Steele’s lips twitch in a humorless smile. “It’s more than most ever get.”
Harrington leans in, his eyes the same washed-out blue as the sky on a bad day. “Vivienne does not know and you must not tell her. Neither do you, or rather, you did not until now. Her animosity is a matter of social order, not personal spite. She will be informed when it is advantageous. As for the Hunt, you will not speak of it to anyone and you will attend as directed or face dire consequences. Don’t follow in your mother’s footsteps.”
The word advantageous makes me want to vomit.
“So I’m bait,” I say. “A project. A fucking science experiment.”
Steele shrugs, a tiny movement. “Everyone here is, in their own way. The difference is that you were chosen for greatness. By virtue of your blood, you belong here. By virtue of your mind, you might survive.”
I look at the folder, the photos, the DNA reports, the history I never asked for.
“What if I refuse?” I say.
Harrington’s smile is pure frost. “No one has ever refused. Refusal isn’t an option.”
I want to scream. I want to tear the table apart and gouge his eyes out and burn the whole place to the ground.
Instead, I do what I always do. I breathe. I count my breaths. I file the panic away for later.
Steele stands, which means the meeting is over.
“Prepare yourself,” he says. “The Hunt is in three weeks. You already know Colton. You know what he is capable of. He will claim you, as his, one way or another. If you run, run smart. If you fight, fight to win. If you survive—well. Then, and only then, will you have earned your place.”
They wait for me to leave. I stand on legs that feel like old rubber bands, but I don’t fall.
At the door, I glance back. Harrington’s eyes never leave me.
“Miss Allen,” he says, “your mother would be proud. She always believed you would change everything.”
The words are a trap. I step around them and out into the hall.
I walk fast, the folder clutched to my chest, my heart breaking its speed record in my chest.
Outside, the world is too bright. I blink, and everything comes back in waves: the photo of Vivienne, the note, the way my life was never my own.
I walk to the edge of the quad, stand in the shadow of the old clock tower, and try to piece myself back together.
I think about my mother, about the risk she took, the years she spent hiding me from this place. I think about what it cost her, and what it’s about to cost me.
Then I think of Colton, and the last thing he said to me: “I’ll always come back.”
I hope he does. I hope I survive the Hunt.
Claimed.
I close my eyes, feel the sun on my face, and promise myself that I will never stop fighting. Not until I win, or until I burn this place to ashes.
Maybe both.
The real question is… is Colton friend or foe?
Chapter 10: Colton
Thesecondtheboardroomdoor closes behind Eve, the oxygen gets sucked out of the room. The only thing left is the sound of my pulse, and the way my nails dig into my palm.
Harrington doesn't look at me. He doesn't need to. He's already won.
My fist hits the table hard enough that something in my wrist crunches. The mahogany splits, a hairline fracture that crawls out in both directions. The pain is sharp and clean. Better than air.
