“The big building near the courtyard. It used to be a hospital for tuberculosis patients. It’s off-limits to wolves unless you’re dying or sent to the detention block.”
Two guards headed our way, and the look Dex shot them was enough that one of the men unsnapped his holster and placed his hand on the butt of his Taser.
Eyes on the guards but still speaking to me, Dex said, “In the whole camp—unless you count the gate and the fence—that’s one of only two places they really don’t want you to go.”
“What’s the other?”
But he was already walking away, guards trailing him until he left the building.
I rose from my seat, intent on following and getting an answer, but before I could, an amplified voice boomed through the air with a crackle of static. “All new wolves scheduled for self-control class proceed to the lawn in front of the dining hall.”
SIXTEEN OF US, INCLUDING EVE, FOLLOWED LANGLEY down paths and across lawns. We left the buildings behind and passed a fenced-off area that was completely empty and almost the size of a football field. A sign posted near the path read Authorized Shifting Zone.
During orientation, we’d been given rules about shifting. It was only allowed in two areas: the shifting zone and the self-control class. Thornhill had a zero-tolerance policy for wolves who transformed anywhere else.
“Glorified dog park,” muttered Eve, earning her a small smile from Kyle.
I felt a tiny flash of jealousy. I hadn’t seen that smile very many times since he had become infected.
“Why let anyone shift at all?” I wondered softly, glancing over my shoulder for one last look at the field.
A few wolves shot curious glances my way, but Kyle quickly covered for me. “You haven’t been infected long. Even wolves with really strong control have to shift sometimes. Otherwise, they risk losing their temper and blowing up.”
“And taking a swipe at whoever happens to be in the way,” added Eve. Something dark passed over her face and I wondered, suddenly, how she had become infected.
We skirted the edge of a wooded area until we reached another field.
It should have been beautiful. The grass was a green so bright it was practically Technicolor and wildflowers dotted it like exclamation marks. It was the kind of spot you saw in perfume ads or Disney movies— except for the cage.
It sat in the middle of the field like a fly trapped in honey, and the sight of it sent goose bumps racing down my arms. It was almost the size of my apartment back home and fully enclosed. The only way in or out was through a small door made of thick wire.
Langley unlatched the door and turned to face us. “Part of self-control is learning to resist external stimuli and suppress your wolf. Those of you who can demonstrate restraint this morning may receive special privileges. Those of you who can’t . . .” She let the words trail off ominously as she reached into her pocket and withdrew a small red object. A pocketknife.
She slid open the blade as her gaze swept the wolves. Her eyes lingered on me. “You were full of questions this morning. Roll up your sleeve.”
I felt, more than saw, Kyle go completely rigid. My gaze darted from Langley to the knife in her hand. She couldn’t be serious.
“Your sleeve. Unless you’d like to explain to the coordinators why you refused to participate in class.”
Heart thudding, I reached for my sleeve.
Kyle caught my hand.
Langley’s eyes narrowed. “Is there a problem?”
“Of course there is. Everyone’s frightened and exhausted and you just pulled a knife.”
I turned.
Eve rocked back on her heels. Everyone else looked alert and on edge, but her face was a mask of boredom. Only her eyes—sharp and calculating—hinted that she was just as tense as the rest of us. She cracked each knuckle in her right hand and then yawned.
“Congratulations,” snapped Langley, “you just volunteered to take her place. Arm out.”
Eve stepped forward without hesitation.
I stared, stunned. She had provoked the counselor so I wouldn’t be hurt.
Langley singled out eight wolves, including Kyle, and ordered them into the cage. Once they were inside, she turned to me and held out the knife.
She had to be joking.
“Take it.”
I shook my head. No way.
Langley’s gaze shifted to the cage and hovered meaningfully over Kyle. Sweat beaded on my forehead. She could try to have him sent to another camp—or worse—just to punish me for defying her. And she would. The expression on her face didn’t leave room for doubt.
Kyle gave a small, barely perceptible shake of his head. He slipped his fingers through the links of the cage, gripping the wires so tightly that I worried he’d slice his skin.
“Do it,” said Eve.
I glanced at her and her eyes locked on mine, almost like a challenge.
I licked my lips nervously and reached out to take the knife. It was heavier than it should have been and the handle was oddly cold in my hand.
I wondered how Langley could be crazy enough to give a prisoner a weapon, then realized how stupid the thought was: wolves carried knives under their skin 24-7. Just because they weren’t supposed to shift outside of this class and the zone didn’t mean they wouldn’t.
“Make an incision and then follow her into the cage.”
Eve’s eyes widened, and something that looked like worry crossed her face. She hadn’t counted on this, I realized. She hadn’t expected me to follow her in.
She shook her head. “This isn’t a fair test. Everyone is running on empty. You put a bleeding wolf in there and most of us will shift just because our minds and bodies are overloaded.”
Langley’s lips pressed into a thin, hard line as she regarded Eve. “If you’d rather not participate, I’m sure a spot can be found for you at Van Horne.”
Still, Eve hesitated. She lowered her arm.
I couldn’t let her get herself into that much trouble. Not to protect me. Stomach plummeting and heart rate skyrocketing, I slashed out with the blade.
It slid through Eve’s pale skin as though she were made of paper.
But paper didn’t bleed.
Blood welled to the surface of her arm and an answering wave of acid rushed up my throat. The pocketknife slipped from my hand and fell to the ground. It made a muffled thump as it hit the grass.
Eve walked quickly to the cage, swearing under her breath and holding her arm away from herself. Kyle tried to block the entrance, but she shoved him. I had just enough time to slip inside while she hissed at Kyle that it was my choice.
Langley slammed and locked the door.
Eyes a firestorm, Kyle stepped around Eve and reached for me. He tried to keep his body between me and the other wolves as we backed toward the far end of the cage.
Langley addressed the other half of the class, the wolves outside the cage. “People don’t like to admit it, but many werewolves—not just those with bloodlust—find it difficult not to shift in the presence of blood. And, of course, the temptation to shift when wounded or when another wolf loses control is incredibly strong.”
