We were their entertainment, our suffering part of the menu.
“I’m ready,” I said, wearing my simple gray clothes.
Bo pulled me closer. “Ready for what? Making another poor bastard look good on camera?”
I bit my tongue, knowing he was trying to press my most sensitive buttons.
“Are you giving me the silent treatment, Prey?” He squeezed me against him until I hissed in pain. “I love seeing what a cold motherfucker you’ve turned out to be. Makes me proud.”
He let go, and I took a step back. “We’re late. He’ll get angry.”
Bo snorted. “Angry at you? His prodigy?”
“I’m not his prodigy; I’m just doing what I’m told.”
“Oh, please. You’ve only had to perform once in the last few weeks.”
I wasn’t going to pretend that wasn’t the truth, but if that was The Director’s way of showing his appreciation, I wasn’t about to question it.
“Can we please just go?” As much as I hated spending time in the dungeon, at least there I wasn’t alone with Bo. In the last month, he’d become nastier and crueler, clearly taking offense at my upgraded status.
“Yeah, let’s go. We’ll catch up later.”
The threat in his voice was hard to miss. I swallowed my fear and followed him through familiar hallways. As the days passed and blended together, my life before this place grew vaguer. Not long ago, my biggest worry was paying rent.
When we reached the dungeon, I immediately sensed tension in the air. The crew members—now mostly redundant since I started helping—didn’t speak to each other, their eyes cast down as if they were trying not to get noticed. Even Amanda stood quietly by her makeup station, and that nutcase never shut up.
I glanced at The Director, who was sitting next to someone I didn’t recognize.
“Damn,” Bo whispered. “He’s from the High Council. They don’t usually come here.”
“Jonah,” The Director said, his voice sterner than usual, “you’re late. Come say hello.”
I was late because of Bo, but I kept my mouth shut and stepped closer.
“The famous Jonah Carter,” the man next to The Director said. His skin was ebony black, and his gray suit was the same color as his short hair. He flashed pearly white teeth.
“Jonah, this is Mr. White from the High Council. He came for a surprise visit.” I noticed the subtle disapproval in The Director's tone and that he was sitting stiffer than usual. I wondered if Mr. White was his real name or if it was meant to be ironic considering his dark skin.
“I’ve been hearing good things about your contribution, Jonah. I don’t usually watch these little videos, but our members seem pleased with the improvement.”
It didn’t escape me how he referred to people’s suffering as “little videos.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“I still think that you should skip this shoot and watch the next one,” The Director told Mr. White. “He’s still adjusting and has been proving… difficult.”
From that alone, I figured he was talking about Nathan, and I could understand his concern.
“Oh, I’m sure it will be fine,” Mr. White said with a wave of his hand.
“Let go of me!Fucking perverts!”
All eyes turned toward the entrance, where two guards dragged Nathan in. Since he hadn’t yet earned the gray clothes, he was naked, his skin covered in dirt and bruises. He was still being held in my old cell despite being here for well over a month. I couldn’t imagine being locked in such a place for so long; I’d barely lasted two weeks.
“Nathan,” The Director snapped, silencing him. It was rare for him to lose his cool. “It’s about time you got your act together. I’ve been clear about—”
“You’re wasting your fucking time!” Nathan had to be held back when he tried to kick The Director. I moved aside to avoid getting hit, noticing Mr. White watching with amusement, almost in giddiness.
