Prim and I glare when she pulls out her black card. “Kitten?” I ask.
Amiyah shrugs. “I like cats.”
“Maybe someone calls you kitten?” I ask.
She shakes her head, eyes avoiding mine. “Nope.”
Liar.
We go to the pop-up costume shop, grabbing wings, ears, and tails before heading back to campus. Then we bid Amiyah a goodbye.
“What’s wrong, Primrose?” I ask as we walk into our dorm. Her eyes are far away and when I speak, she flinches.
She pastes on a fake kind smile. “Nothing, Brix.”
I shake my head. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Prim. Whatever demons you’re facing, I’ll help you with the battle.”
“If I don’t pretend, they’ll eat me alive,” she whispers, walking off to her room.
Oh, Prim.
* * *
Blood.So much blood. Soaking through my white dress as I try to find warmth between two stone-cold bodies. A hand presses over my mouth, a man with a bandana tied around his face peers down at me. He places a single finger in front of where his lips should be under the black sheet of the bandana. “Time to wake up, Rabbit.”
My eyes flash open, my mouth gulping air as I stare at the man with the bandana. My body is pinned, pressed into the mattress. My wrists are captured above my head by one strong, firm hand. The cool metal of a blade lightly runs over the beating pulse in my neck. A clean, woodsy aroma washes over me and my stiff limbs fall slack.
Beckett’s eyes reflect the moon, watching his knife intently as if he’s sketching on my skin with it. “Are you ready to play, my little rabbit?”
I swallow, licking my lips. “Yes.”
He presses the side of the blade into my throat, tilting his head to study me. “Why are you not scared?”
“Who says I’m not?”
His hand skates down my body with the knife, cupping my aching core as the knife rests against my stomach. “Your soaking pussy. Do you get off on danger, Rabbit?”
“Maybe,” I whisper.
Beckett’s eyes flash. “Well, you’re about to be a mess when I show you what’s in store for you tonight. Get up.” Beckett crawls off of me, walking over to the window to peer out.
I grab a hoodie to put over my sports bra, slipping on my socks and tennis shoes. I decide against putting on sweatpants over my spandex, because something tells me I need to be able to move easily. “I’m ready,” I say, tying my copper waves into a tight, high ponytail.
Beckett turns, eyes running over me from tip to toe. He points the knife at me. “You may scrape up your legs,” he warns.
I tilt my head, wondering why he would even care, but instead, I say, “I’ve never been scared of scars.”
He pauses, our eyes clashing in the moonlight of my bedroom. He seems to contemplate something and instead of voicing it, he nods, turning to my door. Once outside in the hallway, I pause when I see Vance leaned up against the wall outside Prim’s room. His tattoos give him away every time. Vance looks over to me, sighing. “Put on some pants,” he demands.
“No,” I sass back.
“Fucking hell, woman,” he mumbles, allowing us to pass by him. Irritation rolling off him in waves.
When we reach Beckett’s car that is hidden in the shadows, I pause at the passenger door. Do I really want to do this? I have no clue what is waiting for me. What the next trial holds. But I have to. I have to do this. I have to pass through all of the trials, no matter what.
We drive to the edge of campus in tense silence. Parking next to four other fancy-ass cars with names I don’t know.
There is an abandoned building, several windows busted in, the top floor missing pieces of brick, exposing the old rooms inside. I walk up to the other recruits—only four of us now, two boys and two girls—and ask, “What is this place?”