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We groan in unison.
Dessin turns to face us, his presence thick with cold calculation and a plan brewing in his mind. His burly arms cross over his shirtless chest. And God, I want to touch him again.
“Don’t show any signs of weakness. Keep your chin up. Keep your eyes straight ahead. We don’t know what kind of social system this is or the way of the hierarchy.”
We all nod hesitantly. My stomach grumbles with hunger and twists with anticipation.
“But aren’t you the alpha in captivity? You’re the infamous Patient Thirteen. Shouldn’t we be safe for that reason?” Niles asks.
“I don’t show my cards until I know the game we’re playing.” His eyes flick from Niles to Ruth. “If there are any physical altercations, you step out of the way and let Warrose or me handle it. Understand?”
“Or me,” Marilynn and I say at the same time.
Dessin gives me a relenting look, then narrows his eyes at Marilynn. “You can defend yourself?” We’ve already been over this, but no one has actually seen Marilynn in a fight.
“I can,” she deadpans.
No one questions the confidence in her statement.
“So, Ruthie and I are the freaking infants you all have to protect?” Niles huffs.
“That’s right. Stay in your crib, and let the adults handle this.” Warrose slaps him on the back with a smirk.
Ruth lowers her eyes to the floor, gulping down an emotion I can’t read. Something angry or helpless. Insecurity blossoms over her freckled cheeks.
Dessin snaps his fingers, scowling for us to lower our voices. “We won’t speak of our weaknesses again.” He taps his ear once, then points at the ceiling. “We don’t know who’s listening,” he mouths.
We walk through the long hallway without another word, following the flickering yellow and red bulbs and eerie music mixed with white noise. The sharp-edged floor pokes and agitates our bare feet, and the stale air smells of buttery popcorn and candy with a hidden aroma of rotten fruit.
I wonder how this place will compare to the Emerald Lake Asylum. If this prison will be better or worse. I push myself to keep positive thoughts until I remember that these are the same people who steal babies from their mothers’ breasts. This is the same country that hosts the “Meat Carnival.”
It must be worse. People like this don’t have pleasant housing for prisoners.
I take in a stuttering breath. Clench and unclench my hands. What the hell have we gotten ourselves into? And why did we have to bring Niles and Ruth along? I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to them…
“You grind your teeth when you’re stressed,” Dessin says, eyes on the dark hall ahead.
“I’ve got a bad feeling.”
He nods. “So do I.”
Well, fuck.
I think of Chekiss, DaiSzek, and Knightingale. A wave of relief warms my skin. At least they’re safe. They’re far away from the brutality of this place. But I can’t help but miss them.
“Are we not going to talk about the slinky outfits the girls are wearing?” Niles asks from the back.
I hear Dessin growl deep in his chest.
“I’m trying not to think about it, Niles,” Warrose grumbles.
We’re not the only ones, though. The men aren’t wearing shirts. Just scrappy black pants with holes and a waistband that’s loose around the hips.
“It’s not a bad look,” Niles adds, then pauses to think. “Way better than those cotton gowns and grippy socks, amiright?”
Silence.
“Who misses the grippy socks?” he asks again.
