“The journalism department created genealogical trees of the founding families right before it was shut down. It’s still up there.”
“Okay?”
She rolls her eyes. “I said you should ask more questions, right?”
Yes, she told me that. I don’t know what learning about the guys’ families will help, but maybe that’s what she means. I need all the information about Bellthorn to understand where I am and why everyone is a creep who knows more than I do. I nod, showing her I got it, and leave her behind.
Eyes stick to me the moment I’m within the crowd, and I instantly miss the secret passage and the weird feral Nina. I fear that Arabella, as the new Offering, is adding a layer of attention that had faded before I left. She’s obviously running her mouth.
People were starting to get bored, but now they are just as interested as they were on day one. They love drama in Bellthorn, and I see the center of everything. This is by far the most people I’ve seen since I’ve been back, and much to my surprise, a few of them wave to me, like I’m no longer infected.
That’s strange.
I finally reach the fashion department, aching to have Orion at my side as a buffer against all of this, but the attention here is a lot different. Almost no one looks at me, and it feels incredibly intentional. As I’m searching for the classroom, a girl I’ve never spoken to before falls into step with me. I recognize her as one of Orion’s students. She’s never been hostile to me, but she’s certainly not been friendly either, so I’m not sure what to make of her approaching me.
“Hey, Sable,” she says like we’ve met plenty of times, and this is a normal day.
“Hi, uh, I’m sorry. I don’t actually know your name.”
“That’s fine,” she says like it really is. “It’s so hard to find you without one of the guys, but I guess now that Arabella is the Offering, that shouldn’t be a problem, right?”
Ah, she’s fishing for drama.That makes more sense than a sudden urge to befriend me.
“Yeah, good for her, I guess.” I only just manage not to laugh. There still doesn’t seem to be much sense to be made of what Arabella is getting out of being the Offering. “So what’s your name?” I ask again.
“You’ve seen this, right?” She continues talking like I never said anything. She pulls out her phone, cues something up, and hands it to me. When I don’t immediately press play, she presses it for me. At first, I can’t tell what I’m seeing. Everything is a little dark and a bit blurry, but I quickly recognize Soren’s moans. They don’t sound quite right, and the female ones on top of them are far louder.
This is the fucking recording Arabella made of her raping Soren.
Anger like I can scarcely understand thunders through me. Shock keeps me in place as she giggles by my side. My eyes lift from the video to her happy face and finally to the people around us. Everyone holds their breath, waiting for my reaction. She reaches for the phone when it ends, but I grip it too tightly and pull it to my chest. The biggest smile, the fakest one I have in my arsenal, spreads across my lips. Then I throw her phone at the ground as hard as I can.
“Hey!” she screeches.
“Oops.” I stick out my bottom lip.
When I killed my uncle, I never felt bloodlust, just an unyielding need to survive, overcome, and avoid getting raped. What I learned about myself in the process, though, is that I am capable of murder. I’m not prey at Bellthorn anymore, and they should be careful what they do to provoke me.
CHAPTER 53
ORION
My head is notin the right place as I take my seat beside the teacher at the patterning class. I open the book, looking for today’s lesson, but this is the last thing I want to be doing. All my thoughts are consumed by a certain blonde to the point I think I’m starting to hallucinate. She arrives in the class, all pretty, dressed in the clothes I made for her, and holding her textbook against her chest.
“You’re taking this class?” I mouth from across the room.
“Yeah,” she mouths back, picking a seat too far from me for my liking.
Long tables, rather than individual desks, line the room. Sable sits on the left side, away from everyone but two brave people who dare to take a seat on the same bench. I watch them carefully, but they don’t even glance at Sable, and my shoulders relax. The class starts with some discussion and instruction, but very quickly, the students are sent to work. This is when I help around, moving between tables and looking over their shoulders to see if they are doing it right. This time, I don’t even pretend and make a beeline to her.
“I didn’t expect to see you in a classroom so soon,” I say.
“I’m not the kind of girl to wait, Orion. There weren’t many classes I could still fit in, and time was ticking.”
She doesn’t look at me when she says that, her eyes cast down to the patterning paper, markers, and scissors at the supply cart. This is an intro class to patterns. At first, they need to create something similar to what the mannequin at the front of the class is wearing. She sketches out the general shapes she’ll need across the paper, and I notice her shoulders are tense. I can feel something is wrong. It’s so fucking obvious that it hurts. I stop her movements at once, taking her trembling fingers between mine.
“What happened?”
She glances at me just once and shakes her head.
