Broken City: Forsaken Part 12

"Hungry?" she baits me with a smirk.

I shake my head, even though my mouth salivates. I can taste the fresh scent of leaves and life, and my taste buds go crazy in antic.i.p.ation.

"Are you sure?" She sticks her hand into the trunk and removes a small, leather pouch. "Because you look famished."

I shake my head again, but every bone in my body wants to rip that pouch out of her hand, even if it means stealing the knife off a nearby table and slitting her throat.

She unlaces the pouch and inches it toward my nose, watching my reaction closely. The smell is absolutely divine. I want to dive in, devour, feed the hunger pulsing inside me ...

Oh, G.o.d, I sound just like Lex when he was hungry for me.

The revelation calms me down enough that I can step back.

"That's not food in there."

"Maybe not for humans." She urges the pouch closer to my nose. "But for you, I think it might be really tasty."

I stab my fingernails into my palms. "No, thank you."

She scowls, lowering the bag from my face. "Fine. If you want to play this way, then we will." She chucks the pouch into the trunk and slams the lid closed. "I was going to make you all take the test, anyway. The others aren't marked with a number, but I won't take any chances."

Marching over to the entrance of the tent, she pokes her head outside. "Bring me the three who came with her."

She steps back inside the tent, letting the flaps close. "I'll admit, I was a bit jealous of you. The way the one guy-Blaise, I think, was his name-ran off, trying to lead us away from you and how the other two fought to protect you ... At first, I thought maybe it was because they were all in love with you. And maybe they are, but that's not the only reason they protect you, is it?"

When I don't answer, she s.n.a.t.c.hes ahold of my arm and drags me toward the curtains. "I want to play a little game. Whether you turn out to be a hybrid or not, I want to have some fun. G.o.d knows it's been ages. And if you don't end up being a hybrid, I'll just use you to toy with that pierced guy of yours. I'll mess with him just like he tried to mess with us." She whisks through the curtains and shoves me toward a four-poster bed, the wood scratched and worn with age.

I land on the mattress with a bounce then hurry and flip over.

"I heard that he challenged Wrath." She strolls over to another wooden piece of furniture ... a dresser, I think, and glides the top drawer open. "And even though I doubt Wrath will need help killing the stupid b.a.s.t.a.r.d..." She glances over her shoulder at me with her brows raised. "That is, unless it turns out he's a hybrid. Then maybe Wrath will end up dead." She measures my reaction, which I hope comes off as indifferent, and then rolls her eyes. "Anyway, if I've learned anything, it's that a good fight between men usually happens when a beautiful woman is involved." She rummages through articles of clothing piled in the drawer. "I'm making sure we have that so the fight between my Wrath and your pierced friend will be good and b.l.o.o.d.y and gory, just how I like it." She turns to me, holding a stack of clothes. "Even if it turns out you're a hybrid, I might hold on to that information until after the fight. No one is going to want to fight over a hybrid-well, at least not my Wrath." Not waiting for me to answer, she throws the clothes at me. "Now get dressed."

I expect her to leave, but she takes a seat in the chair, crosses her legs, and sits back.

I unfold the clothes she gave me and try not to pull a face. I've never seen such flimsy fabric. Does this even cover up anything?

"Hurry up," she orders, thrumming her fingers against the armrest. "I want you ready to go when they get here."

Forcing down the vomit, I push to my feet and slip off my boots. With fumbling fingers, I remove my jacket, s.h.i.+rt, and pants, but keep the gloves on. Then I put on the red dress.

The fabric is soft like velvet and slides over my thin frame. Long in the back and extremely short in the front, it makes me feel too exposed. The top section isn't any better, either, with an open back and slits running along the side.

"You have a lot of scars," Zinnia remarks. "That doesn't make sense. Hybrids are supposed to heal without scarring.

"That's because I'm not a hybrid." My fingers tremble as I zip up the zipper on the dress.

She purses her chapped lips. "Where were you born?"

I rack my mind for a lie to feed her. "The d-docks," I stammer the first place that pops into my mind.

"Really?" She pushes to her feet and yanks off my fingerless gloves. "And where are the docks located again?" She tosses the gloves on top of the dresser. "I forget."

"In lakes and in the ocean." I internally cringe at my off balance tone.

"And how did you escape the docks?" she asks, collecting a basin and washcloth.

I recount the story Ryder told me. "I jumped off and swam to the sh.o.r.e."

"How very brave of you." Her derisive grin suggests she's toying with me, playing a game like the visitors used to do with me.

She sets the basin and cloth down on the bed. "Funny. Your friend, the one with the blond hair, told me the exact same story."

"W-w live there together," I sputter in a panic.

"He never mentioned that. In fact, I think I remember him mentioning he escaped alone," she says. "So, my bet is one of you is lying."

"When did Ryder tell you about the docks?" That doesn't make sense. Blaise said Ryder hardly told anyone.

She soaks the cloth in the water. "He can be quite chatty when he's all doped up." She wrings out the cloth, her eyes narrowing on me. "I really do hate liars. I think they should be punished. But the question is, who was lying? Him or you? My bet is you."

Guilt clutches at my throat. There's no way I can let Ryder go down for this and get punished.

"Me," I confess. "I don't know where I was born."

"I figured you were the liar. Most people under the influence of dreamland don't lie. In fact, they can be pretty truthful." Anger sparks in her eyes. "Too truthful sometimes. It takes the fun out of my game when they don't want to play with me." She begins cleaning the dirt off my arms, scrubbing so harshly my skin turns red. "I can't figure you out. You scar, yet the place where the dart struck your neck healed within seconds. You're from the channels, but you don't know if you born there. But all hybrids are born there. Maybe you're lying. Maybe you were born there. But if you weren't, then what are you?"

"I'm human." Liar. You're not even close, and deep down, you know it.

"Doubtful. You heal too quickly." She moves the cloth to my neck, and I focus on her knife collection spread out on a trunk, anything other than her touching me. "We'll soon find out if you're one of them. If you are, then I'm going to tear you apart."

"And if I'm not?"

"Then I'll tear you apart and feed you to the Deorum." A merciless smile spreads across her face. "No matter what you turn out to be, your outcome will be death." She rolls her eyes at the sight of the tears pooling in the corner of my eyes. "Death isn't as bad as everyone makes it out to be. The world is only for the strong. If you're weak, you'll get broken again and again. It's just how things work out here. It's why our kind thrives in the murder and chaos-because we understand that, in order to survive their evil, we have to be equally as evil as the Grim." She drags the rag down to my collarbone.

"You don't seem strong, but the other hybrids didn't seem strong, either. It was all an act, though." She stares off into empty s.p.a.ce, her eyes overflowing with undiluted pain. "I'll never make that mistake again. The sacrifices make sure of that."

Her gaze cuts to me. "At first, I questioned how you got into our camp. If you are a Nameless, how did the Deorum betray us and let you in? But you're different from the other ones. Maybe that's why." She dunks the cloth into the basin again. "Or maybe you're something else. Either way, I'll be doing the world a favor by eliminating you. The last thing this world needs is another strange, unknown creature wandering around. It's what started this whole mess. A single creature that selfishly dropped from the sky and brought an army of Grim with them. Just one creature started the destruction of mankind."

Her words slice through me. An unknown creature started this whole mess? No one seems to know what I am. What if ...? No. It can't be. I'd remember something like that. Or would I? I'm only beginning to realize just how many memories I've forgotten.

"Oh, yeah, I forgot most don't know about the legends." Zinnia grins, misinterpreting my horror-stricken face. "Sucks to be you. Knowledge is power, something the station doesn't understand. They're so dead set on trying to find that object that supposedly contains the world's history because they think it holds the answers to the Grim. If they'd just believe in our legends, their lives would be so much easier."

So many questions burn at the tip of my tongue. What was this creature that caused the destruction? How did it cause the destruction? Where did it come from? And where is it now? But when I open my mouth to ask, she places a finger to my lips.

"Nope. I never tell outsiders our secrets, especially ones who could be hybrids." She goes back to cleaning me.

With every swipe of the damp cloth, my stomach churns. I don't know how many times I've been touched without permission, but it's definitely been too many. I want to shove her down and run, but I keep thinking of Blaise, Ryder, and Reece and how they've never abandoned me, even when things got intense.

After Zinnia finishes was.h.i.+ng me, she adds a few silver cuffs to my neck and wrists. Then she combs my hair and puts a mess of braids down one side. By the time she's finished, I feel like a doll all over again.

She drops the brush onto the bed and steps back, admiring her work. "I think that should do. You look good enough to get some male testosterone flowing. Although, you look like you could use some food and water." She reaches back behind her, picks up a tin cup and a bowl, and thrusts them at me. "Eat and drink up."

I recall Blaise's rules of survival, particularly the one where he told me never to eat or drink anything I didn't prepare myself.

"No, thanks. I'm not hungry." But my stomach grumbles in contradiction.

She s.n.a.t.c.hes the cup from me and shoves the brim against my lips. "You will do what I say and will be grateful for every bite of food and every sip of water. We don't usually offer our prisoners such luxuries, but I'm making an exception right now so you don't faint before I have my fun." She tilts the cup and forces the water into my mouth.

I choke as the water slips down my throat and drips down my chin and neck. After she has emptied the cup, she throws it aside and then stuffs bits of charred meat between my lips. When she turns around to grab a knife off the dresser, I spit the food onto the ground then step forward to hide the evidence under my feet.

She turns with a knife in her hand and points the tip at my pulse. "Your heart's pounding. You're afraid. Hybrids aren't usually afraid." When I say nothing, she lowers the knife from my neck. A few droplets of my blood dot the blade. "Come on. I think they're already waiting for us."

She steps inside the main area of the tent, and I follow, feeling sickened over every word she spoke to me, every touch she stole from me. But the feeling alleviates when I spot Ryder, Reece, and Blaise sitting on the floor near the chairs. Their clothing and faces are smudged with mud, but I can't see any sc.r.a.pes, cuts, or bruises on their skin. And they're awake and not giggling and sobbing like the last time I saw them.

"I brought you a present." Zinnia shoves me forward.

I trip over the train of the dress and stumble in the dirt. Ryder leaps to his feet, his arms circling my waist to steady me. I rest my head against his chest as all the fear, worry, and self-disgust bottled up inside my chest crash over me. I want to cry over being touched by Zinnia. I want to scream at myself for not being a better liar. Most of all, I want to warn them of the Deorum and the sacrifice and how Zinnia is going to test us to see if we're hybrids.

"Ryder, I have to tell you something." My voice wobbles. "They're going to kill us. They're sacrificing us to the Deorum."

Every single muscle in Ryder's body stiffens, but he traces his finger up and down my spine. "Sh ... I've got you. You're safe now. We'll protect you."

"This is what you all wanted, right?" Jealously rings in Zinnia's tone. "What you begged for instead of me? Honestly, I don't get it. I mean, I know everyone at the station tries to preach about compa.s.sion, but how can you possibly care for someone who might be part of the thing that ruined your lives? It's disgusting."

Ryder's fingers stop moving. "What are you talking about?"

Oh, G.o.d, she's going to tell him she thinks I'm a hybrid.

"I'm talking about her being a Grim," she says, her tone frigid. "Or, at least, half-Grim."

"You're lying." Ryder breathes fiercely. "How dare you say she's one of those monsters. You're just bitter because no one wants you."

"How dare you disrespect me!" she shouts. "I should have my guard's shoot you dead right now."

"Do it," Ryder taunts. "You keep threatening the same thing, yet you never follow through. And you want to know why? Because you can't. You need us and every other prisoner you've got trapped beneath the ground."

"For a sacrifice," she fires back. "But you know what? I'm starting to think I might have more than enough prisoners. I could easily eliminate a few."

"Do it, then," Ryder goads, his hands splaying across my lower back. "I dare you."

"Ryder," Reece warns. "That's enough. You're only making this worse."

Ryder's fingers fold inward, but he stays quiet.

I tilt my head and glance at Zinnia, wondering what she's about to do.

She gives me a look that could kill before glaring at Ryder. "You're going to regret ever rejecting me. And when I prove you wrong, when I prove she's one of them, I'm going to make you watch as I kill her," Zinnia snarls then spins toward the entrance of the tent. "Wrath! Bring me the handcuffs!"

Wrath enters the tent a split second later, dressed head to toe in leather and carrying four sets of rusty chains, each linked to a set of metal cuffs. They're definitely not like the magnetic handcuffs I'm used to, but they look equally as uncomfortable.

"Sit down. All of you." Zinnia hauls me away from Ryder and pushes me down again.

I land on my hands and knees with a grunt and quickly crawl over beside Blaise. Sitting down beside him, I cover my legs up with the train of the dress, trying to cover as much of myself up as I can.

Ryder takes a seat on the other side of Reece, looking as if he's one step away from wringing Zinnia's neck.

Zinnia huddles with Wrath and whispers a few words, causing Wrath's expression to harden.

While they're distracted, Blaise leans toward me, his shoulder grazing mine "Are you okay?"

I nod, but I can't look him in the eye. How can I after what Zinnia said about the foreign creature who led the Grim to this world? What if I am this creature? Blaise may have been okay with me being different, but I doubt he'd be okay with that.

"Don't worry," Blaise whispers. "We have a plan. A few more minutes, and we'll be out of this mess."

My lips part to ask him what the plan is, but Wrath stomps up to us, and I snap my mouth shut.

"No talking," he barks, dropping all but one of the handcuffs down on the ground. Winding around me, he seizes my arms behind my back and buckles a metal cuff on each of my wrists. Then he deliberately drags his finger up my spine and puts his lips close to my ear. "I can't wait until I get to kill your friend," he whispers. "You're the prize. And I never lose."

I slant forward, recoiling, my hair spilling over my shoulders.

He laughs then moves on to Blaise, grabbing ahold of his arm. With a twist of his wrist, Wrath bends Blaise's hand in the wrong direction. I hear a snap of bones breaking, and Blaise's face contorts in pain.

"I'm going to f.u.c.king kill you for that," Blaise grits through his teeth.

"Maybe I should break your other hand, too, then," Wrath sneers, his knuckles whitening as he grasps Blaise's good arm.

"Don't." Zinnia steps up in front of us, holding the leather pouch she waved in front of my face earlier. "I can't have him completely incapacitated."

Wrath's lip curls as he scowls at Zinnia. "Whatever you want, your highness."

Zinnia orders him to finish handcuffing Reece, Ryder, and Blaise. Wrath does what he's told then drags a chair over to the center of the tent and takes a seat to watch the show.

Terror lashes through me as Zinnia opens the pouch and reaches inside. When she withdraws her hand, she's holding a handful of dry, brownish-green leaves-quercu. I'm not sure what I expected, but definitely not leave. Still, those leaves call to me, beckoning me to taste them. The intoxicating scent sends my body into a mad frenzy.

"No. No. No. You can't eat them, or you're done for," someone says. "Then it can't be undone."

My head whips around, and for a fraction of a second, I swear I see someone race across the tent. But when I blink, they're gone.

Zinnia waves her hand around in the air, and the crisp smell of the leaves catches in the air.

I breathe in deeply, and my mouth waters, a moan escaping my lips.

Blaise's gaze darts to me, alarm flooding his eyes.

My stomach turns. Look how appalled he is. He knows how much you want it.

Zinnia approaches Ryder first. "Open your mouth."

Ryder glares at her with his lips fused together.