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He was at Archer’s, so they’d gone to Valen’s and helped him out. It turned out that Max’s men had beaten him up but left him when the cook had come back to check on our lunch. The cook was a huge Italian man with a mean left hook and he’d chased the guards away.
They’d called a doctor to go to Valen’s house, but nothing was broken. He sent me pics later on in the day to prove he was alive. I almost cried again when I saw how bruised and swollen his face was.
And then today, this morning, I had to go to school and pretend like nothing had changed.
I took an extra long shower and did my makeup carefully to cover my puffy tear-stained eyes. I finished my hair, got dressed in a cute pair of jeans and a simple top, then threw a hoodie over it. The long sleeves would cover the red welts circling my wrists. I was also staving off depression again, and a hoodie always made me feel better.
I went downstairs for breakfast and found Reg sitting alone at the table reading the newspaper and nursing a mug of coffee. He was starting back at work this week, so he was dressed to leave the house for once. Normally he skulked around in sweatpants and a stained varsity tee shirt.
“Sit, I made you oatmeal and berries,” he said, snapping the paper in half into a tight fold. He ran his fingers along the edge and placed it on the table next to him. “Would you like coffee, too?”
I nodded and sat at my usual spot, looked warily at the bowl in front of me and half wondered if he’d done something to it.
“I didn’t drug it,” he said as if reading my mind. “I’ll eat a spoonful if you’d like. I didn’t drug the coffee either, it’s from the same pot.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled and hunched over the bowl. I didn’t know what happened to me over the weekend. I’d been riding high on the adrenaline of sexual discovery on Saturday. Of being injected with intense hormones, feelings of power, and the amazing additive sex that helped me forget the shit I was in.
And then yesterday, bonding with Valen and getting dragged out of there by Max. The assault, the fear, the trauma.
It had dredged up horrific buried images from things that had happened with Reg and Rick, and it had torn up every last shred of power I’d been clinging to.
I was beaten down this morning. My spirit bruised and broken and I felt nothing but despair for the future. They would force me into being Tribute, I would be owned, and I would probably disappear like Max had warned. I had a yoke on my neck and I couldn’t escape the burden that would drag me into nothingness.
Reg got up and brought me back a mug of coffee. I spooned oatmeal into my mouth and chewed and swallowed like a robot, with mechanical, automatic movements. He stared at me. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me as I ate.
“The Organization contacted me yesterday,” he said, and he leaned back. He winced as he moved his arm, and he rubbed the spot where I’d shot him. I wish I’d killed him. “Do you know what they had to say?”
I didn’t reply. I just ate in silence and ignored him.
He waited a few moments, and then his hand snaked out and caught my wrist, the hand with the spoon. “Fucking answer me, Everly.”
“No, I don’t know what they said,” I replied with a choking, dry sob. It still hurt, and his hard grip send shards of pain through my arm.
“They told me they’re watching us,” he continued. “And they don’t like how much freedom you have. You’ve been whoring around with the Kings, running the show instead of handling yourself the proper way.”
“What’s the proper way?” I asked, already regretting the curiosity that spurred my question. I was going to hate what he told me.
“Their only purpose is to break you,” he said with a sneer. “They’ve been parading you around like you’re some kind of princess when they should be dragging you on a leash and forcing you to heel. You’re not a fucking princess, Everly, and you never will be. You are marked for great things, but only for one purpose. Your greatness will come from serving the needs of men, and that is it. That’s the only reason you were brought to Oakville, the only reason you were sent to Covington, and the only reason you were chosen as Tribute.”
I kept eating as a tear slipped down my cheek in silence.
“You can either get into line and learn your place or you can find out the hard way what’s waiting for you at the end of all this,” he added and he leaned back in the chair again, folding his hands together behind his head. He had a smug, satisfied smile that matched the one I’d seen on Max and the old man at the head of the Organization’s table. The look of a man who had complete control over a woman and knew it. “It will be a lot easier on you if you take the slow journey. Like a frog in boiling water, if you’re thrown right in then it’s going to hurt but if you let yourself get used to the heat then you won’t feel the pain. If you learn your place and let the Kings break you slowly, then you won’t notice it when you’re discarded eventually. You might even long for it, knowing it’s coming.”
I put the spoon down on the table and stood. “I have to get to school, I’ll be late.”
“I’m so glad we had this talk,” Reg said as he picked up his mug. “So glad. And remember, I’ll be watching you. It’s my duty to control your urges and I take that duty very seriously.”
My head was full of so many things I wanted to say, to scream in his face or to spit at him. I wanted to shoot him again, to launch myself across the table and claw at his eyes.
But my wrists and body reminded me of the control they had. The Organization wasn’t fucking around, and the brutal treatment in Max’s car was just the tip of the ice berg. If I didn’t watch myself, they were going to hurt me harder, and at that moment it just wasn’t worth it to fight.
I grabbed my backpack, made sure I had my chemistry homework, and walked to Kingston’s house to catch a ride.
Once inside his truck, when we were alone at last, he said, “You were told, weren’t you?”
“I was,” I replied and fought the tears.
“I got an earful from Rick last night, the piece of shit. I want to fight it, but I’m afraid they’ll make you disappear if I do. I feel so fucking helpless, Evie. I wish we could pack our bags and start over in another city, create lives of our own.”
