I didn't know if he was dead. I didn't care. All I knew was that I couldn't be in this room for another second.
I dashed toward the door, my fingers fumbling with the lock. I twisted it, threw the door open, and bolted.
I ran through the dark tunnels, past the rows of men who stared at me with hollow eyes, past the machinery that hissed like steam-driven demons. I didn't stop when my lungs felt like they were filled with glass. I didn't stop when I tripped and skinned my knees for the tenth time that day.
I burst out of the mine entrance and into the night air, the cold wind hitting my tear-streaked face.
I was a failure… a freaking murderer.
I crouched in the skeleton of an abandoned warehouse three blocks away from the mines, my knees pulled tightly against my chest. My hands were still shaking and the sensation of the blade sinking into the supervisor's side made my skin crawl.
I wasn't a killer. I was a girl who fought for scraps, sure, but this? This was different. The dark, hot blood on my fingers had felt like a trademark of my new title.
Murderer.
"He's alive," Pia whispered, though she sounded like she was trying to convince herself. "He has to be. He's a wolf. He's fat and sturdy. People like that don't just die from a little fuse-cutter, right?"
"I don't know, Pia," I choked out, a sob finally breaking through my throat.
If he was a lower level Omega, he'd for sure die from that stab. That was certain.
I looked down at the pink nail polish splattered across my dress, now mixed with dirt and the supervisor's grime. "If he's not dead, he's coming for me. And if he is... they'll string me up."
I stayed in the dark for an hour, wishing the Moon Goddess would just take me back. I wished my biological parents hadn't died. I wished I were anyone but Waverly, the shack girl with a stolen face.
Pia suddenly piped up. "Wave, the Prince. We need the Prince. If we're in that palace, the mining guards can't touch us. The law can't touch us. If he picks us, we're invincible."
I let out a hollow laugh, wiping my eyes with the back of my hand. "He threatened to skin us, Pia."
"I'd rather be skinned by a Prince in a silk bed than rot in a cell for killing a pig," she snapped.
For the first time, I genuinely hoped for the lie to work. I prayed that Prince Kaeren—psychopath or not—would send that summons. Because there was nothing left for me in the Outer District.
Not even a phone to call my only friend, just the silence of the shacks and the smell of coal.
When I finally reached the shack, I moved like a ghost. The front door was swinging open, a sign of how little anyone cared about safety here.
The living room was a disaster. Empty chip bags and soda cans littered the floor. Alex was sprawled on the couch, snoring loudly with the TV flickering static over his face.
Tasha was face-down on the rug, her phone still glowing in her hand. Usually, I was the one expected to haul their heavy, lazy asses into their rooms.
Tonight, I didn't even look at them. I just wanted to crawl into my corner and disappear.
As I crept toward my room, I passed Imogen and Drodd's door. It wasn't fully shut.
"We need the money, Drodd. Now," Imogen's voice was filled with a desperation that made my blood run cold. "That loan for the boutique didn't just vanish. The collectors will be here by the end of the week."
"I know, I know," Drodd growled. "If the girl doesn't get in to be the Prince's mate, we'll just put her back in the mines. Permanent shift. I talked to the supervisor—he's willing to pay double. We can sell her to two, maybe three men a day and tell the neighbors she's just working overtime. We'll survive."
I felt my heart shatter. It was a crushing, grinding destruction.
Sell me to more men. They weren't even planning on making me actually work in the mines. They had an entirely different kind of work planned for me over there.
Imogen hissed, shifting her weight. "Three isn't enough to get us to the High Class region. I'm tired of this shack, Drodd. Our kids need the upgrade. I won't have Tasha and Alex living in the mud forever like we did. Wave has to get in."
"And if she fails?" Drodd asked. "We up the ratio. Five or six men a day. She's a useless, goofy brat anyway. I doubt the Prince would want anything to do with a girl like her once he realizes she's just a gutter-rat."
I couldn't listen anymore. I stumbled back, my hands over my mouth to stifle a scream. I rushed into my tiny room which was a literal closet at the back of the house and threw myself onto the thin mattress, sobbing into the moldy pillow.
"Waverly?"
I jolted, looking up. Leah was standing in the doorway, her eyes wide and watery. She lived in the room directly next to the parents; she'd heard it all, too.
She rushed in and sat beside me, pulling me into a shaky hug. "Don't listen to them. You're special, Wave. I saw you today in that dress. You looked like you belonged there."
"I'm a fraud, Leah," I sobbed, clutching her sleeve. "He's looking for a mate he met in Spain. I've never been past the square. Why would he pick me? I'm not the girl he's looking for. I'm just a lie."
Leah gripped my shoulders. "Maybe because the lie is better than his reality, Wave. You have to believe—"
CRASH.
The sound of the front door being kicked off its hinges silenced her instantly. The shack groaned under the weight of a sudden, violent intrusion.
"WHERE IS SHE?" A booming, unfamiliar voice roared from the living room.
My heart somersaulted into my throat. I heard the sound of Alex screaming and the heavy thud of a body hitting the floor. Imogen shrieked in pure horror, a sound that I had never heard from her before.
"Waverly!" Pia howled in my mind, her voice jagged with hysteria. "The supervisor! His body must have been found. The Enforcers are here to take us! They're going to string us up in the square, Wave! They're going to kill us!"
I scrambled back against the wall, my hands flying to the tear in my dress, trying to hide the bloodstains that branded me a criminal.
Leah's face began turning ashen. "Waverly, why are you retreating? Did… did you do something wrong?"