Chapter 36
VI
It felt so good to forget for a minute.
To forget that I came here to save my father’s reputation and ended up a Runt with a target on my back. To forget that crazy girl’s cold smile. To forget whoever’s out there looking for me.
I lean back against the wall, pulling my knees up despite the protest from the bad one.
Someone came looking for you.
The words loop in my head, relentless. Who? I run through the list again, even though it’s painfully short.
Mara.
It has to be Mara.
She’s the only person I can think of who might care enough to risk it. But even as I think it, doubt creeps in.
She wasn’t there when I needed her before. When the city turned on my father, when people stopped talking to me, when I was eating scraps and sleeping on a friend’s couch because I couldn’t afford rent, where was she then?
Gone. Like everyone else.
So why now? Why risk coming to the Rot—a place everyone knows is dangerous, lawless, deadly—just to find me? Unless it’s not about me at all.
What if she wants something? What if she’s looking for leverage? Information? Proof that my father was guilty so she can clear her own family’s name? Or what if it’s not Mara at all?
What if it’s someone worse?
A politician trying to tie up loose ends. Someone who wants to use me as a pawn in whatever power game is still playing out in the ruins of Rothwell.
My breath comes faster.
Or who doesn’t care about you and wants something.
Sting’s words echo in my head, cold and certain.
Either way, that makes them dangerous.
I press my palms against my eyes, trying to stop the spiral. It doesn’t work. Because the truth is, I don’t know who’s out there. I don’t know what they want. And I don’t know if I even want to be found. That thought stops me cold.
Do I want to be found?
I drop my hands, staring at the dim light overhead.
A day ago, the answer would have been obvious. Yes. Of course. Get me out of here. Help me escape.
But now?
Now, I’m sitting in a locked room in the belly of the Rot, my lips still tingling from a kiss I didn’t fight, my body still humming from hands that held me like I was something worth keeping. And part of me, some small, treacherous, fucked up part, doesn’t want to leave.
Not because it’s safe here. It’s not. Not because I trust them. I don’t. But because out there, I was nothing. No family. No friends. No future. Just the ghost of my father’s failures hanging around my neck like a noose.
Here, I’m something. Or have the potential to be something.
A Runt, yes. But a Runt with protection. A Runt people notice. A Runt who punched a girl in the stomach and lived to tell about it. A Runt who got kissed like she mattered.
I had nothing going for me, which is why I guess I signed on to the Hunt.
The words I said to Sting echo back at me now, sharper than I meant them.
I wasn’t lying. I had a whole lot of nothing.
And maybe that’s why I can’t stop thinking about the way he looked at me. The way he touched me. The way he said mine like it was a fact, not a question.
Because no one’s ever wanted me like that before. No one’s ever looked at me like I was worth fighting for.
Even if it’s twisted. Even if it’s wrong. Even if it’s just protection dressed up as possession. It’s still more than I had out there, in the dregs of the fallen town of Rothwell.
I close my eyes, exhaling slowly.
You’re adapting, I think. You’re getting used to this place.
The mask doesn’t bother me anymore. The corridors don’t feel as claustrophobic. The constant hum of danger has become background noise. That should terrify me.
It doesn’t.
And that terrifies me more than anything else.
A sound outside the door makes me stiffen. Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate. They stop right outside.
My heart jumps into my throat.
I stare at the door, waiting for the lock to disengage. Waiting for it to swing open. It doesn’t. The footsteps move on, fading down the corridor.
I exhale shakily, my hands curling into fists against my thighs.
The girl.
She’s out there. Watching. Waiting. And I yelled at her. Called her a bitch. Gave her exactly what she wanted.
Sting was right. I failed the test.
But next time, if there is a next time, I won’t. Next time, I’ll be smarter. I’ll wait. I’ll watch. I’ll figure out when she’s vulnerable and where she’s weak. And then I’ll make sure she knows I’m not someone she can fuck with.
The thought should scare me. It doesn’t.
It feels good. I lean my head back against the wall, staring at the ceiling.
Two threats. One inside. One outside. The troublemaker who wants to hurt me because I got something she didn’t.
The outsider who wants... what? To save me?
To use me? To finish what someone else started?
I don’t know.
But I know one thing. I’m not going to sit here and wait for either of them to decide my fate. Tomorrow, I start learning how to survive this place. How to move through it. How to be dangerous instead of just reactive. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll figure out who I’m becoming.
Not the girl who lost everything. Not the daughter of a disgraced mayor. Not even the Runt everyone expects me to be.
Someone else. Someone who belongs.