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ELEVEN
Xander
I watch from a screen as guards escort Bianca, Remington, and the boys out of the arena, my heart pounding as I try not to blatantly stare at Remi’s very exposed body. This fight didn’t end the way I expected, and perhaps I should be thankful, but I know it’s not what Windsor wanted—the bastard craves blood.Sex sells, and to be fair, Remington and Bianca put on one hell of a show, but for The Gallery to be completely satisfied, only blatant acts of violence will pacify those blood-thirsty sharks.
Within seconds of the arena clearing out, my phone buzzes. I don’t need to check to know who it is. Irritated, I answer. “Yes?”
“They didn’t follow the rules.” Windsor’s voice grates on my ear, and I want to smash my phone into a million pieces, but I remain in control.
“No, they didn’t do what you wanted because you weren’t specific enough.” What I don’t add is that next time, if he wants blood, he needs to ask for it—demand it. It’s obvious the students are little savages without a care for one another. The only two that seem to have one another’s backs are the boys who weresupposedto fight in the ring tonight. Which is likely why I’m receiving this call—only the girls fought.
I close my eyes, trying not to recallhowRemi fought...
Windsor breathes heavily into the phone. “Cashel and Bentley need to be taught a lesson!”
“Okay, teach them one.” I shrug, not giving a fuck about the two little, entitled pricks. As long as he doesn’t do anything to—
“The girls, too.”
“No!” The control I thought I had snaps. “Remington and Bianca fought. That’s not fair.” The instant the words are out, I regret them. Windsor doesn’t give a shit if it’s “fair.” He only cares about money and getting more of it, meaning The Gallery wants to see the four students punished, regardless of who fought or not.
“You’ll be the one punishing them.” Windsor’s words give me pause. I wasn’t expecting this given my relationship with Bianca. “The Gallery is voting now on what they would like to see.”
Internally, I cringe. This isn’t just Bianca’s, Remington’s, Cashel’s, and Bentley’s punishment—it’s mine, too. Windsor is always looking for ways to test my loyalty and penalize me for breathing the same air as him. Asshole. I wonder how dirty I’ll get my hands this time, but Windsor again surprises me.
“The Gallery likes those four and wants to see more of them, so their punishment will be light. Be sure to tell them this so they know for next time. Go ahead and use the private room attached to my office. It’s all set up. I’ll have the guards direct them there after they have cleaned up and changed. You have thirty minutes. I’ll text you the poll results in ten.”
The line goes dead, and I just stare at nothing, my mind creating worst case scenarios. When my phone buzzes, I jump, mentally cursing my inattention. Bitterwood is not a place to daydream—that’s the shit that kills you here. Unlocking my phone, glaring at me like a neon light in the darkness, is the list of punishments: spanked with a cane and whipped. Seeing this, I understand why Windsor picked me. I doubt his guards are as proficient with cat-o-nine tails as I am. Although I wish Windsor picked someone else, a small part of me excites at the thought of marking Remington’s pale flesh. While in the same moment, deep remorse and disgust plagues me knowing the same violent end will meet my sweet Bianca.
Maybe this won’t be the nightmare I imagine.
Readjusting my tie, I sweep out of my office over to Windsor’s. Illegally poached animal furs, horns, and hides line the walls. The room is done in rich blues and reds, the navy and maroon contrasting with the gold accent pieces and wooden furniture. Walking over to a bookshelf, I pull outCrime and Punishment—taking no delight in Windsor’s sadistic joke—and push the button inside the hollow book. The shelved wall swings open to reveal a torture room perfectly displayed as the title of Dostoevsky’s book suggests.
Inside, Bianca, Remi, Bentley, and Cashel are already waiting, their guards standing beside each. The four of them are standing elbow to elbow, Bianca on the far left, then Cashel, then Bentley, and lastly, the bane of my existence, Remington. They’re dressed in the Bitterwood Prep uniform—slacks, white button-down, and blazer for the boys.
The girls wear the same shirt and blazer but instead of pants, a short, pleated skirt is draped over their hips. I try not to stare at Remington’s shapely legs encased in knee-high socks. The uniform is just another level of temptation and humiliation. When I glance at her face, she’s looking stonily ahead. The two boys appear pissed, and Bianca just seems curious. She thinks I’m going to get her out of this mess...
And I am.
“Take Ms. Abbot back to Principal Windsor’s office and wait there until I’m ready for her, please.” The guard next to Bianca doesn’t bat an eye at my announcement, as my word is law after Windsor’s here at Bitterwood. A look of gratitude washes over Bianca’s face as she’s escorted away. Refusing to make eye contact with Remi, I direct the three guards to three sets of chains hanging from the ceiling. “Chain them up, make sure their legs are restrained, too.”
“Do you want us to strip them?” Cashel’s guard queries.
“No.”A naked Remi is the last thing I need.
Cashel’s guard grabs his right wrist, but the boy yanks it free, a snarl on his lips. Without hesitation, the man whips out his taser, jabbing it roughly into Cashel’s side. His body shakes violently with the voltage before going limp and slumping to the floor.
The instant the guard touches Cashel, Bentley surges forward, but the female assigned to him isn’t pulling any punches, either. She shoves her taser at the back of his neck until he follows his buddy down. Remi just stares, her eyes wide.
“What’ll it be?” My question prompts Remington from her stupor, and the familiar rage she feels for me burns in her gaze. She doesn’t answer, just lifts her hands for her guard to chain her up. It’s a man, and for some reason, seeing him touch her pisses me off. I don’t look too much into it as I lurch forward to stop him. “I’ll take it from here.”
The guard nods, leaving to wait in Windsor’s office as Cashel and Bentley are secured. They’re still too dazed to fight, and I’m not worried about Remi. When the two guards exit, they seal the four of us together in the sound-proof room and only I know how to reopen the panel. Walking over to a trembling Remington, I take one delicate wrist in my hand, reaching up to secure it in the dangling cuffs. The blonde is so short that she’s forced to rise on her tiptoes so that she’s not hanging like a marionette. A nicer person would make her more comfortable for what’s to come.
But I’m not nice.
Turning, I scan the room, looking for what I need. I finally spy a pair of sharp scissors across the room. They’re stainless, and I wonder if this is the first time anything in this room has been used. Remington is putting on a brave face, but the panic is evident in her features when I saunter over to pick up the shears. Stepping in front of her first, I trail the tip over the front of her blouse, enjoying the venom she shoots my way. She struggles pointlessly, but settles quickly enough, exhausted from her fight with Bianca.
It’ll be easy to break her tonight.
