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“Silla, you remembered to come by for more bandages… wait, why are you bleeding?” Patricia asks in alarm, standing up.

“It wasn’t my fault,” I start to explain, adrenaline still coursing through my veins, making my eyes sting as I remember how fast it all happened. Taking a deep breath, I bite my lip hard. I’m not going to cry over this. “There was a fight in the dining hall as I was walking out, and one of them ran into me.”

“You don’t look like someone who would start a fight,” Patricia admonishes. “Come sit so I can look at your wrists, and provide you with an alibi if needed.”

Huffing out a small laugh, I sit down, showing her my arms. There’s a piece of glass embedded in my upper arm as well, from when I dragged myself away on the ground.

Tsking, Patricia begins to clean me up. Wincing, I bite back a hiss as she works.

“They know better than to leave broken glass on the floor,” she mutters, shoving a phone between her shoulder and ear to make a call. “Hello, can you send someone from maintenance to clean up Dining Hall D, please? I heard there was a fight, and glass was broken due to the scuffle,” Patricia explains, stretching the truth a bit.

Winking at me as she talks, I realize this woman is a badass. Patricia follows the rules, but also fights to keep people safe.

Hanging up the phone, she makes small talk as she finishes with my bandages.

“Here are extra bandages, disinfectant, and ointment to help it heal faster,” Patricia explains as she gathers items for me. “If it looks red or the skin around it gets hot, come see me immediately, because that means it’s infected, alright?”

“Thank you,” I tell her with a nod. “I should have been paying better attention.”

“Fights don’t happen often, but they’re unpredictable enough that collisions happen.”

Saying goodbye, I head to my room. Again, I check it over to make sure no one has been in here, because I’m officially paranoid. Even with the camera installed and visible, it doesn’t mean someone won’t attempt to fuck with me.

Sitting on my bed, I crack open my textbook to read for a bit. My class isn’t until after lunch, and I need to keep my mind off things.

* * *

Hours later,I’m heading to my class after lunch. On the door is a note stating that our instructors have moved today’s session. Standing there for a moment, I wrinkle my nose in confusion.

“Ugh, a last minute location change, really?” a girl next to me complains.

“Let’s hurry so we aren’t late. Who knows what we’re in for today,” another of my classmates says.

Together, we rush to the other side of FRC. It seems a little ridiculous to change our classroom like this, but our instructors enjoy flexing their power. Making it just in time, we slip into the room as the door is closing.

“Cutting it close, don’t you think?” Andrya crows as she locks it.

For someone who is so pretty, she truly enjoys torturing others for her own entertainment. Thankfully, it appears everyone else is here, and I take a seat in the large auditorium as my eyes look around the room. The smell is musty, and I wonder why the change of venue.

“Alright!” Sidney exclaims as he stands in front of us. The three of them have wide smiles on their faces, and I shiver. They look like the cat that ate the canary. Whatever they have planned won’t be enjoyable for us.

“Today, we are going to talk about pleasure and pain. As the Queen’s Whores, you will be privy to many secrets. Should you be caught and fall into enemy hands, we need to know that you’re able to withstand the pressure of your job.”

“What this means,” Ayden continues with too much glee, “is that we need to know your deepest darkest secrets so we can cure you of them. If you’re no longer scared of pain or your fears, then you can withstand anything. So the three of us have been digging, and will continue to poke at your every wound and past tragedy. There are only two options: crack under the pressure or survive the worst possible situations so that no one can put you through worse.”

“The screams of the people in this room as this happens are to be ignored. They don’t matter, and your jobs are to pay attention to whatever lesson we are teaching,” Andrya explains.

I’m struggling to keep my face impassive as I listen, because this is really bad. I’m fairly sure my secrets are safe, but there’s no real way to know that. Dread twists through my veins as I hear my classmates shift in their seats.

“Today, I’m going to be your model to practice on,” Sidney says with a wicked smile. “I will correct improper form loudly, and debase you, because this is the best way to learn.”

“Eh, pain is also a great way to learn too,” Ayden corrects, chuckling as he picks up what looks to be clamps and a remote control. My eyes widen before I drop them, wondering what they’re planning to do with those.

“Yes, yes it is. This program is trial by fire, and we put out the strongest spies possible because of it. So, Michael Troy, you are going to be my test subject today. Please come up here, and be aware that I enjoy when you fight.” Sidney smirks.

Glancing over as I hear people move, I see the man I assume is Michael, get up. He walks over to the platform where our instructors stand, waiting for instructions.

“Take off your shirt, and then grab your elbows behind your back,” Sidney demands. I watch in confusion as Michael does what he’s asked furtively, wondering where this is going.