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Delaney disappears behind a tree, returning a second later with the box of my notebooks.

No!

I lunge toward her, but Sydney and Amber are on me before I make it two steps, each grabbing an arm and yanking me backward.

“What are you going to do with those?” I ask, real fear seeping into my voice.

Peyton just smiles. “Haven’t you been paying attention?” She walks toward Delaney. “I’m going to show you what happens when you keep getting in my way.” She flips the lid off the box. “So much time you put into these little notebooks. So much energy. So much creativity.”

“Peyton, don’t.”

Her sinister smile only widens when she plucks one of my notebooks out and tosses it into the fire.

“NO!”

I fight against Amber and Sydney with everything I have, almost managing to wrench one of my arms free.

“A little help here!” Amber shouts.

“Kayla,” Peyton orders. “Go help them.”

“I’m not doing shit,” Kayla says, arms crossed while leaning against a tree trunk. “I told you I don’t agree with this.”

“And I told you that if you want to remain a Red, this is part of your initiation.” Peyton’s voice hardens. “Now go.”

“Bitch,” Kayla mutters before pushing off the tree and walking toward me.

For one stupid second, hope sparks inside me.

Maybe she’ll help me. Maybe there’s at least one person here who isn’t morally bankrupt.

That hope dies the second Kayla steps behind me, grabs me by the shoulders, and forces me onto my knees.

As I struggle under her hold, I catch sight of a red string tied around Kayla’s wrist. My struggles falter the second I see it.

It’s no use. Kayla’s been tied in, which means she’s one of them now.

But just as that realization comes to me, so does another.

I instinctively seek out Misty. She sits cross-legged on one of the picnic tables, watching everything unfold like it’s her favorite TV show. She looks so excited by the whole spectacle that her knee won’t stop bouncing, prompting her to clamp a hand over it. And that’s when I see the red string tied around her wrist too.

Everything inside me goes cold.

Misty is a Fairhope Red.

“That’s it,” Peyton says, pulling my attention back to her. “Give me those tears.” She reaches into the box again. “Cry for me, bitch,” she shouts, making sure that another notebook disappears into the flames.

“Stop!” I scream. “Please, Peyton. Stop!”

“You want me to stop?” She grabs two more. “Then beg me.”

“Please.”

“Louder.”

“Please!”

“Let me hear you fucking beg!”