Page 79 of Pretty Savage: Defy

She begins to turn toward me, then catches herself and faces the wall again.

“For years, I wondered whether The Order had finally killed that part of him. The boy who carried food in his pockets because helpless creatures needed him.” Her hand rests on the stone beside the brazier. “I didn’t see that side of him again. Not until you came along.”

Both of us are silent after that. The only sound is water splashing while I wash my hair and wait for my tears to stop.

When I finish, Rebecca passes me a towel without looking. I climb out, dry myself, and pull on the white robe. The fabric is thick and soft, reaching almost to my ankles.

“I’m covered.”

Rebecca turns.

“I won’t pretend to be your mother, Laurel. I can only give you the guidance I wish someone had given me.”

She looks over my wet hair, the robe, and my bare feet. Approval registers in a small nod.

She goes to the brazier. An iron rod rests across the rim, its cross-shaped end suspended above the glowing coals, the metal still dark and cold. Rebecca wraps her hand around the wooden handle and lifts it.

My body moves backward, a quick retreat. “What’re you doing?”

“The bath purifies the body. The mark completes the initiation.”

She holds the iron between us.

I can’t look away from the cross. It’s smaller than the scar on Carrson’s shoulder, but I recognize it. It matches the mark on Sam’s chest, positioned just above her breast. All the Sisters wear it.

“You want to brand me.”

Rebecca lowers the cross but doesn’t return it to the brazier. She meets my eyes. “I’m not asking you to decide this instant.”

“You brought me down here, had me bathe, and put me in a robe. It feels like you’ve already decided.”

“I prepared the path. Whether you take the final step is up to you.”

“Carrson will hate this.”

“Yes.”

Her agreement stops me.

“He’ll hate seeing the mark on you,” she continues. “He’ll hate knowing you experienced any part of what was done to him down here.”

“Then why would you help me do it?”

“Because Carrson’s feelings are not the only ones that matter. Yours do too.”

No one in The Order has separated what I want from what Carrson needs before. Hearing Rebecca do it feels like betraying him and defending myself at the same time.

“He’ll think you forced me.”

“He may.” She glances at the brand. “You’ll tell him the truth. Whether he believes it will be his decision.”

“What happens if I refuse?”

“I take you upstairs. You put on the ball gown. You attend the party as Carrson’s chosen woman, but the bonding cannot take place. Not tomorrow or ever.”

Rebecca lifts the iron again.

“Carrson will go to dark places,” she says. “Some because The Order sends him there. Others because he chooses them.”