Silas looks down at me. He’s not smiling, but something in his face is worse than a smile.
Harrick steps out from behind him, grinning. “Well look who it is.”
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
“I was just—” I start.
“Just what?” Harrick tilts his head. “Out for a little morning rejection walk? If you’re not getting what you need from those idiots, we can help you out.”
My skin crawls. “No, I was just on my way to—”
“This early?” Silas’s voice is quieter than Harrick’s. Colder. “I don’t thinkso.”
I take another step back. My heel catches on a crack in the path and I have to catch myself.
Harrick’s grin widens. “So let’s see it. The mark.” He pauses, savoring it. “Or, you know. The part where it should be.”
“No.”
I’m already backing up but he’s faster. His hand closes around my wrist and yanks my sleeve up before I can pull away. I try to twist free but his grip tightens, holding me in place.
Silas moves closer.
He doesn’t grab me. He doesn’t have to. He just reaches out, slow and deliberate, and runs one finger along the inside of my wrist.
My stomach lurches. His touch makes my skin crawl.
Silas is watching my face. My gut tells me to run.
He doesn’t act on whatever he sees. But he doesn’t step back either.
“I thought it was a trick,” he says. Still touching my wrist. Still watching my face. “I mean, come on. No mark? That doesn’t happen.”
Harrick laughs. “How are you even here?”
I try to pull my arm back. Harrick holds it.
“No wonder your little cluster doesn’t want you,” he says. “What do you even have to offer them?”
“Let go of me.”
“Fifteen years on the street.” He’s not letting go. “Sleeping in trash. Eating out of the garbage. And they’re supposed to believe you belong with them?”
My throat closes. “How do you—”
“Doesn’t matter.” Silas nods at Harrick, who drops my wrist. But Silas’s eyes don’t leave my face. “What matters is you were exactly where youbelonged. Invisible. And the only reason you’re here now is because the system made a mistake.”
I can feel the tears starting. I hate it. I hate that they can see it, hate that I’m giving them this, hate that everything they’re saying is exactly what I’ve been telling myself since I got here.
“You don’t belong here,” Harrick says. “You know that, right? You’re not one of them. You’re not one of anyone.”
Silas is still watching me. Still calculating. Like he’s figuring out what I am. Like he wants to crack me open and see what’s inside.
“Maybe you should go back to where you came from,” he says. Soft. Almost gentle. “Before someone gets hurt.”
They’re both smiling now.
I run.
