The blood drains from my face when I see how fucked-up Damian’s mouth is from that kick.
“You don’t own her. She’s mine, got it? When you look at her, I want you think of me kicking your face in,” Cameron says while staring at me with frosty, unmoving eyes.
There’s no light in them. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. I know he’s only saying those words because he literally has to protect me down here. My eyes flick to the blood on the cement. Cameron’s gaze will haunt me if I stare too long.
I don’t hear Damian’s gurgling acknowledgment to Cameron, I only hear the deep breaths Cameron takes. After a moment, he drops the asshole’s head and stands.
A few of Damian’s friends rush to help him up. Cameron walks my way and stops at my side, muttering, “Guess the bed is ours.”
I hesitate before looking up at him. “Why did you say that I’m yours?” My chest twists with anger. “Everyone will think?—”
“They’ll know that if they fuck with you, they’re going to have to deal with me too,” he replies smoothly, tactically.
That’s what I assumed, but he didn’t have to make it sound so possessive. I nod.
Cameron returns his eyes to mine and gives me a smug expression. “You’re welcome.” I ignore his comment and gently press my hand to the back of my head, wincing at the pain. Cameron stares down at me for a moment before adding: “You put up a decent fight. I’m surprised someone like you knows how to handle herself.” His compliment has a sharp side to it.
“Yeah, well, a woman has to learn to be tough in a world like this one,” I grumble. My mouth is raw from Damian’s punch, and the taste of iron still clings to my tongue. I’m just glad I still have all my teeth, unlike Damian.
“Let’s head back before any more of them want to fight us,” Cameron mutters, nudging my arm to get me moving back to the barracks.
Cameron follows behind me as I walk toward the long hallway. I cast a wary glance behind us at the crowd of cadets. He’s right, they’re already shoving one another and gearing up for others to spar. Is this how they all act down here? Fighting like animals and then pretending everything’s fine? Everyone seems so detached as they continue watching the violent fights. Some go back to moving around the Under like it’s normal for someone to have their teeth kicked in.
“Why would you need to be tough?” Cameron’s voice draws my attention away from the Under and back to him. “You look like you were born with a silver spoon in your mouth,” he mutters, sounding annoyed. Well, he’s not technically wrong.
The Mavestellis are one of the richest families in the Northwest. I was the sole child to my parents, the last of the bloodline due to infertility on the male side of our gene pool. But as I’ve learned the hard way, being born into a wealthy family doesn’t mean you get off easy. Half the time I was away at the underworld’s boarding school, and the other half I was home, being mentored by Reed in ways to kill a person. The only solace I ever had was Reed finding solutions to all my problems. If I was failing in classes, he’d threaten the professors and make them change my grades. When I confessed that I couldn’t follow through with being the executioner, he found a way to help me dissociate and disconnect from the work by turning something ugly, like the aftermath of the underworld, into something thought-provoking. No matter how disturbing and awful it truly was—it helped.
I think he prided himself on helping me become more like him. A monster.
A dark cloud looms in my heart. I don’t like thinking about my childhood. I don’t like thinking about my adulthood either.
I just hope my mom is okay.Without me there, who will take all the verbal abuse from Greg? Reed does his best to keep my father’s attention on work, but he can only do so much. I’m sure Greg got off with no charges. It’s not like he hasn’t paid off the police and the judge before.
“Did youhaveto kick his teeth in?” I change the subject away from my past before I have the chance to completely spiral. It’s not like I think Cameron of all people would know of the Mavestelli name, but he’s intelligent and I don’t want him putting two and two together, especially since I know he’s collecting the articles about my crimes. At least all the articles were vague and didn’t disclose my gender or physical appearance.
He lifts a brow. “I didn’t, but it was better than my thumbs in his eye sockets, right?”
A nervous laugh bubbles up from my throat. He’s certifiably insane. “Yeah, that is better.”
Cameron sits on the edge of our bed. I’m not excited at how small it is; we’re going to be sleeping pressed up against one another for weeks. That’s a long time to survive someone who kicks teeth in just because it’s better than thumbs in the eyes.
“I should probably show you around and tell you the rules. So let me know when you’re ready and we can start thegrandtour,” Cameron mutters boredly.
I suppress the urge to roll my eyes, instead sparing him a glance. His eyes are inquisitive as he stares back. His pale blond hair is smoothed to the side, and his scent reaches me, the smell of snapped birchwood branches. I trail the forest tattoos on his neck down to his collarbone where they turn into leaves scattering to his shoulders, swallowing at how attractive I findhim even after watching him ruin another person’s face so effortlessly.
Of all things, why must he be lovely?
He’s still the same psychotic man in the cell, but he seems more relaxed now. My lips firm as I recall him taking those pills dry. My fatal flaw is the desire to fix broken things that don’t want or care to be fixed. I’m drawn to them like vultures are to carcasses. Reed didn’t want to be fixed after his parents died in the fire, but with time I was able to mend some of his pieces. Enough that he started smiling again.
“I’m going to shower first,” I say softly, shedding my gray zip-up jacket and tossing it over the sheets.
Cameron looks like he might say something else, but I pass him, disinterested, and head for the bathrooms. As I get closer, I notice that it’s unisex.Of course it is.I internally groan and avoid looking at any of the naked men that are in here. Cameron trails after me, muttering, “I’ll have your Under uniform ready when you’re done. The clothes you wore down here will be burned.”
I acknowledge him with a short wave over my shoulder, focused more on how amazing this hot shower is going to be.
The water is ice cold.
I try several, and none of them warm up. It must be one of their many ways to punish us. I’m starting to think that actual prisons might treat their inmates more fairly than the people in this hellhole do, but at least we have the hope of freedom.
