by G. P. Ching
“A Tomahawk Infinity.” I raise my eyebrows. “The grid was quite an experience.”
He tosses an arm around my shoulders and ushers me from the kitchen. “You never fail to amaze me. Brave. Strong. You’re going to save the world someday.” Warm lips land on my forehead.
It’s a sweet thought, but I’m not interested in saving the world. As I think about the fight to come, I’d settle for saving us.
21
“I have to meet Alpha to finalize details for Friday and then I better get a light workout in. You going to be okay here?” Korwin asks me. I look around his room, our room now, with reserve.
“Maybe I could pick up a bit?” I stare at the cluttered floor disapprovingly.
“I should help you with that,” he says from the door.
“I can manage. Where are your cleaning supplies?”
“I…ah. I’ll send Bella or Sophie up with some.” He kisses me goodbye, a short, casual kiss that might be easy to take for granted in this world but would not have been acceptable in Hemlock Hollow. I close my eyes for a moment to appreciate it, and when I open them again, he’s gone.
After turning a circle, I decide to start by making the bed. I strip back the wool blanket and spread the freshly laundered sheets across the mattress. The pillows and blanket come next. I’m tucking in the edges of the brown wool when I notice the box I saw this morning under the bed. I tug the corner and slide it out where I can see it better. Inside is a sketchbook and some colored pencils. Korwin’s art. Out of curiosity, I take a seat on the edge of the bed and pull out the spiral-bound paper.
The cover and edges are worn from use. With a shaky hand, I open the book. The first drawing is of me in Hemlock Hollow. In full color, it depicts me standing in the summer wheat, the light illuminating my clean face, kapp, and plain dress. The next sketch is of me in the Lapps’ buggy, a cup of hot chocolate in my hands. The third surprises me. As I turn the page, bright blue catches my eye. I’m in the ballgown at Stuart Manor and I have electricity flying from my hands. I turn the page and it’s me again, standing by the tree in my front yard, looking toward the wall. My expression is wistful, almost vacant. Is that what I looked like to him? I cringe at the truth in it, at the reflection of the sunset in eyes that clearly want to see it with an unobstructed view. Was I a terrible cheat, a fake? Was my closeted desire for freedom so obvious to the ones who loved me?
“That’s beautiful,” Bella says from behind me.
I slam the sketchbook closed. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“Ace said you needed these.” She hands me a bucket with rubber gloves and powdered cleansers.
“Yes, thank you.”
“What was that he drew on your head?” she asks. “Some kind of white scarf?”
I lick my lips and shrug. “I just found it. I’m not even sure it’s supposed to be me.” I’m a horrible liar. I have to look away just to say it.
“It looked exactly like you,” she says. “Weird though. When did he have time to do it? Come on. Let’s take a longer look.” She reaches for the pad, but I drop it in the box before she can grasp it.
“No,” I say too sharply. “I’m not sure my keeper wants me to see this. I could get in trouble.”
Bella’s eyes narrow and she hands me the bucket. “You don’t look as bad off as I expected after this morning, but then again it sure sounds like you’ve taken on a new appreciation of obedience.”
I shrug. “Just because you can’t see the bruises, doesn’t mean they aren’t there.” Not a lie. A half-truth. Korwin did leave bruises, albeit emotional ones.
“It usually takes new girls a few light slams to fall in line with the way we do things around here. I had a black eye and a broken rib for almost a month before I stopped fighting it.”
I stare into the bucket between my feet. “Thank you for helping me earlier with Pit. I didn’t realize about the collar. I didn’t think anyone would be awake, and I just forgot.”
“You owe me one. Alpha was pissed that Pit woke him up. Sophie covered for me. Made some crap up about Pit helping Friday night and me being confused. Pit didn’t buy it. He would’ve taken my head off in the hall if he thought Sting would let him live.”
“Sting’s protective of you?”
“All the pack leaders are protective of their mates. We are a status symbol. As long as you take care of your keeper, he’ll be obligated to take care of you.”
The warning in her voice makes me ask, “What if we don’t take care of our keepers?”
She snorts. “Girls who cause trouble go missing.” Her brow furrows. “Don’t ever try to leave. You won’t make it a mile. The mutt who catches you gets to own you and not like this.” She points at my collar. “They get to sell you for units during the fights.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Bella sinks next to me on the bed. “No, you’re not. It’s almost like you want to be here.”
“I’d rather avoid the black eye,” I murmur.
She rubs her hands together, her eyes flicking toward the box under the bed. “It’s more than that. It’s the drawing and last night at dinner, the way he looks at you.” She shakes her head. “It’s almost as if…”
“As if what?” I ask, giggling a little to make light of her observations.
“As if he loved you.” She rolls her lips together and pokes her tongue into her cheek, eyes narrowing as if she’s trying to puzzle me out. “Ace appears out of nowhere. No history, no former clan. He’s here for a few weeks and climbs the ranks like no one has ever seen. Never takes a woman, despite plenty of offers. Then you come along, and no offense, but you aren’t exactly flashy. I mean, you show up smudged with grime, no makeup, hair a hot mess.”
“No offense taken,” I say softly.
“And Ace practically runs half the place over, pushing and shoving, to challenge Pit for you.” She laughs. “How does that happen?”
I spread my hands. “I’ve never understood men.” My heart picks up its pace and my stomach clenches in fear. Where is she going with this? What will happen if she suspects we knew each other before?
“Hmm.”
“Thank you for the supplies,” I say quickly. “I should probably get to work.”
She stands and moves slowly toward the door but doesn’t leave. “Lydia, did you and Ace know each other before you came here?” Her eyes lock on to mine and I can feel her dissecting my every gesture, the way my hands fidget, and the sweat on my upper lip.
“That’s a silly question,” I say.
“That’s not a denial.”
I meet her eyes and lie. “No. We didn’t know each other.”
She looks down her nose at me. “It just seems odd, you both appearing out of nowhere.”
“Life’s odd, I guess.” I can tell she’s not buying it, so I give her something more, a full-truth to cover the lie. “I’m wanted by the Greens. I have to be… pleasant. If Ace kicks me out, I’m as good as dead.”
“Hmm.” Bella sweeps her bangs back from her forehead and snorts. “So that’s it.” She nods like she understands. “See you at dinner.”
I decide to give her a taste of her own medicine. “Hey, Bella.”
“Yeah?”
“Since we’re sharing, what’s an Uppercrust like you doing here anyway?”
She turns to meet my eyes. “If I’d stayed with the Greens, I’d have killed myself.”
There isn’t a hint of humor in her expression, and I swallow a lump that forms in my throat at the pain in her large, dark eyes.
“Thanks again for the supplies.”
“Bring them down when you’re through.” She slips out the door without saying goodbye.
Once she’s gone, I breathe a huge sigh of relief. No one can know about Hemlock Hollow. Not only would it put us at risk, but the community as well. Sophie said that coming from a competing pack in the deadzone without revealing your origins is a major taboo, something the Red Dogs kill over. Was Bella’s interes
t in my roots a product of her suspicions that I was a spy or plant of the enemy?
The enemy. The true enemy is the Green Republic. Strange to think of clans from the deadzone warring over scraps while the Greens feast on the fruits of their corruption. Still, my gut tells me I should be more careful around Bella and Sophie, to act more Red Dog and less other.
By the time Korwin returns, it’s late in the day. I’ve finished my work and am stretched out on top of the bed. The books are shelved in an old crate. All of the clothes are away in the drawers, the porcelain is washed as is the small window, and I’ve mopped the floor.
“It’s time to get dressed for dinner,” he says.
I groan. “Too tired.”
“The place looks great. Did you break for lunch?”
“I had a meal bar from my pack,” I say, pointing at the backpack from David.
“Why didn’t you go down to the cafeteria to eat?”
I look at him in confusion. “You never came back, and you told me not to leave the room on my own.”
“Yes, but I got distracted with preparations for Friday. After I met with Alpha in the commons, I asked him to have Sophie escort you down.”
I shake my head. “Sophie never came to get me. The only person I saw all day was Bella, who brought me the cleaning supplies.”
Korwin tilts his head and squints in my direction. “That’s odd. I asked Sophie to bring up the supplies.”
A chill runs the course of my body, and I sit bolt upright from the bed. “What if he hurt her?”
Korwin shakes his head. “I don’t think he’d do that. Maybe she just got busy.”
I hug myself, rubbing the outside of my arms. Bella said Alpha was angry about Pit. Did he take that anger out on Sophie? Worse, was it my fault? “We’ll see her at dinner.” I bound out of bed and head for the door.
“You can’t go like that.”
“Why not?”
He walks to the wardrobe and pulls out a slip with a meshy black sheath. It’s backless and short, unbelievably short.
“You can’t be serious.”
“This is expected,” he says apologetically.
“It’s humiliating.”
Korwin places the dress back in the wardrobe. “Maybe I can say you’re sick.”
“What? And stay in this room all night? No way.”
“You decide, Lydia. Do you play this game or hide from it? It’s not ideal but we’re safe here. The dress, all the other stuff, it’s just stuff. It’s not that important.”
“Easy for you to say.” I glance woefully at the wardrobe.
He raises an eyebrow. “You haven’t seen what I have to wear in the ring on Friday.”
“Ack.”
“Your choice.”
I stare at him for a moment and then storm to the wardrobe to retrieve the dress. “The bath is ready for you. Don’t forget the shoes.”
Snatching the strappy heals from the floor of the wardrobe, I huff from the cell toward the bathroom. Korwin follows me. I stop. “What are you doing?”
“After what happened with Pit, there’s no way I’m letting you go down there alone.”
I lower my voice. “Too far,” I whisper. He may get me in the dress, but I am not letting him watch me bathe.
“I’ll wait outside the door.” He smirks.
My head feels hot. By the time I reach the bath, I feel at war with myself, between my desire to be with Korwin and the deep-rooted faith that tells me everything about this place is wrong.
Thirty minutes later, I emerge from the bath afraid to move. While the fabric is beautiful, I still can’t figure out how the dress stays up. The mesh balances precariously on the tips of my shoulders. I’ve curled my hair and left it down to cover as much of my back and shoulders as possible.
“You look stunning,” Korwin says.
“I look like a harlot.”
He takes my hand and kisses my cheek. “Never.”
The corners of my mouth sag, and a deep sadness comes over me. I’ve not felt this way before, not when I was being trained at CGEF or being chastised by the elders in Hemlock Hollow. In this dress, I feel like a thing, an ornament to be displayed and judged by my keeper.
“Something’s wrong,” Korwin says.
Tears prick at the corner of my eyes. “I don’t like it,” I say, running a finger under the collar. “It’s dehumanizing.”
He groans in frustration. “Come on, Lydia. I’ve told you, this is how it is. Everyone dresses like this here. We don’t have a choice.”
I nod and wipe under my eyes.
“We’re late for dinner.”
We turn the corner and arrive in the dining room. We are not the last to arrive. Alpha and Sophie’s chairs are empty. As we sit down, Bella notices my eyes lingering on the vacant chairs.
“Domestic dispute,” she says.
Bailey, who rarely speaks, nods her head and says softly, “Let’s hope Sophie comes around.”
Sophie? I’ve known this group for less than two full days and it’s clear to me that Sophie isn’t the problem. “Should we go get her? I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding. Maybe we can help set things right.”
Bella shoots me a sharp look and Jake rubs a knuckle under his nose. He sneers at me. “Ace, inform your woman.”
Under the table, Korwin nudges my knee, hard. I clamp my lips closed. “Alpha is disciplining her,” he says firmly. “In an argument with the alpha, the alpha is always right.”
Sting hooks an arm over Bella’s shoulders and runs his palm over the front of her dress. The movement makes me uncomfortable and I look away. “You’re new here,” he says to me. “Ace will teach you how things work, one way or another.”
I stare down at my empty plate.
Alpha and Sophie arrive moments later and her appearance makes me cringe. The right side of her face is black and blue and she’s walking with a limp. She sits down across the table from me but does not meet my eyes. Alpha takes the head of the table as usual, brushing my knee with his own as he lowers himself to his chair.
“Excuse me,” I say, scooting my chair away to make more room.
His hand clamps around my thigh under the table, and his eyes lock on to me. “You’re fine. Stay where you are.” His voice is a low growl and his meaty hand lingers. I glance at Korwin, but he can’t see it and I dare not call it out at the table.
The alpha is always right.
Fortunately, a mutt arrives with the food and conversation turns to Friday’s fight.
22
This time, at dinner, I’m careful not to drink too much. I ask the mutt server for water, and she brings it immediately, without question. The others are deep in conversation about Friday’s fight. As far as I can tell, the Red Dogs’ entire economy revolves around fighting. They don’t grow or build anything, but everyone steals. What they steal, they sell for units, which they store in portable devices. They gamble those units in the weekly fights and use them to buy the things they can’t steal on the black market.
Before I came to the English world, I never knew the deadzone existed. I might’ve guessed there were others living off-grid. Bradford Adams, for example, is barely on the map. But organized clans that exist only through the propagation of crime? I never would have believed it.
“Would you like some more wine?” Alpha asks me. Never mind that my glass is more than half full and I could easily ask the mutt for more.
“No, thank you.”
Korwin slows the pace of his eating beside me and looks at Alpha out of the corner of his eye. “Lydia is only allowed one glass tonight,” he says authoritatively.
Alpha laughs. “Nonsense. She can have as much as she wants. I insist.”
“No, thank you,” I repeat.
The giant of a man folds one meaty hand over the other. His eyes rake over me. “What do you think of your new home, Lydia?”
My eyes dart around the table. Sophie is contemplating her plate, Korwin has an utterly confused look on his f
ace, and everyone else is staring at me like Alpha just asked a monkey to recite Shakespeare. I swallow what’s in my mouth and try my best to be diplomatic. “I feel blessed to have a roof over my head and food to eat.”
For a moment, no one says a word. They stare at the monkey, trying to decipher its jumping and armpit scratching. But then Alpha laughs. “You hear that, Sophie? This one knows her place. She knows how to show a little gratitude.”
Sophie hunches into herself across the table.
“It was Sophie who taught me to think this way,” I say. Korwin kicks me under the table.
Alpha snorts and drains his wine. He snaps his fingers repeatedly and the girl fills his glass again. “Let me see your dress.” He motions with his knuckle for me to stand up. I glance at Korwin, who is statuesque in his chair next to me.
“Ex-excuse me?”
“Stand up and let me see your pretty dress,” he says again.
Sophie gives a soft whimper and then clears her throat to cover it up, but Bella catches my gaze. Her eyes widen and she nods as if to say, “Go ahead.”
But Korwin’s hand falls on my thigh. “Why does she need to show you her dress?”
“I want to make sure you’ve dressed her appropriately for her station,” Alpha says. The two men glare at each other, the tension at the table blooming to dangerous levels.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
“That’s a good girl,” Alpha says.
I push back my chair and stand, adjusting the dress on my shoulders to keep it from falling. Teetering on the heels Korwin provided me, I slowly pivot, feeling exposed, totally on display. A low whistle comes from behind me, and then Alpha’s out of his chair and standing beside me. He sweeps my hair into one hand and traces a finger down my spine.
“You’ve seen the dress.” Korwin’s arm is around my shoulder, pulling me into his chest. “It goes perfectly with her collar.”
Alpha’s hand lingers on my lower back for a beat, and then he retreats to his seat, sweeping his goblet into his hand and draining it dry. “It’s a good thing you’re a prizefighter, Ace, or someone might snatch this little piece from your side.”
