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“It doesn’t matter what we think,” Nightshade adds, with a little more force than necessary. “She’ll have to prove herself like we all did.”
I allow a slow grin to snake its way across my face. “She won’t have to prove shit if Rat’s already sunk his teeth into her.”
“I don’t know,” Honey counters, shaking his head with a shrewd smile. “My money’s on the redhead. You know their fire extends way beyond the bedroom.”
Ain’t that the truth.
THEY’RE JUST GIVING ME A STEAK KNIFE FOR SHITS AND GIGGLES?
‘YOU MADE A MONSTER’ – NICK KINGSLEY & HANNAH HART
KOOKABURRA
Idon’t bother heading straight to the canteen. I take advantage of my unsupervised time to snoop and explore a little.
Every single door along the corridor that I try is locked, even the ones innocently labelled things like ‘recreation room’ and ‘library’. They all require a fingerprint scan to unlock and access. Which sucks, and is bullshit if you ask me. I have to get permission to read a book? Whatever.
What if all your fingerprints get burnt off? How would the staff do their job then? Silly if you ask me. And in a place like this, with people like me around, I’d bet it happens more often than you’d think.
There’s cameras all along the hallway too. Ceiling mounted ones every couple of metres,andon the door frames. Seems a bit excessive. It also means that whoever is monitoring the security knows that I’m alone and snooping, and as no one has come to reprimand me yet, I’m taking it as permission to keep going.
How much damage can one itty bitty little girl do, alone in a corridor full of locked doors and cameras?
Quite a fucking lot actually. If I wanted to.
But I meant what I said about being hungry and horny, so I soon give up my futile search in favour of following my nose to the canteen.
When I arrive, I stop dead in my tracks and my brows draw into a frown. I’m bewildered; I was expecting a large, school-style cafeteria, filled with the hubbub and activity of many inmates. But that’s not what greets me.
I’m staring at a small room, much better suited to intimate dining, with only one table which is set for eight. There’s no self serve counter, no dried-out congealed gloop bubbling under heat lamps, no plastic utensils. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m wearing a very attractive bright orange jumpsuit right now, I could be fooled into thinking I had entered a fine dining restaurant. Only, there aren’t even any waiters. There’s literally no one here, other than six of the seven inmates I met at group therapy.
“Where’s Rat?” Honeymonster asks, a slight, knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
“Who?” I grin at him and counter his question with one of my own. “Where’s everyone else?”
Snow huffs. “You know who. Where is he? We can’t eat until everyone’s present.” He stares pointedly at me, but I take my sweet time finding my place becauseRatisn’t here soI’mnot the one holding us up.
Once I’m seated, thankfully next to Honeymonster and away from Snow and the only other empty chair, I glance around looking for…what? Staff maybe?
“Where do we get the food?” I ask no one in particular.
“They bring it out when we’re all here,” Honey answers.
“How many more are we waiting on?”
“Just Rat,” he replies.
I frown at that. Are we kept in pods or something? No more than eight of us to interact at once? Whereiseveryone else?
“Well, they should probably get on with it then becauseRatis in the infirmary.” I don’t bother to hide the smugness in my tone. I didn’t like him, and I was glad he put his hands on me and gave me an excuse to warn him off. It was barely a scratch anyway. He was overreacting. I’ve broken my fingers fucking myself before and not moaned about it as much as he did.
The guy with the white-blond hair – was he Bones? Or Ghost? Who cares, he’s so pretty – gapes at me.
“What?” I jibe.
“Nothing,” he rasps, quickly looking away, seeming spooked by my attention.
No one around the table wants to meet my gaze and there’s a tension in the room that wasn’t there before. So I study the place setting. I drum my fingers on the plates and discover that they’re really made of china. Not plastic. The metal cutlery actually looks lethal and – I flick the glass before me and it rings loud and true in the room – the glasses are made of real fucking glass.
