Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

I crawl toward the slot and peer out into the hall, but I don’t see anyone.

I have never been so hungry in my life. There’s bread and something that looks like mac and cheese, and two brown things in sticky syrup. When I look closely, I realize they are slices of rotting apple, but I am too ravenous to care. I tear at the bread and it crumbles in my hand, dry and stale. I nearly choke to death on it and have to slow down because they haven’t given me anything to drink. I eye the mac and cheese next and reach for a spoon, only to realize they haven’t given me that, either. I scoop it up with my fingers, feeling like an animal. It tastes gritty and definitely not like mac and cheese. I can’t place the taste at all. It’s a bit like Cream of Wheat, but there’s a vinegary flavor. I’m too hungry to care. I shovel it into my mouth and lick my fingers until I see something squirming on the tip of my finger. I eye it closely. It’s a maggot.

I wretch and everything comes up, burning through all that’s left of my energy. I lie back down, pull my knees close to my chest, and rock back and forth. If my mother were here, she’d rub my back and tell me jokes until I laughed.

“Where’s my mom?” I whimper. “I want my mom.”

Is she in a cell like this one? Could she be across the hall? I know I am not alone in this prison. There are shouts and screams seeping in from beneath the crack in the door. Someone is slamming metal on metal. I hear footsteps and an argument that turns into a fight that turns into an agonized scream. The noises never stop. They bear down on me, grind at my skull. Every shout is a punch in the gut. Every cry for mercy is a stab in the heart. They’re proof that I am not alone, but they are no comfort to me. I wonder if that person is Bex. What if it’s Arcade? What if it’s my father? What if it’s Fathom?

I failed them all.

I hear a rattling, and the slot opens. There’s a hum that terrorizes me. I brace for electrocution, but instead the bowl rattles around on the floor, then skids toward the door as if seized by an invisible hand. It slams against the door, bounces around a bit, then zips through the narrow space. The slot closes. Footsteps fade away.



I must have fallen asleep, because suddenly Spangler is in my cell. He taps on his tablet, but when he notices I’m awake, he puts it away.

“Lyric, do you know what an alpha is?” Spangler asks. “Not the people, of course. I’m talking about in the animal kingdom. Alphas are the leaders of the pack. Apes, lions, even birds, have them. Sled dogs are a great example of animals that have an alpha. They get their name because they are the most dominant animals in the group. The alpha isn’t born into the position. Usually it has to fight for its power, and then it has to train the others to be submissive using sheer aggression and intimidation. Every once in a while, one of the dogs on the sled forgets its place in the pack and it challenges the alpha. Do you know what usually happens? The alpha rips the other dog’s throat out. Here at Tempest, I am the alpha dog. Do you understand what I’m telling you?”

I nod.

“Good. Your parents didn’t get it at first. I’d hate for you to have to learn the way they did,” he explains.

My heart beats hard enough to blow out of my chest.

“Are they alive?”

“You could be a great help to our little sled-dog pack. I’m confident that you can learn to cooperate, but my patience will go only so far.”

“What do you want me to do?” I ask him.

“I want you to be a good dog.”



Panic attacks rise up and batter my mind. The trembling strips me of my strength even more. I sob unexpectedly until my face is smeared in mucus. I don’t have the energy to care. I curse myself for being here, for not having a plan, for not preparing myself for this kind of fight, for being afraid. I curse myself for assuming I would be killed if I didn’t rescue my people. I never thought I’d be locked up inside with them.