origin
PROLOGUE
Catherine, Age 15
17 years ago
Is that the sound of a helicopter? Are they here to take me?
I’ve never left the island, but I’ve always wanted to leave this hellish place. Of course, the first time I might get a chance, I’m barely able to keep my eyes open.
I don’t know how much time has passed since I was last awake. Muted voices argue around me, but I can’t tell what is going on.
Ow, ouch, fuck, I’m in so much pain.Why does it hurt so bad?
Sophie is yelling but I can’t make out what she’s saying. Something about my dad overreacting—“too big of a risk.”
Of course, that woman can’t be bothered to care. She’s the actual worst. Why is Dad still with her? I hate her. We all hate her. Can’t he see that she is horrible?
I can’t stop shivering.
Where am I? Who’s crying? Is that Elizabeth? Victoria needsto take her away; she’s too young to see this. I’m bleeding so much, it’s going to freak her out.
I chuckle in delirium at our stupid names. “We named you after royalty, now act like it,” Dad and Sophie always say. As if my sisters and I care about being proper young ladies.
For who? Them? The Volkovs? We never get to see anyone out here. People come and go, but we get hidden away in the bunker, never to be seen.
Well, not always.
Sophie made me think it was such an honor. I remember being so excited when she told me I got to spend time with someone besides my sisters, like a playdate.
Itilt my head side to side, watching the blonde catch the light. It doesn’t look like me. That’s the point.
Elizabeth and Victoria burst in without knocking, a familiar hurricane of limbs and laughter.
Elizabeth freezes first. “Oh my gosh. Catherine. Your hair.”
I smile at my reflection. “I know. Isn’t it great?”
My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
Victoria’s expression doesn’t change. It never really does. “Dad’s going to hate it.”
“So?” I say, sharper than intended.
That gets them both. Elizabeth bites her lip, like she’s trying to decide whether this is exciting or a mistake.
Victoria crosses her arms. “You can’t trust Sophie,” she says. “If she let you do this, there’s a reason.”
I roll my eyes. “I know. I’m using her. I wanted a change.” I flick a strand of blonde between my fingers. “You know I hate the red.”
Elizabeth blinks. “You do?”
I shrug. “It’s too much.”
Silence stretches, thin and strange.
“I’m fifteen,” I add. “Dad will just have to get over it.”
