“Get inside,” hissed Scotia in my ear, and she tugged me backward and into the building. I was too numb to fight. I was too numb to do anything but stare blankly at the bunk bed that, seconds before, had belonged to a girl who was now dead.
Every single pair of eyes turned toward me. Some were red; some stared at me accusingly. But for the first time, none of them looked away.
“At least in the cage, she would’ve stood a chance,” said Scotia, pushing me back to my bed. I sat down heavily, and the springs squeaked from my weight. “Get it now?”
I nodded wordlessly, and she turned her glare from me to the others.
“Chelsea was a good person,” she said. “You’re all good people. I don’t care if Mercer himself hands you contraband—do not give them an excuse to kill you, because I promise you they will take it.”
With that, she turned on her heel and headed back behind her curtain. A few quiet sobs echoed from the other end of the bunk, and the low murmur of voices filled my ears as I curled up on my bed, my back to them as I stared at the entrance to Scotia’s room.
It was the only place the guards had left untouched.
Scotia was the snitch.
By the time lights out came two hours later, I was certain. She had turned Maya and her friends in without a second thought; and after smelling the chocolate on her breath, I would have bet every heartbeat I had left that she was the one who had tipped off Williams about Chelsea’s candy bar and told him to search the bunk.
While the others fell asleep, their whispered conversations fading one by one until the entire room was filled with the sound of two dozen girls breathing evenly, I continued to watch the curtain separating Scotia from the rest of us. It might as well have been a steel door, the way the other girls treated it, but all I could think about was what she’d done to deserve that privacy in the first place.
Snitch out her bunk mates, clearly. Keep us all so afraid of her that no one stepped a toe out of line in fear of being sent to the cage. But why the others didn’t gang up on her and take care of the problem, I didn’t know.
Even if I’d wanted to sleep, I couldn’t. My mind flipped between the horrors of the past twenty-four hours like some nightmarish slide show. Six people—that was how many had died in front of me since Knox had betrayed me. Benjy. Maya. Poppy. Darcy. Chelsea. And another whose name I’d never known.
Guilt and despair burrowed inside me, nestling up against the need for vengeance that fueled every breath I took. The true horror of Elsewhere wasn’t the hunt Daxton enjoyed so much; it lay in the twisted hope Mercer and the others offered the prisoners. Betray your friends, betray the only family you have in this place, and we might let you become one of us. We might let you pull the trigger next time.
I wouldn’t just kill Knox, I decided. I would take out the Mercers, too—and Scotia, and Williams and the weedy guard, and everyone else who dared to build up their authority on the deaths of others. I would burn Elsewhere to the ground if that’s what it took to help these people. I might have still looked like Lila Hart on the outside, but it was time to be Kitty Doe on the inside. It was time to remember who I was and once again find the courage it took to face this kind of brutality day in and day out, and somehow still make it out alive.
But never, not even on the Shields’ worst days, had I ever seen anything like this on the streets of D.C. No matter how hard I tried to prepare myself for whatever tomorrow had in store for me, I knew nothing in my experience could even begin to compare. And facing that bleak unknown was more terrifying than any disgruntled guard with a gun could ever be.
Over an hour after everyone else had fallen asleep, the curtain rustled. I squinted, and cloaked by darkness, Scotia slipped out of her room, her boots silent against the stone floor.
With stealth I would have found impressive if I hadn’t hated her so much, she opened the door and exited the bunkhouse, leaving a swirl of icy air and snow in her wake. Without hesitating, I sat up and shoved my feet into my boots, remembering to grab my coat this time. I wasn’t nearly as quiet as she was, but with everyone asleep, I had no reason to care.
By the time I slipped outside, she was halfway down the block, her head bent and hands shoved into her pockets. She walked as if she knew she had nothing to worry about, not bothering to keep to the shadows or mute the crunch of snow and ice with every step she took. And why would she, when she was so favored that not even the guards dared to disturb her privacy?
I made sure to fall into the rhythm of her gait, in case she could hear my footsteps as well as I could hear hers. Unlike Scotia, I stuck to the shadows, wishing I were wearing anything but red so I could blend in easier. But we passed no guards, and Scotia never looked over her shoulder, not even when she stopped beside a metal gate that blocked the winding drive leading up to Mercer Manor.
I crouched behind the corner of a building as Scotia waited, in plain sight of anyone who happened to pass by. Mercer Manor loomed only a few hundred feet away, a stark contrast to the other buildings around it even in the darkness. Scotia tapped her foot impatiently, and half a minute later, she huffed with indignation. Whoever she was supposed to meet was late.
Another set of footsteps echoed through the quiet street, and a tall figure approached, walking down the drive. When he stepped underneath the lamp secured on top of the gate, the light illuminated his features, and I raised an eyebrow. Mercer.
“You’re late,” said Scotia, annoyed. “You know it’s freezing out here.”
“I’m sure I could figure out some way to keep you warm,” he said, sliding his arms around her waist. “How are you, my dear?”
“Your goons killed another one of my girls tonight.” Despite the anger in her tone, she looped her arms around his neck, pressing her body against his. “I’d appreciate it if you told them to leave us alone.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, darling,” said Mercer, and he nuzzled her cheek. I made a face. “If someone breaks a rule, my hands are tied.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it,” she said, and he chuckled.
“Yes, I suppose. But I also suspect she did something to deserve it, did she not?”
Scotia grumbled. “Williams caught her with contraband. The Hart girl opened her big mouth and tried to stop her arrest, and since Williams couldn’t take it out on her, he took it out on Chelsea instead.”
Mercer clucked his tongue disapprovingly. “She’ll settle in quickly enough.”