“Already causing trouble, princess?” he asks casually.
I refuse to answer, tightening my lips and glaring at him through swollen eyes. He raises his brows when he catches sight of my face, causing my cheeks to burn hot from anger. For a moment, he looks furious, though I can't tell who
with.
He twirls his finger in the air, indicating that I turn over.
“I have to clean up the mess you made,” he tells me, his face smoothing into
an unreadable expression. “You’re getting blood everywhere.”
Huffing, I roll onto my stomach, tensing when I feel his fingers brush my tshirt up my back.
“It’s not my fau—”
“Everything is your fault here,” he interrupts, his voice deepening with
severity. “Don’t ever forget that.”
He rustles through the supplies, sighing like this is a huge inconvenience for
him.
“I’m terribly sorry to interrupt your day of trafficking women,” I mutter, stewing in my fury. His response is to place an alcohol-soaked pad on my ripped stitches. The burn is startling, and I hiss through my teeth, curses building on the tip of my tongue.
Fucking asshole.
“Your mouth is going to get you in worse situations than this,” he informs me.
“What’s it going to take for you to learn your lesson? Getting a girl killed?”
Swallowing, I choke out, “I’m sorry.”
A loud, booming laugh bursts from his throat. I snap my head to him, enraged
as his shoulders shake with mirth. His dark eyes are twinkling with the first real
emotion I’ve seen thus far. It’s almost as terrifying as him being angry.
“You’re laughing at me,” I say with disbelief.
“Baby girl, I’m not the one you need to be afraid of. I much prefer that mouth
of yours.”
“You just said—”
“You mouth off without thinking it through, and that’s what you need to learn
to control,” he cuts in, his smile dimming, but his eyes still alight with amusement. “As sexy as your fire is, princess, that’s the last thing you want in this place.”
I curl my lip in disgust, thumping my head back on the bed while he resumes
cleaning up my back.
“Don’t call me sexy,” I snap, only because he’s right, and I have nothing better to say.
“Z gonna kill me for it?” he challenges airily, feigning indifference. Although,
that’s not how he sounded when I awoke in that van and overheard Rick and him
discussing if the Society will offer them protection from Zade’s wrath.
I shrug. “He’s going to kill you anyway, so I guess it doesn’t matter.”
He’s quiet, and just when I’m convinced that he’s not going to say anything at
all, I hear him whisper under his breath, “I know.”
As Rio is leaving, Francesca comes barreling down the hallway, her heels
resounding on the floor. Her hand wraps around Rio’s arm, stopping him at the
door.
“Is her back worse?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, they’re superficial. She’ll be fine,” he answers, though his last words sound like they have a double meaning. When she turns away from him, he casts a wink over his shoulder before walking off, leaving me confused.
He’s so fucking hot and cold.
Francesca storms into the room, appearing frazzled with her wild hair and eyes. Her dress is ripped at the collar, and I wonder just what kind of tantrum Rocco was throwing.
“Get in the beauty room. Now.”
Her abrasive footsteps carry her right back out of the room. I scramble from
the bed, rubbing my dry eyes while I hurry after her. Rio clipped my broken nails and cleaned them up for me, but I still feel broken. Every step is a reminder of what happened in that room, and my stomach turns as I draw closer. It takes
all my strength to focus on the lineup of girls and not the spot where I lost my
mind.
None of them catch my eye. Except for Sydney.
Her bottom lip is fitted snugly beneath her crooked front teeth as she bites back a grin. She finds this funny, and I decide that Sydney—I do hate.
Ignoring the psycho bitch, I search out Bethany, and a lump forms in my throat when I spot a bloody open wound where her mole used to be. My chest tightens, the confirmation feeling like sharp knives grazing my nerve endings.
I was raped for nothing.
Fuck, I knew that. But it still feels like getting fucked all over again.
Clearing my throat, I stand straighter, embarrassment and shame burning my
cheeks. I don’t know why. It’s not like being raped is something I should be ashamed of. Maybe because I feel so fucking stupid.
“Today was supposed to be prepping for the Culling, but you had to go and
cause a distraction,” Francesca snipes at me.
My heart sinks like a stone in water, too preoccupied with her words to feel
embarrassed. Molly mentioned the Culling in her entries, but she didn’t go into
detail about what it was—only implied that she was being hunted.
Licking my cracked lips, I ask, “What’s the Culling?”
Francesca smirks. “It means to hunt animals. The men will hunt, and you, my
dear, are the prey.”
My chest tightens, but deep down, I knew that answer already. I just didn’t want to believe it. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that they actually fucking hunt women like we’re game that will be shot and mounted above a fireplace.
This is purely for sport. To laugh and get their rocks off while a bunch of girls
run for their lives and what—try to avoid being hit with a fucking bullet or something?
I have to fight to keep down the urge to vomit. I don’t want to be hunted. And
it seems that’s all my life has been for the past several months.
Francesca casts her gaze down the line.
“The event will take place later this week, and I have an important client visiting—Xavier Delano. He is one of the top buyers in the market, and if you’re lucky, you’ll be selected for auction. But you will only be selected if you are deemed worthy after the Culling.”
Her glacial eyes find me, an abhorrent expression twisting her features.
“Except you. You look repulsive.”
I swallow the retort sitting on my tongue and nod my head in acceptance, like