Jenny shifted uncomfortably on the pile of earth that had been put on the bricks to make a floor on the abandoned building, the tarp above them flapping in the rain. The two workers, their eyes glued to the soap opera that was in front of them made her nervous so she tapped her gun. She glanced at Tom, her heart racing. They had to be careful—her father's word's still echoed in her ears. If she did not go with Tom her father would not have enough money to send her brothers to rehab. Not that it really was rehab. It was just a box where they sent people to sleep and detoxified their bodies.

"Tom," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of raindrops. "Do you really have enough money to support me if I go with you?"

Tom's eyes met hers, rainwater streaming down his face. "Jenny," he said softly, "I've been saving for years. The robots took all the waitress jobs, but I found a way to make a living. We can start fresh elsewhere. Look around every year more hurricanes hit. Every year more and more people are given drugs. Why stay here? If the gangs do not get you the acid rain or famines will."

Jenny's mind raced. She wanted security—a future where she didn't have to worry about scraping by. But was Tom telling the truth? Could she trust him? The workers shifted, their gazes unwavering.

"Tom," Jenny pressed, raindrops clinging to her hair, "how much do you really have?"

He leaned closer, rain dripping from his chin. "Enough," he murmured. "Enough to give us a chance. I have no plans to be sent to a death camp when I am older."

Jenny's heart fluttered. She had to decide—stay and face her father's wrath or go with Tom. There was nothing for her in what had been her home

As the tarp rustled above them and rain pattered on its surface, Jenny wondered if this was her chance for a secure future or just another desperate gamble in a world where nothing was certain. Jenny pulled out a burner phone and made a call she hoped she would not regret.

Jenny stood under the tarp, raindrops pattering against the fabric. The comfortable feeling of her gun let her know she had some control over the situation. Her phone clutched in one hand, she listened to her father's voice on the other end. The conversation had taken an unexpected turn. She had agreed to marry Tom, but she hadn't yet told him about the arrangement. Now, with the rain drumming overhead, she was about to broach a delicate topic: a prenuptial agreement.

"Jenny," her father said, "you know how important it is to protect your interests. Tom is a good man, but life can be unpredictable."

She nodded, even though he couldn't see her. "I understand, Dad."

"Listen," he continued, "you need to negotiate a decent prenup. It's not about mistrust; it's about being practical. You have nothing but you do not want him to sell your eyes or lungs to someone when he is done with you. You need to spell out what happens if things don't work out."

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Jenny glanced at Tom. He was creepy and cold but she had no choice but to marry him. She took a deep breath.

"Okay," she said into the phone. "I'll talk to Tom about it. Worst comes to worst I have Betsy" Jenny rubbed Betsy her gun and smiled at Tom. If he got out of hand she knew which piece of Tom Betsy was shooting off first.

Her father's voice softened. "Good girl. And remember, Jenny, this isn't about killing him for giving you the odd smack it's about being smart. If it looks like he is going to kill you then you shoot him and grind up his body."

As she hung up, Jenny wondered about Tom.

Tom had worked for Bring Out Your Dead the worst and most evil corporation the world had ever seen. He was most likely a control freak.

Jenny stood under the tarp, raindrops pattering on the canvas above her head. The air smelled of damp earth and anticipation. She glanced at Tom, her soon-to-be husband, who stood beside her. They were both drenched, but it didn't matter. Not when their lives were about to change forever. Jenny gave Tom a cold look "Fine I will marry you."

An **arranged marriage**—a concept that felt both archaic and terrifying. Jenny had grown up in Florida, where the sun kissed the orange groves and the ocean waves whispered secrets. At least it had now days hurricanes hit every year and there was a real risk of starving to death. She had loved the warmth, the familiarity of her hometown. But now, she faced a future that seemed as uncertain as the stormy skies above. She had seen families turn on each other and old Cordilla taken from her home screaming for help.

Tom cleared his throat, breaking into her thoughts. "Jenny," he said, his voice steady despite the rain. "I need to tell you something."

She turned to him, water dripping from her hair. "What is it?"

He hesitated, then spoke in a low tone. "I am thinking of applying for a job in my old corporation **Death Corporation**."

Jenny's heart skipped a beat. Death Corporation—the name alone sent shivers down her spine. She'd heard rumors about their clandestine operations, their influence that reached far beyond corporate boardrooms. Not that the law meant much anymore They were more than just an evil corporation; they were a force to be reckoned with.

"Why?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the rain.

Tom's eyes met hers, and she saw something there determination "It is the best option," he said. "It is not like the desert islands that are there are easy to acquire. All the natives have been killed off by people who got there before us. Which means they are ready to kill again."

"But at what cost?" Jenny pressed. "You know they killed my neighbor right?"

He looked away, raindrops clinging to his lashes. "Well look at me and Burt." he admitted. "Alright Burt is dead but he she managed to evade the collectors for years. They are not targeting old people anymore. Its the young people who have been addicted to pain killers they are going to kill next."

Jenny's mind raced. She thought of her brothers. They had been given pain killers by there teachers just like Finbarr her cousin who had died from a overdose. Only the fact Finbarr teacher had died violently soon after Finbarrs death had stopped the drug companies giving them free samples.

Jenny signed "Fine but if you go to work for those drug dealing monsters again. I need you to keep my family safe." Tom looked into the distance "I will try but lets face it. Its not like a conscious is worth much anymore." "A soul Tom. Its not like your soul is worth much anymore"