Page 51 of Pretty Savage: Defy

“Carr Ashford’s Bonded.” Her answer is casual, but she doesn’t look at me. “They live in the west wing, opposite of here.”

I stare, watching them fade into the woods.

“Mother hates them.” She adds in an offhanded way, “Won’t be in the same room as them.”

I’m watching Sam now, not the view out the window. For the second time today, her usual cheerful façade has cracked. Now her face is set into grim lines.

“Why?”

“Who knows? I think she’s jealous. That Carr made her a Mother and sent her away to raise me while they got to stay here with him. Which is crazy to me. I’d never want to be them. The bonded women left behind. The ones everyone knows weren’t chosen. Second place.”

“If it’s so insulting to not be chosen as Mother, why don’t they leave?”

“Where else would they go?” Sam lets out a sad laugh. “Bonding is permanent. Just like it was for Staci.” She turns back toward me. “When I was younger, I thought getting bonded was the best thing that could happen to me. You get chosen by a Brother. You get a house, a name, money. You’re protected.” Her mouth tugs to the side. “That’s what we’re taught, anyway.”

My heart aches at that. How in The Order women like Sam are taught from birth that being chosen is the same thing as mattering.

“Sometimes I worry I’ll end up like them,” Sam says, staring out the window. “What if that’s all I ever am? Bonded but never chosen as a Mother. A woman with a bedroom in some rich man’s house, wearing his jewelry and waiting for him to decide whether to give me attention that day. It reminds me of that book you gave me. The Handmaid’s Tale, remember?”

I nod.

“What if I end up like the women in that book? Property to be used. Close to power but never having it as my own.”

“You don’t have to become that.”

“It’s easy for you to say. Carrson already chose you.”

“No,” I correct her gently. “It’s easy for me to say because I believe in the right of a woman to say no. Carrson only gets me because I chose him back.”

“I don’t think I could do it. Turn down the chance to be bonded.” Her chest rises on a deep breath. “It’s the only path forward for me.”

“Are you kidding me? You’re one of the strongest women I know,” I tell her. “You’re good at it, taking charge, like at Rosewood. You can be that without being bonded.”

“I make rules inside the walls they give me, but only Mothers are allowed to sit on the High Council. Only Mothers get a vote in what happens.” She lifts her chin, the fear in her expression giving way to resolve. Defiance blazes in her aqua-blue eyes. “I need to be bonded and chosen as a Mother. Then I could do more than run Rosewood. I could protect girls like Staci before it’s too late. I could make rules that actually matter.”

“But Sam, I don’t think—”

“Enough.” Her smile returns, but it’s more brittle this time. “I have a plan. I’m sticking to it.”

The words I want to say crowd in my mouth. That she deserves more than a future someone else assigns her. That gaining power shouldn’t require giving up her own, but Sam’s looking at me like she knows every argument I’ll make and she’s already dismissed them.

“Ballroom first. Existential dread later.” She opens the door and steps into the hallway.

I turn to follow her, but a flash of color outside the window catches my eye.

At the far corner of the backyard, half-hidden by a clipped hedge, a pair of weathered cellar doors angle out of the ground. One stands open just wide enough for a pale hand to grip it from the inside.

Then the door is drawn shut, but not before I glimpse a strand of reddish-blond hair catching in the weak fall sunlight before it disappears. At first, I think it might be Sam. The color is close to hers, only a shade darker, but Sam is standing in front of me.

“Is your mother here?” I ask.

She pauses with her hand on the doorknob. “Mother? No. She’s up in Washington, lobbying for some bill that goes through next week. Healthcare-related, I think. Why?”

I look back. The cellar doors are closed now, ordinary against the winter-brown grass.

“Nothing. Forget it.” I follow her into the hallway. “Let’s go see that ballroom.”

**