“You need to be careful, Violet,” Vin hisses in the early morning sunlight as I drop down to do another set of twenty push-ups. My arms are shaking, and sweat coats my body like a second skin. “You don’t want to hurt yourself trying to keep up with us.”
He’s on one side of me with Jack on the other. Both men move fluidly as they do push-up after push-up with the other fifty competitors.
“I’ll have you know I’m super athletic,” I huff out between pants. “I do all my own stunts…never intentionally. But still, I do them. So, ha.”
On the twentieth push-up, my arms give out and my face collides with the grass, wet with morning dew. Laughter rings out from farther down the line of students, and I don’t have to look to know it’ll be Gills and Alex.
Mummy releases us for the day, and my men immediately jump to their feet, prepared to shower away today’s sweat and dirt. I remain on the ground, attempting to do a few more push-ups. Every muscle aches, though I don’t know if it’s from the push-ups today or the five-mile run we did yesterday.
“Violet,” Jack says gently. “Vi.”
“Just a few more,” I pant.
“Vi…”
“A couple more.”
Abruptly, a hand grabs the back of my shirt and drags me to my feet. My legs wobble, threatening to give out, but the hand holds me steady, pulling me against a sculpted chest.
“You’re working yourself too hard,” Vin grumbles in my ear. “I don’t want you to get sick or hurt yourself.”
“News flash, I hurt myself all the time. Just last night, I hurt myself after I tripped down the staircase in my dorm and face-planted into a potted plant,” I point out. Despite the guys’ protest, I’m still living in my dorm room. For now. I have every intention of moving out…after the Roaring is completed. I can’t afford to be distracted, and these men? They’re the biggest kind.
“Be sensible,” Vin hisses. “You can’t win the competition if you’re dead.” He gives me a long, eloquent look that says more than a thousand words, but I merely roll my eyes.
“I also can’t win if I choose donuts over running every day…which I still do, make no mistake. But a push-up and salad usually evens it out.” I shoulder away from the men and bend down to grab my water bottle, topped full with Jack’s blood. The assholes at school are still refusing to allow us to eat in the cafeteria, so I have to be creative.
The warm liquid leaves tingles in its wake, eliciting full-body goosebumps. Fuck, he tastes good.
As I pull the bottle away from my lips, I catch the men staring intently at the words on my arm, still red and ragged from the week earlier. Frankie has been working tirelessly on a balm designed to eliminate the scars, but I’m honestly not sure I want them gone anymore. They’re a reminder of what I’ve endured and what I’m still fighting for. Whenever I see those crude words burned onto my skin, anger swirls low in my stomach like a whirlpool. That anger grows and grows, until it’s the size of a tsunami seconds from cresting the shoreline. All this rage needs is an outlet.
I know the guys went searching for the monsters who did this to me, but so far, they’re shit out of luck. It’s like the ghoul and his friends disappeared into thin air. No one has heard from them since that fateful night, when my life was forever altered.
“Violet,” a soft voice inquires from behind me. I turn with a heavy sigh, unsurprised to see Cal. The rest of the guys stand a short distance away, murmuring amongst each other.
Of course, they’d send the one person I can’t possibly get mad at. He’s too freaking adorable.
“What, Cal? Are you going to tell me that I’m being stupid? That I’m pushing myself too hard? That I should focus my anger on other things?” I bite out, tone scathing. His eyes flash with pain before he quickly masks it.
“Not at all, actually.” He takes a step closer until his body blocks out the others. “You might find this hard to believe, but I understand what you’re going through.”
I snort cynically, giving him a lingering once-over. “You had words carved into your skin as well?”
“No.” He shakes his head sadly. “But I know what it’s like to be feared and hated because of what type of monster you are.”
Guilt instantly suffuses me as I stare into his golden-flecked eyes. A century of sadness peers back at me, swallowing me whole.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” I say instantly, ducking my head.
“I didn’t even understand what was happening,” he continues. “One second, everything was normal, and the next, I was here. In the upper levels. Unable to interact with the rest of the world.” His tone is laced with pain—so much pain, that my heart aches for him. When he moves to sit on the ground, long legs extended, I don’t hesitate before sitting next to him, wrapping my pinkie around his.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I whisper, gauging his reaction carefully. His beautiful face is tightened in pain, the lines around his mouth harsh and unforgiving. When he catches me staring, he flashes me a half-hearted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes.
“It’s fine,” he assures me. “If you’re going to be friends with a monster, you might as well know his story.” He glances towards the others, who are congregated beside one of the larger tombstones, far enough away where they can’t overhear our conversation but still close enough they can keep an eye on me. “I won’t tell you Barret’s story—that’s his choice—but I will tell you mine. If you want to hear it, that is.”
“Yes.” When he begins to fidget, I brush my pinkie over his lightly, stilling his movements. “But the same goes for you. You don’t have to tell me anything, Cal, if
