“What’s in there?” I asked quietly. “Who’s in there?”
The black-haired girl smirked. “That’s not any of your business. You were one of the lottery invites. The law of chance that maybe someone plucked off the street would be able to achieve what we’ve been groomed to do. But the likelihood of you getting in is zero.” She patted my shoulder. “So don’t worry your pretty little head about it.”
“Lydia Swift.”
“Oh, that’s me. Would you look at that.” The girl with golden highlights smirked. Before leaving, she leaned in and whispered, “My suggestion is to keep your mouth shut, forget everything you think you saw today, and don’t be stupid.” Cupping my cheek, she dug her nails into my skin. “Because if you don’t. If you do something foolish like talk to someone. If you try to ruin this for us...someone will hunt you down and take your life.”
My mouth fell open at her threat.
How the hell had this day turned out like this?
“See ya ‘round.” She patted my cheek so hard it was almost a slap before weaving seductively through the crowd to join the selected others.
Marcus Ward kept reading names, but I locked eyes with the Asian girl next to me. “What the hell is going on in this place?”
“Guess you’ll never know.” She grinned. “And it’s probably for the best. He would eat you alive if you stepped one foot in there.”
“He?” I moved closer, thanks to someone jostling me. “Who’s he?”
I didn’t think she’d answer, but with an aura of smugness, she murmured, “Lucien Ashfall.”
That name.
It sounded almost familiar...
“What’s the selection of thirty women got to do with him?”
“Evelyn Ling,” Marcus Ward called out.
“Oh.” She flicked her glossy hair. “Surprise, surprise. That’s me.” Wriggling her fingers, she blew me a kiss. “Bye-bye, unchosen one.”
Without another word, she pushed past the pouting women slowly realising their chances of being picked were running out.
“Kia Brass.”
A short skinny girl squealed and joined the group.
I turned to go.
I’d been warned and threatened and...unlike others who had a body that didn’t blackout when stressed, I had no intention, nor the capacity, to fight this war.
Whatever was happening here. Whoever Lucien Ashfall was. I wanted nothing to do with it.
Hoisting up my backpack and glowering at the gravel rash on my palm, I arrowed toward the awaiting buses.
At least this time the sprinkler system didn’t activate, and I could leave with the seventy other women who’d been given the grace of escape.
But then, he called my name.
Chapter Four
“DIDN’T YOU HEAR MR. WARD CALLING you?” Two men appeared, cutting me off from my beeline to the bus.
My heart hammered. My headache grew worse. I used every trick in the book to keep my stress levels from crippling me.
Darting around them, I coughed. “I’m suddenly not feeling well. Someone else can have my spot—”
“Rook Snowden.” Marcus Ward’s voice boomed through the speakers. “Congratulations! You’re our lucky last.”
The two men grinned, each taking one of my arms. “The moment you’re settled into your private pavilion, the sooner you’ll feel better.” Guiding me kindly—even though we all knew it was straight-up coercion—they herded me to the left and deposited me with the group of chosen women.
Evelyn and Lydia glowered at me before shooting daggers at each other with whatever secrets they shared.
A wash of cold sweat coated my back.
Whatever was in this blasted estate might be bad, but these girls were probably worse.
I didn’t want to be here, yet they acted as if I’d come to steal their thunder. And if they were happy to threaten my life in plain view, then...what the hell would happen once we were inside?
“It’s come to the unhappy part of the day where I have to bid you farewell, ladies.” Marcus slouched dramatically as he grinned at the unchosen. “Ember Health thanks you all for your time and we hope you enjoy your evening at the Waldorf. Your gift bags will be delivered to your rooms once you’ve checked in.”
A few women raised their hands to ask questions, but Marcus pretended he didn’t notice. “Thank you again and have a pleasant afternoon.” Turning off the microphone, he placed it on the trestle table, snapped his fingers at the men, and marched toward the gatehouse.
With the quietest groan of iron-fortified wood, the double doors opened, swinging wide and offering a glimpse of yet another immaculate gravel driveway meandering around cone-shaped trees leading toward a speck in the distance. The barely-visible estate wobbled like a mirage in the late afternoon sunshine.
“Please follow us.” Four men surrounded the group of thirty women, while the other staff helped guide the reluctant losers back to the buses.
In the shuffle of feet and frustrated whispers, I spied my opportunity.
Ducking into the mass moving toward freedom, I kept my head down and—
“Miss Snowden.” The man who’d taken my factsheet form stepped in front of me. “You’re going the wrong way.”
“Oh, I...” I floundered, my headache pounding, pounding. “I...eh, I lost something.” I narrowed my eyes on the grass, hoping my acting skills had improved since the last time I’d tried to lie. “I might have left it on the bus—”
He crossed his arms, his tone patient but his eyes shrewd. “If you tell me what you’ve lost, I can call the coach company and see if they’ve found anything.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” My vision went a little grey at the edges.
Don’t you dare.
Don’t you freaking dare.
Swallowing hard, I shoved back the stress and tried to inch around him. “Thanks, though.”
He chuckled as I rejoined the herd marching toward the splashing peacock fountain. He let me think I might stand a chance as my flip-flops crunched on the gravel driveway and the glint of sunlight off the bus windscreens sent my heart racing with hope.
But then, he cut in front of me again.
His overly white teeth flashed as he grinned. “You’re still going in the wrong direction. Please...allow me to guide you into Cinderkeep.” He reached for my elbow.
I scrambled back so fast, I almost fell over.
My eyes skimmed a few of the women all climbing sadly into the buses. What would I give to trade with them? Did that make me a horrible person that I would put their life in danger just so I could get out of here?
Probably did. But I’d already come to terms with who I was.
I was a self-confessed slacker. I had a gold star in doing the bare minimum, a diploma in laziness, and a lifetime achievement award in procrastination.
And all of those skills doomed me to hell as the man nudged me toward the gatehouse, not touching me, but giving clear signals that he’d happily toss me over his shoulder if I tried to run again.
I racked my throbbing brain for a solution.
If only I went to the gym and was good at cardio. If only I’d trained to fight and had a wicked right hook. If only I’d stayed in that smoky, gloomy pub and hadn’t been greedy.
Sighing heavily, I shuffled to join the eager women who’d already passed through the double doors of the gatehouse and were boarding a different kind of vehicle. A line-up of matte black, window-tinted Mercedes-Benz G-Wagons were the chariots of choice, swallowing up four women at a time before pulling away with the purr of obscene wealth.