Broken Kingdom (Corium University Trilogy 3)

If Lucas can conceal his inner thoughts, so can I. I’ve had enough practice. “I need to get back to my own room, remember? I’m not supposed to wander around on that level.” I make it a point to narrow my eyes. “You heard Lucas. The threat has passed.”

“But—”

Lucas joins us. After scowling at me, he turns to Aspen. “He’s right. I’ll take you back to your room. Everything is back to normal.”

He might not notice, but I do. Her shoulders slump and her head bows ever so slightly, like someone used to being told what to do. No matter how she feels about it, she has no say in nearly anything happening around her. Like a leaf twisting in the wind, carried by forces beyond her control.

She deserves better. Everything was so much easier before I knew it. When I could hate her.

Lucas and I exchange one last look, and I hope my lifted shoulders convey my relative innocence in this. I’m sure he thinks I’m encouraging her, but nothing could be further from the truth. I’m torturing myself for her sake. I can’t expect him to understand.

All I can do is turn my back on her and pretend not to care when she shuffles away. “That was the smart thing to do,” Ren assures me before we set off on the heels of the group.

“I don’t need your encouragement.”

“Are you sure about that? Because you look about as close to a whipped dog as I’ve ever seen.” My head snaps around, my lip curling into a sneer. “That’s more like it,” he says with a grin, and I know that was a ploy to pull me out of my dark, self-loathing thoughts.

All I can do is replay the sight of Aspen’s shoulders slumping. When reality settles back in, she’ll remember the way things are. A single stressful, dangerous night won’t change anything.

I have to be better. I have to keep away from her for her sake and not to mention my family’s.

I wish I knew how such a thing is possible.

17

ASPEN

Everyone’s different. Different in a way that I don’t like. They’re leery of me, hesitant like I’m the big bad monster of Corium capable of ruining their lives. It’s infuriating since I didn’t earn their respect, and it only reminds me further of the hold Quinton and his family have at the university. His promise to keep me safe replays in my mind constantly, like a bad song with a catchy beat. Even now, I hear his voice in my mind.

I want to slap myself in the face for how weak I acted the other day when we had to follow the air duct to the surface. I told myself I’d be stronger, and instead, I had a panic attack over nothing.

The shuffling of feet and constant chatter filter into my ears as soon as I step out of the elevator. Maybe this was a bad idea? No. Everything seems to give me a panic attack. I need to get out more. I can’t continue to live like this, sheltered and afraid.

Forcing a deep breath into my lungs, I walk down the hall. My steps are firm as I keep my head held high. I’ve made it all but five feet when I notice how everyone is keeping a safe distance from me, their bodies pressed to the walls like they’re afraid to get close. I can feel eyes on me, burning into my skin, but I shake off the stares and march on. Ever since I returned, it’s been this way. Everyone is afraid, but not of me.

Before, they ignored my existence, but in a way that said they didn’t give a shit, now they act like stepping too close might get them killed.

I hurry down the corridor, my palms clammy and my pulse pounding in my ears. The space clears out as students rush to their next class. I know I technically have nothing to worry about, but I find myself looking over my shoulder periodically.

In one of those moments of paranoia, I fail to notice a person in front of me. We collide, our shoulders hitting against one another’s. I’m nearly knocked off my feet from the impact.

Damnit! I steady myself, my feet planted firmly on the ground. I look around, prepared to fight off whatever person is trying to hurt me. The panic of being taken again sends my thoughts into overdrive. I won’t go without a fight. They won’t hurt me again. I feel the fight burning through my veins, and I’m ready to throw the first punch when I look up.

Instead of an enemy, I find a girl staring at me. She’s about the same height as me, long midnight black hair frames her heart-shaped face, and her horror-filled green eyes collide with mine.