“The gates are locked. There are guards outside, and I have no idea where to go. Apparently, we’re in the middle of nowhere.”
“But nowhere is somewhere,” I say, picking up the bread and taking a bite.
“How do I walk out of here with everyone?” she asks, her voice desperate and pleading. “I don’t know what they’ll do if we’re discovered. They’ve already killed two of my friends because of the way I behaved. They had you attack my sister,” she adds, and I still at her words, turning to face her.
“What?”
“They put her in a cave with all four warriors. She was attacked so my father could ensure she got pregnant.”
I allow her words to sink in. “Your father?”
She stands, her eyes searching mine. “Anthony Sanchez.” My blood boils, and I clench my fists. “He’s disowned me,” she rushes to add, like that somehow makes it all better.
“Why?” I ask through gritted teeth.
“Because I don’t conform to his beliefs.” She walks over to where I am and slips her tiny hand in mine. “He’s created aworld that suits him, and everyone else is just . . . compliant. I hate him, and I hate this fake world he’s forcing us all to live in.”
“I didn’t know you were one of them,” I mutter, and I feel her tense.
Her brow furrows. “I’m not. I’ve just told you I don’t believe.”
I release her hand. “Believe or not, it makes no difference. You’re only down here because he’s disowned you. Before that, you lived up there with them.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“No, Wynter, I didn’t have a choice. You’ve only decided to help now you’re amongst us.” I place the bread in her hands. “You should leave.”
Her face is full of confusion, but I turn away. “Ares?—”
“My name is Wrath.” I sit on the bed, twisting and lying back to stare up at the ceiling.
“What just happened?” she asks, but I continue to stare.I’m done talking now.“You’re going to ignore me?” She waits a beat. “Please, at least let’s talk about it.” When I still don’t reply, she gives a defeated sigh and backs out the room. “Yah know, when everyone was telling me what a monster you were, I gave you a chance. I wanted to make my own decision. I’m sorry you feel you can’t give me the same courtesy.” Then she closes the door, locking it.
CHAPTER TWELVE
WYNTER
My heart is breaking. It’s the only way to describe the pain that’s sitting in my chest as Martha dishes the breakfasts up while she hums to herself. “What’s that song?” I ask, and she lifts her head to meet my eye and smiles.
“I used to sing it to my daughter.” Her smile immediately fades.
“Your daughter? You have children?”
She gives her head a slight shake. “Not anymore.”
“What happened?”
“My husband happened,” she mutters. “He wasn’t a nice man.”
“What does that mean? He killed her?”
“He may as well have. In the real world, things work differently,” she explains. “There are laws you can’t break and things you can’t do. And children are protected by laws, and if those laws are broken or the child is hurt by an adult, there’s an organisation called social services who take your child away if you can’t keep them safe.”
“Where do they take them?”
She smiles sadly. “Sometimes they care for them in a home filled with other children, and other times, like in my daughter’s case, they give them to a new family.”
I stare wide-eyed. “But she had you. Why didn’t they let you have her?”
