes. One man even walks closer, his lips twitching into a sick grin as he pulls out a phone and starts taking pictures. Most everyone else has turned away, ignoring just another Registration.