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“You’re giving up, princesa,” he sighs, dropping the first aid kit on the bed. He started calling me that after the Culling, now sounding more like an endearment than an insult.
“I’ll pray your life is short,” he responds finally. I smile, the first real one in months. Turns out I didn’t need that red lipstick after all. That was sweet of him to say.
For a brief moment, she glances down at my body, an unreadable emotion in her eyes. Do I look pretty, Francesca?
“Finish cleaning her up quickly, Rio.” He stops and tips his chin over his shoulder to look at her, her face cast in a severe expression. “Claire’s here, and she wants to speak with her.”
She's a mousy girl with big doe eyes and glasses that cover half her face. The others will fight over her purely because she appears young and childish.
Gloria? I think
“I actually appreciate the humor,” the girl next to me says in a heavy Russian accent. “Makes me feel less broken when people don’t treat me like glass.”
I arch a brow. “You mean the people bidding on you?” “Aside from you? Yes.” “I did,” I confirm. She pauses for a beat, then looks away. “Good.”
“Anyone else you want me to kill?” She sniffs. “I can think of a few.” “How about we trade, then. I’ll kill whoever you want me to if you can tell me if you’ve seen someone for me.” I feel her stare once more, so I meet it. “Show me her,” she whispers.
“Her name is—” “Addie,” she murmurs, and my heart stops. “You know her?” “She was in the house with me. Still there, last time I checked.”
“Xavier Delano,” she says. Jillian and I turn to the girl with short brown hair and round glasses. “That’s his name,” she reaffirms. “I-I was in the house with Addie, too.” “Thank you…” “Gloria,” she supplies when I trail off. “Thank you, Gloria. You need me to kill any assholes, too?”
Ignoring me, Rio finishes bandaging me up, and then grabs my arm and forces me into an upright position. He walks to my dresser and opens the drawers, throwing random articles of clothes at me.
“What—Rio, what the fuck is wrong with you?” I snap, a shirt smacking me directly in the face. “Claire is the one who put the target on your head,” he says, keeping his voice an octave above a whisper.
However, I swear I’ve met a Claire before… but my brain is too muddled to recall where and what she looked like. Or her significance to me or Zade. He grabs me by the shoulders, his face severe. “Be very careful with that mouth of yours, princesa. Matter of fact, keep it shut.”
He’s been an emotional crutch for me these last two months, and I’ve begun to figure him out by now. If he’s acting this way, it’s for a reason. And that makes me really fucking nervous.
“I know you’re probably very confused, my dear,” she starts. “And I’m terribly sorry you were brought into the middle of all this.” She waves a hand, indicating ‘all this’ as the house I’m currently being held captive in.
“It’s very unfortunate you got involved with someone such as Z. He came in and wrecked your life like a bull in a china shop, didn’t he?” Yes. Yes, he did. “I suppose so,” I admit.
“He’s caused a lot of trouble for me as of late. Most recently, gratuitously murdering several important buyers at an auction house, then stealing the girls.” My heart drops into my stomach, sending the butterflies inside scattering.
When I just stare at Claire blankly, she continues, “A very intelligent and resourceful man has attached himself to you. Which means that he will have the capabilities to find you once you step foot outside of this property.”
“Francesca has informed me that a very high-profile buyer has set his eyes on you. So, in order to keep you hidden, we will be conducting a direct sale.”
“Xavier has already paid for you and will collect you in three days. Francesca will continue to prepare you for your new life, providing you with all the knowledge you need to ensure you and Xavier live happy lives together.” Ah. Claire is just as psychotic as Mark.
Maybe she’s a byproduct of Mark’s abuse, maybe not. Regardless, she’s no better than her husband. Her pain does not justify inflicting pain on others. Not like this.
“When someone as beautiful as you catches our attention, it’s hard to look away. Normally, I prefer to plant someone in your life. A boyfriend, if you will. Someone you would fall in love with and trust. They would’ve handled you, and you would’ve been able to have some sort of freedom, while also bringing in money. However, you got someone else’s attention first, and suddenly, you became so much more valuable.”
“This trade, this world—I own it. I own it all,” Claire supplies. “I am the Society, dear. Me and my two associates. Mark thought he was the man in our marriage, but he never knew that I was the one pulling the strings all along.
Zade did me a favor by getting rid of that scumbag, despite how fun it was to hang my husband by the balls. I’m not angry because your boyfriend killed my husband. I’m angry because he’s attempting to ruin what I’ve worked hard to build. The sad, little lives you all live are my empire. I’ll be damned if Z tries to take that from me.”
All I can do is stare at her in utter disbelief. Confounded that Claire is the ultimate puppeteer. The president—shit, all of the world leaders—they’re guppies compared to her.
“You’re going to try to escape, and I’m going to tell them,” she breathes, giggling maniacally when I flail against her. “And hopefully they fucking kill you for it.”
“What the fuck is your problem?” I whisper-shout. “I know what you have planned, and I’m not going to let it happen.” It takes effort to keep my eyes from widening, and the stricken look off my face. “I don’t have anything planned,” I vehemently deny. She ignores me. “You don’t get to be treated better than the rest of us, then escape your fate,” she growls. “Treated better?” I echo on a bewildered laugh. “You’ve been getting me in trouble since I got here!”
“Maybe she would love you if you didn’t act like a fucking psycho bitch,” I clip, growing angry. She begins to circle the bed toward me, and I realize belatedly that I’m cornered. “I’m telling Francesca about your plans,” she says, ignoring my jab.
“Fuck, princesa. What did you do?” I barely hear him, only interpreting his words from the way his lips move. I point at her, and croak, “I killed her.”
“Look at me, mama. What the fuck are you going to do now, huh?” I open my mouth, at a loss for words. Finally, I just say, “Escape.”
“My Nana loved watching the squirrels from the bay window, ya know?” I say aloud. “So, I’m going to call you May. Her birthday was in May, and I think she’d love you.”
“Does she have to?” I shrug a shoulder. “No. Say the word, and I’ll lock the doors.” She drops her gaze, but not quick enough to hide the guilt. “That was rude of me to say,” she admits. “She’s still my mom.”
“Meadows, baby. Our last name is Meadows.” “Yours. Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’ll be expected to beg.”
Zade announces, his palm flat on the steering wheel as he makes a left turn. It’s… hot. Watching Zade drive is foreplay. Even worse, he’s wearing a leather jacket over his hoodie today, and I still haven’t been able to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
The thought of getting ice cream with Zade is so normal and mundane that it feels like the most exciting thing to happen since sliced bread. And watching Zade lick an ice cream cone will probably be just as weird as it will be hot.
hope they’re happy,” I murmur. When Zade looks at me curiously, I nod towards the individual in the purple dress. “This world can be so cruel. So, I hope they’re happy.”
Zade is quiet for a beat. “Happiness is fleeting. All that matters is that they’re living their life the way they want to.” “You believe that?” I ask, facing him. “That happiness is fleeting?”
Another two weeks have passed, and it’s a constant up and down battle. Turns out, one of the men did give me chlamydia, and it only cemented that feeling of filth ingrained deep in my bones.
Her daughter getting kidnapped must’ve made her realize a thing or two about the state of our relationship and how utterly in shambles it was—is.
My mother is gaping at me as if I’ve told her I’m shaving my head bald and going to live the rest of my life in a van and smoking hookah. Doesn’t sound so bad, actually. Except maybe the going bald part.
but with sex. The thought of it makes me want to vomit, and there’s this fear ingrained in me that every time Zade shows me any affection, that’s what it’s going to lead to.
“Sibby is crazy,” he says. She stomps her foot, shooting a glare at him. “I’m not crazy, Zade. Just because you can’t see what I see, doesn’t mean I’m the weird one.”
“You really want to cause mass extinction for those names? Moan them, little mouse, I dare you. Whichever ones you choose, not a single man by that name will fucking exist anymore. How about we start with Chad? We can definitely live without the Chads in the world.”
“Am I tangible, or will you let me slip through your fingers like the smoke from this cigarette?” she asks, her voice raspy.
“Our mouths are touching the same spot,” she says shakily. “Does that count as kissing?” “You tell me, little mouse. When I make you cry out for God, does that count as praying?”
“Whatever those men made you feel is not what I’m going to make you feel, little mouse. Whether your skin is between my teeth, beneath my blade, or under my tongue.” She shivers, and I nip at her jaw to prove my point.
“It’s gone,” she rasps, pulling away, throwing the cigarette out the window, and rolling it up. “Don’t forget to pick that up.”
The world could fall to pieces around us, crumble to ashes as the cigarette did between our lips, and I wouldn’t notice.
For a moment, I panic, fearing he’ll stop at the reminder that other men have used my body. Tensing, I wait for the disgust. I wouldn’t blame him if he was repulsed by me, but it’d tear my heart out anyway.
“Does it hurt knowing that you can’t touch me?” I ask, another moan slipping free when I hit that spot inside me. “Does it cut deeper than this knife?” “Yes,” he confesses, his tone low and dark.
