Captive (The Blackcoat Rebellion 2)

“What are you going to do?” said Scotia, staring down at me. “March up to him and snap his neck?”

“If that’s what it takes,” I said, glaring at her in return, silently daring her to report me. “At least I have the guts to finish him off myself.”

The entire bunkhouse went silent. Noelle stiffened, and she pulled away from me, shooting Scotia a nervous look. Before Noelle could say anything, however, Scotia stepped toward me, a dangerous mask of calm settling over her features.

“And what is that supposed to mean?” she said.

“Those girls—Maya and Poppy and the others—they didn’t have to die,” I said. “You knew what would happen the minute you turned them in.”

“And they knew exactly what would happen if they were ever caught fighting on my turf,” said Scotia. “Just like I bet you knew exactly what would happen to your friend if you betrayed Knox.”

My blood turned to lava, and fury erupted inside me. Before I knew what was happening, I flew across the aisle, my fingers curled into claws as I tackled Scotia to the ground. Part of me was vaguely aware I was screaming obscenities as I tried to rip her to shreds, but in one fluid motion, Scotia flipped me onto my back and pinned my legs and arms, knocking the wind out of me.

“You might be used to people kissing your ass and telling you what you want to hear back home, but you’re not a Hart anymore, princess,” she growled. “You’re no better than the rest of us.”

She hovered over me, close enough for me to smell the chocolate on her breath and see flecks of gold in her irises. I didn’t turn away. Instead, with anger still raging within me, I spit in her face.

Scotia didn’t so much as flinch. “Consider this your warning,” she said. “And be thankful I’m being so generous, you ungrateful bitch.”

She climbed to her feet and wiped my spit off her cheek. Several of the girls began to whisper, but with a single look, she silenced them and stalked back into her room.

With effort, I sat up, my side aching from the way her knee had dug into me. Noelle knelt beside me, even though I belatedly realized I’d managed to land in a puddle of melted snow someone had tracked in from outside.

“You really shouldn’t push her,” she said softly, rubbing circles between my shoulder blades. “It won’t do you any good.”

“Like she said, I’m no better than the rest of you,” I said, glaring at the curtain that now separated Scotia from us. “And neither is she. She had no right to talk about Benjy like that.”

“I’m sure she already feels bad about it,” said Noelle. “Scotia’s a really good person, I promise. But if you give her a reason to turn you in—”

Suddenly the door to the bunkhouse burst open, revealing a burly guard clutching a rifle. His massive frame took up nearly the entire doorway, and he lumbered into the room, his boot missing my toes by inches. “Inspection! Stand by your bunks, hands on your head, all of you.”

Noelle scrambled to her feet, pausing only long enough to help me to mine before she hurried over to the foot of her bunk. The other girls stood by theirs, all with their hands placed behind their heads. My heart pounded, and I stumbled the few steps it took to reach mine, leaning against the ladder while gingerly lifting my arms high enough to mimic their poses. The guard met my eyes, and a shiver ran through me. Was he staring because of who he thought I was, or had he been sent here to plant something on me, finally giving Knox an excuse to kill me?

Half a dozen guards stormed into the room and began to tear the place apart. Mattresses were pounded, pillows were ripped open, and though I didn’t have any personal belongings, the guards rummaged through the others’. More than once I heard paper ripping, and Noelle winced as a guard tore through the pages of a book she had under her pillow.

At last, three quarters of the way down the aisle, a weedy guard straightened. “Sir,” he called, holding up what looked like a candy bar. The girl whose bunk he was searching started to turn around, but one look from the guard and she straightened again, her face pale.

The first guard lumbered up to her. Chelsea, I remembered. Her name was Chelsea. “You’re aware that the possession of contraband substances is strictly prohibited by Article 18, Section B of the penal code?” said the first burly guard.

“It—it was a present from a guard,” she said in a trembling voice. “I thought—because he gave it to me—”

The guard snapped his fingers, and the one who had found it pocketed the candy bar and twisted her arm behind her back. “Out you go,” he said in a shrill, excited voice that made my stomach turn. Chelsea stumbled forward, her face red and eyes full of tears. Our gazes met, and suddenly all I could see was the hole in Maya’s chest.

Even though it was stupid, even though Scotia had just given me my first and final warning, I stepped into the aisle between bunks to block their way.

“It’s a candy bar,” I said. “You’re really going to throw her into the cage for that?”

Behind the guard, Noelle shook her head furiously, silently begging me to stop. I ignored her. Better not to get her involved in this, too.

“It’s an item from outside the zone,” said the first guard, the burly one who looked like he could challenge a bear and win. “You break the rules, you get arrested. Plain and simple.”

So Elsewhere was exactly like D.C., except the Shields had been replaced by the prisoners themselves, and instead of going Elsewhere, you were sent to the cage. For a candy bar, for an orange—it was all the same thing. “It’s a stupid rule,” I said.