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My phone vibrated next to the bed - no doubt it was Trix checking in. I didn’t bother checking it - not when Trix would only relay what I said back to The Warden. He was a narc of the worst kind, trying to befriend you simply so he could ferret out what he needed from you until you were no longer useful. I had long since learnt to play my cards close to my chest - to give the information that suited me and proved my loyalty, but I wasn’t a fucking idiot. Besides, I couldn’t take that phone with me - not when so much was at stake. Instead, I’d be taking the shiny new rose gold iPhone - still in its case - to complete the society girl persona.
God fucking help me.
I watched the whirring of the ceiling fan above me, the movement obscuring the shitty ceiling. The difficulty lay in acting the ditzy, clueless Society girl that was intent on panting after their approval. I could only hope that they only saw a pretty face that was desperate to participate in the upper echelons of society and nothing more.
I lay there for a long time watching that goddamn fan. Closing my eyes would be an exercise in futility because all I would see was my mother’s distraught face when she realized her sister had been murdered and her niece had been taken. Or worse, I would see her face withered and withdrawn as her gaze darted around a room she didn’t seem to recognize - even though she had been in the home for the last two years. The cost of such medical care for the frail body and mind was not cheap, and so I simply took on more jobs to ensure that it was paid upfront for the next two years. I couldn’t look after her, not when I returned home covered in blood more often than not. Not when she required a full time caregiver, and I had grown accustomed to slipping between the shadows, walking that fine line of invisibility that allowed me to complete this task. And she sure as shit couldn’t look after me. It became evident soon after we lost them - my mom cooked less and less, until there was nothing in our pantry and she had no will - or cash - to restock it. Perhaps, if she’d had her shit together, I wouldn’t have gone down this road, but such thoughts were pointless because while I mourned Chantal - I mourned her in a way that carved out my vendetta for vengeance - to see those sick fucks pay for everything they had done to her and my family. My mother? She mourned the loss of her twin by going into an almost catatonic state - one that saw her lose her job and any ability to function independently.
I remained like that, a solid and stiff body in the bed, staring at the peeling paint with the incessant whirr of the fan serving as the white noise I tended to crave when my thoughts were too loud. And when the sunlight began to stream in, invading the darkness I had claimed as my own, I rolled over, dressing in that utilitarian way I had learnt came with survival.
The jeans felttootight, the cardigantooclean, and the heels were just ridiculous. I parted and styled my hair in the way that The Warden’s girls had shown me. My blush seemedtoobright, but there was no time to fix it - I’d have to learn make-up techniques while I was there. Who knew? Perhaps they had a class on it. No one knew what went down in the three months of servitude, but none of that mattered - not when the end goal was still the same.
I glanced longingly at my docs before slamming the door shut on my shitty apartment. The Society had fucked with the wrong family.
Chapter Two : The Lion's Den
Marissa
Ascoverswent,aresort-like hotel was pretty good, but then I would expect nothing less from The Society. I rolled my pink luggage behind me - ever the sorority girl - and stepped into the lion’s den. Texas was sweltering this time of year - the kind of sweltering that had sweat slicking your thighs as soon as you stepped out of the shower and, by contrast, the lobby of the hotel that fronted as one of The Society’s basecamps was freezing due to the AC. The place was all peach and coppery tones, making it far too jovial for the shit that really went down behind these walls. But then, that was what they were good at - they were experts at convincing you of one thing, when in fact, the truth was always drastically darker and worse than anything you could have dreamed.
A severe looking woman stood in the lobby, a clipboard in hand. Her dark hair was pulled back in a way that seemed to hinder the use of her facial muscles in her forehead, or perhaps that was simply the Botox.
“Marissa Williams.” Her gaze flicked towards mine in an unimpressed manner. That was fine - expected, even. I chose the most common surname. I needed to appearordinaryin a way that ensured they didn’t give a fuck about me. Everything about me needed to becommon- or just above it.
I nodded enthusiastically as if entering this establishment was the highlight of my life. And it was, but not for the reasons she thought.
“Orientation is in C2, you can leave your bags here. They will be delivered to your room.”
Her voice is clipped and curt as if I was somehow beneath her. I didn’t want to leave my shiny new luggage with her - leaving any of my possessions with these people feltwrong, but I also had no choice.
I nodded, not trusting myself to answer smoothly and not give myself away because the truth was stabbing her - even in my imagination - seemed mighty appealing right now.
I walked down the cold, sterile hallway until I came to an auditorium, the door neatly labeledC2- just like the woman at the front said. I hated how clinical this felt - how neat and orderly they were. Because it was all just a fucking front. They were experts in devastation and destruction. Still, I put one heeled foot in front of the other, walking in a stilted way that spoke of skittishness and uncertainty - feeding them the lie that they so easily bought because I was under no illusion that the only reason I’m here is because they need more women for their precious breeding program, and I fit the bill.
It was an auditorium, complete with a stage and podium - because of course this would be a production of sorts. I stilled my mind, refusing to allow even a hint of my thoughts to reflect upon my face. I couldn’t lose yet - not when the game had barely begun. I chose a row at random, playing the role of shy newcomer stumbling around. Hopefully someone would take pity on me and ‘show me the ropes.’
I exhaled a sigh of uncertainty, allowing those already seated to look at me - to twist in their seats and gaze upon the newcomer. I didn’t miss the flash of pity that seemed to appear for a moment in the dark-haired beauty’s gaze. Another girl with whiskey colored hair appeared bored and indifferent. I let them see the uncertainty - the nerves - the excitement that entailed being The Society’s newest recruit as I placed one high heeled foot in front of the other. Using the guise of nerves, I scanned the room, noting that the only exit that seemed to exist in this place was the one I had just walked through. Leaning against the wall near the podium stood a man who appeared to be plucked from the army, and although his demeanor spoke of militant training, he looked bored and irritated that he was here.Right back at ya.But here we were.
I chose one of the middle rows to slide into, seating myself a few feet away from the dark-haired beauty in front of me, and an auburn haired boy seated in front of her. To call him a boy wasn’t quite fair because, even from where I was sitting, I could see the way his jacket strained against his muscles. Judging by their body language, they knew one another - which shouldn’t be a surprise considering the nature of this place.
He twisted in his seat to look at the dark-haired woman, confirming my suspicions. His expression was all snark as he hit her with a smirk that tugged at his full lips. He was beautiful. His cheekbones were angelic. He was a masterpiece, and I was simply someone walking through the gallery, lucky enough to gaze upon him.
The boy in question had auburn hair, but as he turned his head, the light fell upon him differently, lighting the strands to a shocking blaze. Which seemed right because if anyone could burn down the world, it would be him.
He shook his head once, glancing towards the dark-headed beauty that had gazed upon me when I walked in, and something about the way thathewas looking atherset a hot flair of hate scorching through my lungs. But here wasthisboy.He’s not a boy. My mind corrected me once more.
The dark-haired girl scoffed at him in familiarity. It took me a moment to realize what it was that I was exactly feeling - jealousy. It had been a long time since I had felt it. The fit of jealousy wrapped its fist around my spine and tugged, burning me with a host of images that should embarrass me but, instead, seemed to fascinate me.
What would those lips feel like pressed against mine? What would his muscles feel like beneath my fingertips?
As if my thoughts had drawn attention to myself, his gaze flicked towards me, and for a split second, I clean forgot how to breathe - how to function. His eyes were green. Not an ordinary green - if such a color even existed. It was the kind of green that you saw in forests, nuanced in its layers, shifting shades depending on the angle and lighting. And just as soon as he took stock of me, so he turned his gaze away, allowing oxygen to fill my lungs once more, and something about that dismissal angered me - made me want to key his car or gut him. Because it was a dismissal, and while I should be grateful because having the attention of someone like him in a place like this would do me no good, it still stung - still reminded me that even if I did want it, I would never be good enough for these people.
I didn’t have time for jealousy - it was a useless, petty emotion that fueled absolutely nothing. Sure, on my darker nights I drowned myself in jealousy - allowed it to tinge every thought until I was a void of anger and pain. I wished that it had beenmethat was taken and not Chantal. Because if it had beenmethen I wouldn’t have to behere- I wouldn’t have to keep fighting. Some days the fight was the only thing that kept me going. Others, I could convince myself that being here to simply drink a chai latte was enough.
I released the breath that I had been holding, reminding myself that this was what they did, and that I couldn’t afford any weaknesses while I was here - I couldn’t afford any weaknessesever. And so what - he was pretty. It was nothing that I couldn’t chalk up to The Society’s impeccable breeding program. I felt the auditorium fill up as members of the rich and famous slid into their seats, gossiping in hushed tones - each of them belonging to one of the oldest and secret institutions in the world.
I straightened myself in my seat, feeling their gazes sweep over me - analyze me. Some snickered because even when The Society themselves gave me an invitation - had welcomed me into their ranks - Istilldidn’t belong here. They knew that and so did I. The only difference was that they assumed it was due to my heritage - the knowledge of where I came from. I knew different. I knew that it was because of whattheyhad done.
A hush seemed to settle over the crowd as a group of rich boys walked in. I didn’t have to knowwhothey were to know that they were important.
