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“Fuck needing proof,” Isaac chided with a furious scoff. “Fuckingthinkabout it. Father has been lying to us, covering shit up, and doing only God knows what else behind our backs foryears.Who’s to say Bethany’s suicide isn’t—”
“OKAY,” Phantom howled, raising and clasping his hands tightly together in a powerfulclap. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. We bury the body. After that, we’ll go back to the warehouse and question Father, Sharkey, and Prim together. We’ll draw our own conclusions from there. Capeesh?”
“Whatever.” Isaac rolled his eyes and continued to dig.
“Rhett?”
“Yeah.” I grabbed my shovel and got back to work. “Capeesh.”
I sat on the ground, panting hard, my shirt drenched and uncomfortably stuck to my torso thanks to how badly I was sweating. It’d taken a little over an hour to dig the hole, toss Bethany in, and repatch the disrupted earth.
“Fucking finally,” Isaac groused, throwing the shovel down before he wiped his face, smearing traces of dirt across his soaked forehead. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Phantom grabbed Isaac’s shovel and together we approached the open trunk, tossing the items in. Isaac was already inside the car, waiting for us with two spare shirts to change in. Phantom and I got in, changed, and after a moment, I had the engine and AC running.
The warehouse was twenty minutes away, but thanks to the lack of traffic and speeding my ass off, I managed to get us there in ten. Sharkey’s voice bellowed through the old, congested building, announcing the winner for the ninth match just as we walked in. Immediate relief blanketed me, and through the corners of my eyes I could see Phantom and Isaac both sighing out their own respite. We got here just in time.
We wiggled through the horrendous mob and eventually made it back to our desired seats, spotting Father sitting up top, his gaze rooted down, across the ring. I followed his stare, swallowing hard when it landed on Samara, and Kinsley, who was right by Samara’s side chatting up a storm in her ear.
Samara’s long black hair was thrown up in a messy bun, and her face was harder than granite as she glared daggers at—or more like through the ring—where Sharkey stood front and center. Sharkey offered her a wicked smile and then brought the microphone to his mouth, inviting her into the spotlight.
“Boys,” Father’s deep voice called out to us, just as the place combusted with raucous howls and other cacophonies that had my auricles laboriously ringing.
I turned my head, finding him making his way down the steps, a weak smile on his face.
“How did it go?”
Phantom was the first to respond. “It’s done. I’ll handle the rest when I get back to the academy.”
Father nodded, looking both pleased and distressed.
“Tell us the truth,” I said just as Isaac began to speak next, the interruption forcing his twitching eyes to ruthlessly dagger the side of my face, his jaw set. “Did Bethany really kill herself?”
“Prim has volunteered to take Bethany’s place tonight,” Father spoke through a forced smile. His outright refusal to answer the question had the three of us scoffing at him in blistering disbelief. “And I’m sure you’re aware that it was Prim who found Bethany’s body.”
“What are you implying here?” Phantom asked, silencing Isaac when he made to speak again. “Are you saying Prim killed Bethany?”
“Just tell us the fucking truth,” Isaac burst in through a hoarse growl, his body shaking. “You owe us that fucking much!”
“What I’m saying,” Father said thickly, his eyes carefully sweeping over our tight, livid expressions, “is that we have an audience, boys. Take the information I've given you and do what you will with it. We’ll talk about this more after the trials.”
He walked away then and stalked towards the ring, leaving us with far more questions than answers, which was total bullshit becausewhat was so goddamn hard about endowing a simple yes or no response?
“And her opponent,” Sharkey yelled into the mic, a proud smile on his face. “Primrose Adams.”
The deafening cacophonies started up yet again, and the roar from our fellow Ravagers chanting Prim’s name had Sharkey grinning ear to ear and Samara unimpressively rolling her eyes.
“What thefuckare we supposed to do now?” Isaac growled deeply, daggering Prim as she took her place in the ring, scrutinizing Samara with a far from fucking friendly smirk on her face.
“I’m not sure yet,” was Phantom’s swift response, while he too, observed the brutal staring contest ahead of us. “Give me sometime to think shit through. For now, let’s get down there and cheer on our girl. We need to see how this plays out.”
And that’s exactly what we did. We raced down to stand alongside Father and Kinsley and waited for the match to start.
Samara bounced on her heels and shook out her arms, the movements eliciting a pained expression along her full, beautiful face. She winced and gritted her teeth as she breathed in deep and got in position. Prim followed suit and raised her fists high. Malice painted an ugly canvas across her face the longer she ruthlessly glared at Samara.
My stomach dropped, and my lips parted when suddenly the conversation that had taken place between me and my father the other day lit up my mind.
“STOP THE MATCH,” I screamed, but it was too late. The bell had rung, and the crowd was riled up more than ever, drowning out my pleas.
