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There’s not a single sound. Not a cricket, not a bird, no rustling, no—nothing. The wind clips my ankles as I try to adjust my eyes to the sable night. Every time I blink, I see the outline of a shadow, but when I adjust again, it’s gone. Riverside is what’s comfortable. It’s familiar. I know what to expect there, but Perdita is free game.
The smell of copper travels through the wind and clings to the back of my throat. It’s warm. A pungent scent of iron. “We’re close.”
“This is game two, right? There’s still a third. Do you smell that?” River rasps.
I take another step, heading straight between two thick redwood trees nestled between shrubs. We must continue for a couple of minutes before we break through.
I stop walking and someone crashes into my back from behind.
“What—”
Flames crackle behind eight wooden stakes that stick out of the ground, as the pledges kneel in front of each one.
War sits on a stray tree trunk toward the front, his legs spread wide and his elbows resting on his thighs. He finds me instantly. Movement catches my eye behind him when Priest and Vaden shift.
“What is this?” I ask, gesturing to the scene in front of us. “It’s all very original, what with the forest setting.” I circle War. “Daddies would be proud.”
Silence. Just when I think none of them are going to answer, the corner of War’s mouth curves upward.
“What do you think we do here, Halen?” When I don’t answer, he looks behind me. “Riv? Stella?”
None of us answer. I think I start holding my breath because as much as I play a big game that us three have been training and that we hold secrets, I know that they’re the main characters here. Sure, the Fathers wanted to be more inclusive with us after my mother pulled the plug on the murderous misogyny from our history. But I’ll never get it twisted. These three are the beginning and the end.
“I don’t know. That’s why we’re here, War.” Even as scenarios filter through my mind, none of them would scratch the surface of what they do.
War holds my stare. “Come.”
One of the girls stands to her full height, her head bowed as tears streak down her puffy cheeks. She’s slim and has a tiny tattoo on her hip. She turns to face War, displaying her entireback. A clean new cut starts from the nape of her neck, tracing her spine.
I swallow but my saliva almost recoils. This is not new to me. I’m aware of this life and what we do.Do I? Or is there something I’m missing?
“Kneel,” War commands and she quickly falls to her knees, her hands behind her back.
His fingers curl around her chin, tilting her face up to the sky, but his words are for us. “You’re all in this world now, not just on the outskirts of it, so here’s the first thing you’re going to learn.”
He stands from his spot, disregarding the girl. “Our enemies try to infiltrate every week. Some more than others. We never know when it’s going to happen. We deal with the threat, and then bring whoever is with them back here to do with as we please. It feeds, fuels, and satiates each of us.” He grinds his teeth. “After we’ve killed the ones we do, we fuck up the ones we don’t and send them back to where they came from, broken enough that they will have to put them down themselves.”
I cross my arms in front of myself. “Seems a little vile.”
Vaden holds my stare. “Maybe. But this is how we handle our enemies now.”
“Dad knows about this?” I ask, gesturing around the torture garden. “I find it hard to believe that they’d sign off on it since it’s so messy.”
“They know.” Priest shifts around War. “They know because this is how they’vehelpedme. Our enemies are our enemies, Halen. This lot?” He jerks his head to the eight. “Are part of a crew called the Bakers. They weren’t too happy about us coming back to Riverside.”
White noise pierces my ears. I step backward but trip over my foot, landing against Stella.
Her hands are on my cheeks, eyes pinned to mine. “You’re okay.”
I nod, swallowing and turning back to War.
War jerks his hand over the stake that the girl came from. “Go.” She crawls back, cutting her hands on the sharp stones. Her head hangs low enough for her long hair to sprawl over her shoulders. She’s beautiful. It’s a shame that kind of beauty isn’t the kind the world needs more of.
My drink of choice was betrayal.
And I stayed drunk on it for fourteen days…
Silent tears rolled down the contours of my face. I was tired of crying. The room smelled of burnt citrus, and every time I tried to move my legs, they’d ache. He’d left kisses in the form of bruises up and down my inner thigh. The kind that I knew was a brutal form of punishment.
