“Take him to processing,” I tell Grayson. “Make sure he understands the consequences of failure.”
Grayson nods, dragging the broken man away. His screams fade as they disappear through the metal door.
I turn to the eleven surviving candidates. “Congratulations on passing the first test. Clean yourselves up and prepare for tomorrow.”
As they file out, I check my phone. Three messages from Aurora, each more desperate than the last.
You can’t do this. I won’t let you.
I’ll tell Olivia everything.
Hunter, please. Don’t make me destroy us both.
A smile curves my lips. I tuck the phone away and step over the cooling body on the concrete floor.
The selection continues tomorrow. For now, I have a different target to pursue.
10
AURORA
Istare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, toothbrush frozen midair. Dark circles shadow my eyes after a night spent tossing and turning, my mind in an endless loop of yesterday’s virtual encounter with Hunter.
What have I done?
My stomach twists as I rinse my mouth, unable to wash away the sour taste of self-disgust. I close my eyes but see only Hunter’s face, hear his commands, feel the phantom touch of hands that were never actually on my body.
And Olivia... sweet, trusting Olivia.
I splash cold water on my face, hoping it might shock away the guilt that clings to me like a second skin. It doesn’t.
The kitchen smells of fresh coffee and cinnamon when I trudge downstairs. Olivia dances around the island in silk pajamas, hair piled messily atop her head, humming while she arranges pastries on a plate.
“Morning, sleepyhead!” She beams, sliding a steaming mug toward me. “You look terrible. Rough night?”
I force myself to meet her eyes. “Just couldn’t sleep.”
“Well, this will perk you up.” She pushes an ornate envelope across the counter. “Look what arrived this morning!”
My fingers tremble as I open it, revealing an invitation printed on heavy black card stock with silver embossing.
“The Vipers’ annual masquerade ball,” Olivia squeals, clutching my arm. “Hunter’s friends throw the most exclusive party in the city. Nobody gets in without a personal invitation.”
The silver text glimmers mockingly:The pleasure of your company is requested at the 15th Annual Masquerade Ball. Masks mandatory. Secrets optional.
“Hunter added your name to our invitation,” Olivia continues, oblivious to my growing nausea. “Isn’t that thoughtful? Now you can help me shop for the perfect dress and mask!”
The mug slips from my grasp, hot coffee splashing across the counter. “Sorry,” I mumble, frantically mopping up the mess while avoiding her gaze.
“You okay? You’ve been acting weird.”
“Just tired,” I lie, my voice strangled. “The masquerade sounds... interesting.”
“Interesting? It’s legendary! And now you’ll be there with me, with us.” She hugs me from behind, her chin resting on my shoulder.
Each word is another twist of the knife I’ve plunged into her back.
“I should get to work.” I grab my purse, desperate to escape before my face betrays me. “Deadline for the feature article is tomorrow.”
