“Thought about it, but no. He’s sleeping.” I can’t help but give a little laugh. I am wearing a dangerous smirk. This idiot has no idea who I am or what I can do. I’m grinning because he thinks he has a chance, and I’m happy because there are so many cruel boys like him in the world and so many helpless girls. I don’t really believe in Karma. I’ve seen too many good people die and too many assholes win, but tonight is different. It feels like the universe put me in this room for a reason, and on behalf of so many defenseless women, I’m about to tip the scales in their favor—for once.
“You’re disgusting,” I tell him as I lose the smile. “All the therapy in the world won’t help you. There is something dark and twisted inside of you; I can see it in your eyes. A person like you understands only two things: fear and violence. And since you’re clearly not afraid of me …”
The boy gets inches in front of my face. The veins in his neck bulge. His eyes widen and shift erratically back and forth. “Shut up!” he screams. “All you ARC brats are the same. You walk around thinking that you’re better than us, smarter than us—”
“We are,” I interrupt, which only pisses him off more.
“There is something not right with you people. I don’t even know if you are people.” Now he’s the one to laugh, and he throws his hands up wildly. “You’re all fucking robots or aliens or something, but you don’t scare me. You think I won’t hit someone just because they’re a girl?”
I narrow my eyes at him. I know I’m goading him, but I can’t help it. He is a truly vile individual.
“I’m counting on it.”
He lunges at me and I grab his fist and squeeze, breaking every bone in his hand. He whimpers and goes down on his knees. I twist behind him and deliver one swift kick to his kidney, which lands him on the floor, howling in pain. I spin once more and hit him in the face. Then I hit him again. I keep hitting, knowing that I’m inflicting damage, but I’m holding back because I do not want to kill him. Though, frankly, I kind of think the world would be a better place without him. His face is a bloody mess.
I crouch down beside him. He is sputtering blood, coughing, trying to catch his breath. “Pay attention,” I say in a soothing tone. “There is a lesson to be learned with every defeat. Like I told you: fear and violence—that’s all you understand. You’ll think twice now before you try something like this again. Really, you should be thanking me. Maybe you won’t end up in prison.”
“Screw you,” he manages to wheeze out of his swollen lips.
I stand up and look down at him. “No. Clearly that won’t be happening. I guess you haven’t learned your lesson after all. So I suppose we’ll just have to stick to violence. I know who you are and if I ever, ever hear that you’ve been inappropriate with a girl, I will come back and finish you. I will kill you, and I will get away with it.”
The boy says nothing. I lean down and grab his face with my hand. I rear my other fist back to punch him again. He whimpers and shies away. “No, no, please don’t.” He is crying now. “I heard you. I won’t. Please!” I let his face go. I grab his T-shirt from the floor by the bed and wipe as much blood off my hands as I can manage.
“Now, pick up your friend and get out of this house. And don’t even think of telling anyone what happened here.” I throw the shirt in his face and he gingerly puts it back on. He picks himself up slowly and then grabs his buddy, who is just coming around. Somehow he manages to pull the other guy to his feet.
“How am I going to explain this?” he asks, pointing to his face. “I’m probably going to have to go to the hospital. I think my jaw is broken—and my hand …” He really is pathetic, asking me for answers. Such typical behavior in an alpha who has been kicked out of his dominant place. I roll my eyes. He’s surrendered all his power. I’ve seen it too many times to count.
“I dunno, tell them you walked into a door or tripped down the stairs. Women have had to use those lines for years.” I turn away from him, toward the bed. He has been dismissed. He will leave and say nothing more, and because he’s such an unevolved human being he won’t even really understand why. I look down at my knuckles, which are raw and scratched. I saved Flora. I may have saved some other girl from the same fate. I don’t feel guilty for what I’ve done, but I resent the fact that I had to do it. I just wanted to go to a party. I feel like I drag violence along with me everywhere I go, the same way a mother has to drag her screaming toddler around a grocery store. It’s just life. Things have to be done. I look down at a bloodstain on the carpet. This is who I am. This is more than just my job, and all the times I just wish for something normal are starting to feel like wallowing.
I walk lightly over to Flora, who hasn’t awakened. Thank God. I check her vitals. She’s fine, just drunk as hell. I go to her chest of drawers and pull out a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Gently, I dress her. I pull back the covers, put her into the bed, and tuck her in. I walk out the door, turning the light off as I go.
I walk down the hallway and see Levi waiting for me at the top of the stairs, his arms folded, his face like stone.
“I saw them leave,” he says through a clenched jaw.
“I told you I would handle it. I did,” I offer. There is silence between us. A silence that reaches up and stretches outward beyond whatever explanation I could give.
“Did they hurt her? Did they …” Levi can’t continue from there. The words seem to stick in his throat and he clears it. I hear pain in that half-strangled cough. He breaks eye contact and looks away. I watch his hands, they twitch and his fingers curl into fists. Without even thinking, I reach out and cover them with my own hands. His skin is hot to the touch.
“They tried, but I stopped them before anything happened. She’s so drunk, I doubt she’ll even remember bringing them in there. Does she do this a lot? Is this a thing with her now?” I was referring to both the drinking and the guys, but my tone was soft, as tender as I could manage.
Instead of answering, Levi stares down at our hands. He looks back up at me, at first confused and then angry. He jerks himself free. “What are you doing? Don’t do that. Don’t touch me, Ryn, ever.”
“Seriously?” I ask him, thoroughly insulted. I was just trying to be nice. Then it dawns on me why he wouldn’t want me touching him. “Oh,” I say, looking at my hands and then at him. “I … didn’t know that you thought of me in that—”
Levi huffs and scowls at me. “Please,” he condescends. “You’ve got tits and I’m a dude. I won’t let any female touch me.”
I fold my arms and consider this typically rude statement, and Levi snaps his game face on. I know this face. I’ve seen creatures and beasts whimper at this face. His eyes become terrifyingly vacant. His features become still and hard, as though sculpted out of marble. And then something changes in his eyes. He begins to stare intently at me. It’s not attraction I’m getting—at least, not the obvious kind. It’s something else. If I had to name it, I would say hunger, like he wants to pull me apart and eat me bit by bit. He is so screwed up, though; who knows what he’s thinking? He probably can’t want something without wanting to hurt it, or maybe he just wants to hurt everyone. He’s not like the boys who were up in Flora’s room. He doesn’t have an abusive nature. He’s not a bully. I’ve never seen him be unnecessarily violent … but I think there’s a part of him that wants everyone to hurt as badly as he does.
It’s a feeling that I can totally relate to.
Eventually he looks away and I am only partly relieved. Like I said, my crush on Levi came to an end long ago, but I’m messed up, too. The way he stared at me should have made me uncomfortable, but it didn’t. It’s strangely hot, to think of him eating me, to imagine him biting into my flesh and tearing off the muscle and bone. Every Citadel is twisted up in some way. I thought my fucked-up-ness came in the form of over-the-top control freak. It scares me to think that