Page 7 of Glutton for Punishment

“So what?” I snap. “You’ll keep me here? Locked up like inventory? Forever?”

Blaise chuckles softly, pleased.

“Oh no. That would be a waste of potential.” He leans closer, lowering his voice. “We have plans. But first, we must understand the full scope of your capabilities. Learn how to refine them.”

His eyes gleam. The same eyes that used to provide comfort until I learned they were just pretty lies. Ryker looks so much like his father.

“Control them, you mean. Use me like a tool. Like father, like son.” I say, scathing.

“You are pure destruction,” he says. “And destruction—when properly directed—is immensely profitable.”

The words slice through me as his intentions register. He wants to use me to hurt people. To control me and maximize his power and influence.

A year ago, I was invisible. Safe in my smallness. Everyone looked at me like nothing, if they bothered to look at all.

Now he’s talking about turning me into a force that devours the world.

“I won’t do it.” I force my voice steady despite the pounding of my heart. “You might as well keep me locked in here and throw away the key.”

Blaise’s smile doesn’t fade as he looks to Atticus.

“Oh, I think you can be… compelled.”

The realization hits like a blade to the gut. He’s using Atticus as his leverage. He has me, and he knows it from the way I protected him.

“We’ll begin first thing tomorrow. I’d advise you to rest. Big investments require hard work.” Blaise says. He turns and walks out, the door slamming shut with finality.

Terror grips me in a vice. I’m not afraid of what he’ll do to me. I’m afraid of what he will make me do to the world.

Chapter 2

Brix

The dining hall smells like burnt toast and industrial cleaner; the sharp citrus sting mixing unpleasantly with grease. The staff has been working overtime to get the dining hall clean for summer break.

Sly rambles on about his upcoming final across from me while I chew my rubbery eggs and overcooked potatoes, despite not having an appetite. My enhanced senses make everything worse on mornings like this: the scrape of metal forks on tin trays, the hum of pointless conversations layered over one another… someone laughs three tables back with a pitch that drills straight into my skull.

Usually, I can tune it all out.

But today I don’t have the energy or the desire to put in much effort. Just like yesterday. And the day before that.

When I notice Sly has gone quiet, I look up to find him staring across the hall with a mix of longing and frustration on his face. I follow his gaze to our usual table, now sitting empty. Normally I’d try to lift his spirits by saying something stupid, but nothing funny comes to mind.

I haven’t been able to think of much to say to anyone. I haven’t been able to think at all since she disappeared.

“Holly…” Sly murmurs, perking up in his seat.

I turn in my seat to find her walking towards our usual table with her breakfast tray, Tabby and Cleo flanking her. The three of them slow when they spot us, and there’s a visible hesitation before they change direction and start walking toward our table.

I drag a hand through my curls. Things have been tense between us since they heard about how I rejected Arwen’s plea for help.

“Morning,” I call as they approach and give them a small smile, waving the white flag, so to speak.

Holly doesn’t smile back at all. I could blame it on the sleep deprivation, clear by the bags under her eyes, but I know she is furious with me. Tabby has matching purple circles under hers, and Cleo’s red eyes look like they’ve run out of tears.

They stop at the edge of the table, and Holly folds her arms across her chest. She won’t even glance at Sly, just stares at me.

“Have you heard anything new about Arwen?” she asks.