Chapter 15

Saturday December 23, 2027, The White Tower

Allegra drew a red line beneath the last name on the page and looked up. “That’s the first five. All seem to be happy.”

Dale leaned forward, elbows on the table. “Good. Now we need the next cohort ready before Founders’ Week ends. I want at least fifty done before the new year.”

Tom shifted in his seat. “You think we’ll have that many takers?”

Polina replied without looking up. “We’re scaling fast. We’re over 2,200 now. Discipline will slip if we don’t lock down households.”

Allegra tapped the table twice. “Next on the list: Tom, Joe, Sven.”

The room quieted slightly.

Joe raised an eyebrow. “We’re really doing this?”

“You’re high-ranking,” Allegra said, evenly. “You’re visible. If we expect obedience from everyone else, it has to start with us.”

“I don’t mind being visible,” Joe said, “but I’m not sure pretending is useful.”

“No one’s asking you to pretend,” Dale said. “Just to take a partner. Someone who knows what it is and why it matters. You’ll live together. Sleep together. Raise children.”

“And if it doesn’t work?” Tom asked.

“Then we try again with someone else,” Allegra said bluntly. “You’re not being punished. You’re being trusted.”

Clare shuffled through her notes. “For all three of you, we’ve identified women who are fertile, stable, and ... flexible. They’ve been briefed. They understand what they’re signing up for.”

Sven leaned back in his chair. “Let me guess. Polina picked them?”

Polina smirked faintly. “Allegra approved. I just keep track of who bleeds when and how often they’ve been in the infirmary.”

Allegra passed three folded slips across the table. “One each. Their names. You can meet them tonight. Sleep on it if you want, but I want answers by tomorrow.”

Tom took his slip and glanced at the name. “She’s the one from Shoreditch? The tall one?”

Allegra nodded. “Annie. She’s sharp, she doesn’t complain, and she volunteered.”

Joe unfolded his. “Anya. I remember her. Quiet.”

“She’s practical,” Clare said. “No drama. No jealousy.”

Sven pocketed his without looking. “Fine.”

“Good,” Dale said. “That’s what leadership looks like.”

There was a silence. Not hostile, but loaded.

Polina broke the pause. “If we want this to stick, we need visible rewards. The right incentives.”

“Already planned,” Allegra said. “Married couples—especially first-wave—get priority access. Privacy, better quarters.”

Dale nodded. “Leadership pairs that marry—like you three—get cottages inside the inner grounds. They’ll need refitting, but the structures are sound. Stone walls, fireplaces, intact roofs.”

Tom raised an eyebrow. “We’re moving out of the Tower?”

“Not completely,” Dale said. “But the Tower’s getting crowded. Cottages free up space for command operations and new intake. You’ll still report in daily. But you’ll have your own door, your own bed, and no one listening from the next mattress.”

Joe smirked. “So I get a wife, a fireplace, and plausible deniability. Cozy.”

Sven gave a dry chuckle. “Call it a marriage of public and private interest.”

Allegra didn’t blink. “What you do in private isn’t my concern. What matters is appearances, duty, and children. You hold your end up—she holds hers.”

Tom gave a half-shrug. “Fair trade.”

Joe grinned. “I’ll keep the romance under control.”

Clare suppressed a smile. “We’ll monitor pregnancies. Quietly.”

Polina tapped her pen. “Everyone else stays communal. Married couples only get private flats. If they want privacy, comfort, better sleep—it comes with commitment.”

Allegra nodded. “We need to make marriage aspirational. Something people want.”

Dale leaned forward. “And we build around it.”

He gestured toward the map as Allegra unfolded a second sheet. “St Katharine’s Docks becomes the first residential sector. Married couples get assigned there. Singles stay in the Tower or temporary barracks.”

Sven whistled low. “Big upgrade.”

“They earn it,” Dale said. “They swear in, they settle down, they start contributing for the long haul.”

Tom’s eyes moved to the river lines. “Outside the walls they’ll need more security.”

“We post guards on the bridges immediately,” Dale said. “Tower, London, Southwark, and Blackfriars. 24-hour rotation. It was high time we controlled the border anyways. In the other direction we have our buffer zones and need to start thinking outposts.”

Sven looked sceptical. “That’s a lot of bodies to post.”

“We’ve got them,” Polina said. “We’ve been sorting the new arrivals. Put them in uniform, give them basic training, and rotate in shifts.”

Allegra leaned over the map. “We keep them close. Inside the perimeter at first. Docks are ringed by water—we make that work for us.”

Polina made a final note. “We’ll announce it with the Founders’ Day speech. Formal rollout. Clear criteria. Loyalty, discipline, and children.”

Dale pushed back from the table. “This is how we move forward. Not in chaos. Not in sentiment. But with order—and roots.”

Allegra gave a small, satisfied smile. “Let them see what’s possible. Then let them want it.”

The dim lanterns cast soft, restless shadows against the White Tower’s heavy stone walls. The air was slightly stale, scented faintly by old upholstery and. Muted voices echoed gently off the stone, lending the gathering an oddly church-like hush.

Allegra stood quietly, observing the small circle gathered on mismatched couches they’d dragged together—a private space for leadership and their close associates. Her sharp eyes settled on Dale, comfortably at the centre of attention, a faint smile on his lips as he listened patiently to another of Nicole’s stories. Allegra didn’t mind Nicole; she was useful—obedient, unthreatening, predictable.

But tonight Allegra’s concern was elsewhere.

Her gaze shifted discreetly across the room to Lena—thirty, blonde, strikingly attractive, and fully aware of that advantage. The flirting had started earlier, Lena initiating as usual—subtle smiles, teasing comments, gazes held just slightly too long. Dale inevitably responded, drawn by Lena’s confident charm. Allegra knew that look—the way his attention lingered. It was curiosity, not obsession, but even curiosity could lead to trouble.

Allegra exhaled slowly, her jaw tightening. Lena’s rebellious streak wasn’t news—she’d tested boundaries before. Impulsive, defiant, and worst of all, ambitious enough to believe she could rewrite the rules. It wasn’t that Lena wasn’t useful—she was. Wastage was down by a third under her watch, and Polina now deferred to Lena without even realizing it. That was precisely the issue. Lena had made herself indispensable.

“Lena,” Allegra called softly, forcing warmth into her voice. “Come give me a hand.”

Lena hesitated, annoyance flickering briefly across her face before she rose, gracefully detaching herself from the circle and approaching Allegra.

“Something wrong?” Lena asked, eyes glittering with suspicion.

“No,” Allegra replied lightly, guiding Lena toward a shadowed corridor. “Just a quick word.”

From across the room, Nicole’s gaze flickered briefly toward them. She said nothing, quickly looking away, but Allegra didn’t miss it. People were always watching, always interpreting.

Once safely out of earshot, Allegra dropped the pretence, turning sharply.

“You’re not going to sleep with Dale,” she said softly but firmly. “The flirting stops now.”

Lena blinked, momentarily startled. Then defiance replaced confusion. “He seems interested enough.” Her voice lowered, briefly genuine. “I thought getting his attention might secure my place here.”

Allegra deliberately took a half-step closer, invading Lena’s personal space just slightly—not enough to provoke openly, but enough to silently underline who held the power.

“This isn’t about interest,” Allegra said calmly, voice cold as steel. “We can’t have people thinking warming his bed is how they move up. You’re capable enough without it.”

Lena crossed her arms, eyes narrowing slightly. “Seems like you set those rules after you got yours.”

Allegra felt the insult twist sharply but kept her composure, her voice dangerously soft. “You know better than that. Don’t mistake tolerance for weakness. You’re here because you’re useful—but everything has limits. Crossing lines here isn’t forgiven or forgotten. I am the gatekeeper.”

Lena hesitated—not cowed, just calculating, carefully weighing risk and reward.

“I want to help,” Lena finally said, voice low and thoughtfully defiant. “But I won’t be boxed in.”

“You won’t be, if you respect exactly where the lines are,” Allegra replied, tone firm but fair.

A tense silence stretched. Lena finally nodded, tight-lipped, and returned—deliberately taking a seat away from Dale.

Allegra watched Lena return to her seat, mentally recalculating her usefulness against the risk she represented. Lena was sharp enough to be essential, ambitious enough to be dangerous. Managing her carefully would be critical. At least for now, she’d made her point.

Moments later, Allegra felt Dale’s eyes on her. He’d noticed and risen. She approached him easily.

“What was that about?” Dale asked quietly, guarded but curious.

Allegra leaned in slightly, voice comforting. “She’s trouble, Dale.”

Dale exhaled sharply, half-smiling, half wary. “Didn’t realize you’d started deciding that for me.”

She smiled gently, fingertips grazing his arm. “Someone has to watch your blind spots. This place runs because people know where they stand. Letting everyone think warming your bed equals advancement undermines order. We can’t afford that.”

His eyes met hers, a quiet battle of wills in the silence. Allegra held his gaze firmly, knowing precisely how to soften him.

“Besides,” she murmured, slipping her hand deliberately along his thigh, sensing his pulse quicken beneath her touch, “you’re hardly deprived, are you?”

Dale chuckled softly, tension easing—but part of him wondered, as always, how many of his choices were truly his own. Still, her touch was distracting enough to quiet that voice. “I suppose not.”